Ananya Mehra had exactly thirty days before everything collapsed.
Thirty days before the bank took her house.
Thirty days before her father's hospital bills doubled.
Thirty days before she ran out of lies to tell her younger brother.
She didn't cry.
She stopped crying three weeks ago.
That evening, she stood inside the tallest glass building in the city — Kapoor Holdings.
People said Arjun Kapoor built his empire before he turned thirty.
People also said he destroyed anyone who stood in his way.
She wasn't there to admire him.
She was there to beg.
The receptionist looked at her simple cotton kurti and worn-out sandals with mild judgment.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No."
"Then you can't—"
"Tell him Ananya Mehra is here about the land deal in Sector 9."
The name worked.
Five minutes later, she was inside a private elevator going to the top floor.
Her palms were cold.
When the elevator doors opened, she saw him.
Arjun Kapoor.
Dark suit. Perfect posture. Cold expression.
He didn't look up immediately.
He finished signing a document.
Only then did his sharp eyes land on her.
"You have five minutes."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
"You're buying our land," she said directly.
"Yes."
"That land is all we have."
He leaned back slightly. "Then you shouldn't have taken loans against it."
Her jaw tightened. "My father is in the hospital."
"That is unfortunate."
Unfortunate.
Like she was discussing weather.
"I need time," she said. "Just three months."
Silence.
He studied her like a business problem.
"No."
One word.
Final.
Her chest tightened, but she didn't step back.
"What do you want?" she asked.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Excuse me?"
"You don't refuse meetings without a reason. You called me here. So what do you want?"
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Interest.
He stood up slowly and walked toward the window overlooking the city.
"I need a wife."
The words landed heavier than a slap.
She blinked. "What?"
"A contract marriage," he clarified. "One year. Public appearances. Family satisfaction. No emotional expectations."
She stared at him, unsure if this was a joke.
It wasn't.
"In return," he continued calmly, "your land stays yours. Your father's medical expenses will be handled. All debts cleared."
Her breathing became uneven.
"You're insane."
"Possibly."
He turned toward her again.
"But I don't repeat offers."
The room felt smaller.
This wasn't help.
This was a deal.
A transaction.
Marry a man who doesn't believe in love…
Or lose everything.
"What's the catch?" she whispered.
"No falling in love," he said. "And no trying to change me."
She almost laughed.
As if that was even possible.
"I need an answer by tomorrow," he added. "After that, the land papers move forward."
She felt trapped.
But she also felt something else.
Power.
For the first time in weeks… she had an option.
Even if it was dangerous.
She walked toward the door.
Just before leaving, she stopped.
"One year," she said quietly. "And then we're strangers."
His expression didn't change.
"Agreed."
But neither of them noticed the truth hidden in the silence.
Some contracts are easy to sign.
Harder to survive.