The first thing he said to me wasn't "hello."
It was—
"Marry me."
I thought I misheard him.
People didn't just walk up to strangers and say things like that. Not in real life. Not outside badly written dramas and late-night fantasies.
So I stayed quiet.maybe I misheard.
Seated across from him in a place I couldn't afford, trying not to look like I didn't belong.
The café was too polished. Too quiet. Even the air smelled expensive—like roasted coffee beans and something floral I couldn't name. The kind of place where people spoke in low tones and wore confidence like it was stitched into their clothes.
I didn't fit.it wasn't for me
And yet, here I was.
Sitting across from a man who looked like he owned the building… or at least everyone inside it.
His gaze didn't waver.
"Marry me," he repeated, calmer this time. Like he was asking me to pass him the sugar.
I blinked, Then it hit me, I heard him properly,
Slowly.
"…Excuse me?"
Up close, he was worse.
Not worse as in ugly. No.
Worse as in… dangerous nd ominous.
Everything about him was controlled. His posture. His voice. Even the way his fingers rested lightly on the table like they knew exactly where they were supposed to be.
Dark suit. Clean lines. No unnecessary movement.
His eyes settled on me like he had already made a decision, a decision that can't be changed.
"You heard me."
I let out a quiet breath, leaning back slightly. Creating space. Distance.
"I think you're talking to the wrong person."
"I'm not."
That answer came too quickly.
Too certain.
It made something in my chest tighten.
Silence stretched between us, thick and uncomfortable. I studied him properly this time, trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke.
He didn't look like someone who joked.
"What do you want?" I asked.
Because that was the real question.
People like him didn't do things without reasons or gain.
His lips curved—just slightly. Not a smile. Something more calculated.
"Straight to the point. Good."
"I don't like wasting time."
"Neither do I."
Of course he didn't.
His kind never did.
He reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a thin document. Placing it neatly on the table between us.
"A contract," he said.
I didn't touch it.
Didn't even look down.
"Still sounds like you're talking to the wrong person."
"You need money."
That—
That made me freeze.
Just for a second.
But he noticed.
Of course he did.
His gaze sharpened, like he had just confirmed something.
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, a little too quickly.
"You're three months behind on your rent."
My fingers curled slightly under the table.
"You've been avoiding your landlord's calls."
My heartbeat picked up.
"And your younger brother's school fees are overdue."
That hit harder than it should have.
I stared at him now.
Really stared.
"Who are you?"
"Someone who solves problems."
"No," I shook my head slowly, unease creeping in. "People like you don't solve problems for free."
"I never said it was free."
There it was.
I let out a quiet, humorless laugh.
"Right. Of course."
My eyes finally dropped to the document in front of me.
The word CONTRACT stared back in bold letters.
I still didn't touch it.
"What's the catch?"
"It's simple," he said. "You marry me. Legally. Publicly. For one year."
I looked back up at him.
"And in return?"
"I take care of everything you're struggling with."
Everything.
Such a dangerous word.
"Your rent gets paid. Your brother stays in school. Any financial problem you have disappears."
It sounded unreal.
Like something designed to trap people.
"Why me?" I asked quietly.
That was the part that didn't make sense.
He could have anyone.
Anyone.
So why—
"You're suitable."
I almost laughed again.
"Suitable?"
"You don't talk too much. You mind your business. You don't attract unnecessary attention."
His eyes scanned my face briefly, like he was assessing an object.
"And you're not emotionally reckless."
That last part irritated me more than I expected.
"You don't know me."
"I know enough."
Arrogant.
Controlled.
Too sure of himself.
I didn't like it.
I didn't like him.
And yet…
My mind betrayed me.
Rent.
My brother.
The constant pressure sitting on my chest every single day.
The calls I kept ignoring.
The fear of what would happen if things didn't change soon.
"You'd have to live with me," he continued, as if he could hear my thoughts. "Appear with me when necessary. Play your role convincingly."
"Role?" I echoed.
"My wife."
The word felt heavy.
Unfamiliar.
Dangerous.
"And after one year?"
"We divorce."
Simple.
Clean.
Like it meant nothing.
"And what stops you from changing your mind halfway?"
"Nothing."
Honest.
Too honest.
"But I won't," he added. "I don't break agreements."
"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"
"Yes."
I held his gaze.
Trying to find something—anything—that looked like uncertainty.
There was none.
Just calm confidence.
Like he had already planned ten steps ahead.
"I don't even know your name," I said.
He leaned back slightly, finally giving something that resembled a proper introduction.
"Adrian Cole."
The name rang with quiet authority.
Like it belonged somewhere important.
"And you already know mine," I muttered.
"Yes."
Of course he did.
Silence settled again.
But this time, it wasn't just uncomfortable.
It was heavy.
Because now…
This wasn't a joke anymore.
This was real.
My eyes dropped to the contract again.
I reached for it slowly.
My fingers brushing against the paper.
"Take your time," Adrian said.
"I don't have time," I replied quietly.
That was the problem.
I didn't have time to think.
To weigh options.
To pretend I had a better choice.
Because I didn't.
I flipped the first page.
The terms were clear. Detailed. Precise.
Everything about it screamed control.
Even the way it was written felt like him.
Cold. Direct. Unemotional.
No room for mistakes.
No room for feelings.
"You've done this before?" I asked without looking up.
"No."
That made me pause.
"Then why does this feel like you have?"
"Because I don't leave things to chance."
Of course he didn't.
I swallowed slightly, closing the document.
"This is insane."
"Yes."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I am."
I looked at him again.
Really looked this time.
Trying to understand what kind of man sits across from someone and offers them a marriage like it's a business deal.
Trying to understand why a part of me wasn't walking away.
"You're not forcing me," I said slowly.
"No."
"I can say no and leave."
"Yes."
"But you're sure I won't."
That small, almost invisible curve returned to his lips.
"Yes."
I hated that.
I hated how right he sounded.
Because the truth was—
He had already won the moment he walked in with information about my life I didn't give him.
He had already won the moment he said "everything disappears."
My grip tightened slightly on the contract.
"One year," I repeated.
"One year."
"No feelings."
His gaze held mine.
"That would be ideal."
Ideal.
Not required.
That detail didn't sit right with me.
But I ignored it.
Because I had bigger problems than overthinking a word.
"Fine," I said.
The word left my mouth before I could stop it.
Before I could fully process it.
Before I could change my mind.
But once it was out there…
It stayed.
Adrian didn't react immediately.
He just watched me.
Like he was waiting to see if I'd take it back.
I didn't.
A slow, satisfied calm settled into his expression.
"Good."
I picked up the pen beside the document.
My hand hesitated.
Just for a second.
Because something in me—something quiet but persistent—whispered that this wasn't just a solution.
It was the beginning of something I wouldn't be able to control.
Something complicated.
Messy.
Maybe even dangerous.
But then I thought of my brother.
And I signed.
The moment the pen left the paper…
Adrian reached forward, taking the contract from me with steady hands.
"Welcome," he said, his voice low and certain,
"Mrs. Cole."
And just like that—
Everything changed.