The pen shook in Ivy Moore's fingers.
Not because she was weak.
But because the man sitting across the glass desk had just erased every option she thought she had.
"You have forty-five seconds," he said calmly.
His voice didn't rise. It didn't threaten. It didn't need to.
The countdown was already killing her.
Ivy swallowed, her throat dry as sand. "You're saying if I don't sign… what exactly happens?"
Lucien Vale glanced at his watch.
"Thirty-nine seconds."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. "You can't just ignore my question."
This time, his eyes lifted to her face—cold, assessing, merciless. The kind of eyes that didn't see people, only outcomes.
"I'm not ignoring it," he replied. "I'm sparing you the details."
Ivy's fingers tightened around the pen. Across the desk, the document lay open—thick, precise, terrifyingly official. Every page stamped. Every clause numbered. The kind of contract people whispered about when their lives were already over.
She hadn't come here for this.
She had come because the eviction notice said FINAL WARNING in red ink.
Because the bank had frozen her account that morning.
Because the hospital bills from her father's final days were stacking faster than she could breathe.
She had come for help.
Instead, she had walked into a trap.
"Mr. Vale," she said, forcing her voice steady, "this is a marriage contract."
"Yes."
"You didn't mention that on the phone."
"I didn't need to."
Her stomach dropped. "You said it was a legal arrangement."
Lucien leaned back slightly, folding his hands. "Marriage is legal."
The room seemed to tilt.
Marriage.
The word echoed in her head like a gunshot.
"You expect me to believe," she said slowly, "that I walked into the most powerful law firm in the city… and the solution you offer is to marry a stranger?"
"You won't be marrying a stranger," Lucien corrected. "You'll be marrying me."
Silence crashed between them.
Ivy stared at him, really stared. The tailored black suit. The sharp jawline. The expression carved from stone. He looked like a man who had never begged, never lost, never been told no.
A billionaire. A legal executioner. A name judges respected and feared.
Lucien Vale.
This was insanity.
"I won't do it," she said, pushing the document back slightly.
Lucien's lips curved—not into a smile, but something colder.
"Twenty-one seconds."
Her chest tightened. "You're threatening me."
"No," he said calmly. "I'm informing you."
He reached for a tablet and turned it toward her.
One tap.
Her name filled the screen.
Another tap.
Court filings. Debt records. A judge's seal.
Another.
Her apartment building.
Another.
A signed eviction order—effective today.
Her breath hitched. "That's impossible. I still have time."
Lucien finally leaned forward.
"You had time," he said quietly. "Until you walked out of that hospital and refused the settlement my firm offered."
Ivy froze.
Her blood turned cold. "You… you knew about that?"
"I know everything," he replied. "Your father's case. The appeal you couldn't afford. The loans you took in your own name."
Her hands went numb.
"This is illegal," she whispered.
Lucien's gaze sharpened. "Then sue me."
She looked at the screen again.
She couldn't.
He had made sure of that.
"Why?" she demanded, her voice cracking despite her effort. "Why me?"
For the first time, something flickered behind Lucien's eyes.
Not hesitation.
Recognition.
"You were chosen," he said. "Very carefully."
The words sent a chill down her spine.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly.
Ten seconds.
Ivy's thoughts spiraled. Marriage meant control. Surveillance. A cage disguised as luxury. She didn't know this man. She didn't trust him.
But she knew what waited outside this office.
Homelessness. Lawsuits. Ruin.
She had buried her father three weeks ago.
She couldn't bury herself too.
"Six seconds," Lucien said.
Her fingers tightened around the pen until they hurt.
"What happens after?" she asked hoarsely. "After I sign?"
Lucien stood.
Tall. Dominant. Unavoidable.
"You become my wife," he said. "For one year."
"And then?"
His gaze locked onto hers, dark and unreadable.
"Then," he said, "you walk away with everything you owe erased."
The pen hovered over the paper.
One year.
One year to survive him.
One year to protect herself.
One year to find a way out.
Her signature hit the page.
The moment the ink dried, Lucien closed the file.
The sound was final. Absolute.
He extended his hand—not to shake, but to help her stand.
"Welcome," he said coolly, "Mrs. Vale."
Ivy's heart stopped.
"What?" she whispered.
Lucien turned toward the door.
"The wedding announcement goes out tonight," he added. "The press will love you."
He paused, just long enough to deliver the final blow.
"And Ivy?"
"Yes?" she breathed.
"This marriage," he said softly, "was never meant to save you."
The door opened.
And Ivy realized—
she hadn't signed a contract.
She had signed her fate.