The fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the polished floor. I clutched a folder of unpaid bills in one hand while my phone buzzed endlessly in the other.
Every time I thought I could breathe, a nurse appeared with another reminder. Another fee. Another impossible amount.
I was twenty‑two, barely holding my life together, yet somehow responsible for my family's survival.
My mother sat stiffly on one of the waiting chairs, worry etched deep into her face. My younger brother fidgeted beside her, pretending not to be scared.
I pinched the bridge of my nose.
"It's fine," I muttered. "I'll figure it out."
Then the air shifted.
The lobby fell strangely quiet, like everyone sensed something coming. I heard it a second later—the steady click of polished shoes against the floor.
Not ordinary shoes.
Expensive. Confident. The kind that made people stop and look.
I raised my head.
Damien Knox.
Twenty‑seven. Tall. Impeccably dressed. Black hair catching the harsh hospital lights, sharp dark eyes scanning the room like he owned it.
And somehow… he did.
Whispers followed him as he walked. Nurses paused. Patients stared. But he didn't spare any of them a glance.
His eyes locked onto me.
"You're Celeste Hayes," he said calmly.
Not a question.
"Yes," I replied, forcing my spine straight. "And you are?"
"Someone who can fix this."
His gaze flicked to the bills clutched against my chest.
"All of it. Every single one."
My stomach tightened. "Nothing is free."
A corner of his lips lifted slightly. "Correct."
He placed a sleek black folder on the counter between us.
"One year," he said. "You marry me. Appear as my wife in public. Follow my rules."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"At the end of the year, we divorce. You keep the money. I get my family's approval."
I stared at the folder without opening it. I didn't need to.
A marriage contract.
I let out a short, bitter laugh. "You're insane."
"And you're desperate," he replied evenly. "Which is why this works."
I clenched my jaw. "And if I say no?"
"Then your family keeps drowning," he said, unfazed. "Possibly worse."
No pity. No mercy.
"I don't do charity," Damien added. "I do business."
My hands trembled as I reached for the pen.
My mother's eyes met mine. Silent. Trusting. Afraid.
I signed.
"Good," Damien said, straightening. "I like women who understand reality."
My phone buzzed.
My ex.
Saw you with him. Figure that out yourself....
I didn't even reply.
"You'll attend your first public event as my wife tonight," Damien said.
I froze. "Tonight?"
"Yes." His gaze sharpened. "Perfect smile. Perfect behavior. No mistakes."
"And if I fail?" I asked quietly.
"You won't," he said. "Because I'll be watching."
He turned and walked away, the weight of his presence lingering even after the doors closed behind him.
One year.
That was all I had.
No love. No mercy. No escape.
Just a contract… and a man who thought he owned me.
He was wrong