"Desperation has a sound. Hers echoed in silence."
The hospital air reeked of antiseptic and heartache.
Aria Bennett sat motionless on the hard plastic chair outside the emergency unit, her fingers trembling around a crumpled hospital bill. Her eyes stung from hours without blinking, staring at the total as if her fury could erase the numbers.
$137,462.00
That was the cost of her little brother's survival.
Her stomach turned as her thumb brushed over the line that read "Treatment pending: payment required." The nurses had started avoiding eye contact. She knew what that meant. Time was running out.
"You can't just hold a kid's life hostage," she whispered to herself, voice cracking.
But the universe didn't care.
She had already sold her car. Her clothes. Taken a second job at a hotel cleaning rooms she couldn't afford to stay in. But no paycheck, no night shift, no garage sale of her pride would cover this amount.
Unless… unless she did something stupid. Something irreversible.
Her phone buzzed.
Kara (Manager): "You're late. Again. Don't bother showing up. You're fired."
Aria laughed. A dry, humorless sound. She was officially unemployed and bankrupt—with a dying brother depending on her.
Her legs moved before her mind did. She stumbled out of the hospital, into the cold breath of the evening. Her boots slapped the pavement as she walked aimlessly through Midtown, past designer stores she used to dream of, past people who didn't know what it was to beg the universe for mercy.
Then it happened.
She turned a corner and slammed into a wall.
No—not a wall. A man.
Her hands pressed instinctively against a rock-solid chest encased in a tailored charcoal suit. He smelled like expensive leather and something darker. Something dangerous.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, stepping back.
The man looked down at her, unfazed. Chiseled jaw. Icy gray eyes. A presence that screamed power and control.
He wasn't just rich. He was rich rich.
Aria started to walk away, embarrassed, but his voice stopped her cold.
"Miss Bennett?"
She froze. How did he know her name?
"I've been looking for you," he said calmly, stepping forward.
"You… you know me?" Her pulse quickened.
"I know you're in debt. I know your brother is in St. Luke's. And I know you're running out of time."
He extended a black envelope. Her name was engraved in gold.
"What the hell is this?" she asked.
"A solution." His voice was smooth, like silk over a knife. "Open it."
With shaking hands, she peeled the envelope open. Inside was a contract—legal, crisp, terrifying.
Marriage Contract Agreement
Parties: Damien Blackwood and Aria Bennett
Duration: 1 Year
Terms: Confidential
Payment Upon Execution: $2,000,000
She stared at the name.
"Damien Blackwood?" she breathed. "The Blackwood Industries CEO?"
He gave a tight nod. "We marry. You get paid. You walk away after one year, debt-free, and your brother gets the care he needs."
"This is insane," she whispered, scanning the contract like it might burst into flames.
"No intimacy. No emotional attachment. Just appearances. It's business."
"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "You don't even know me."
"I don't need to. I need someone with no ties, no scandals, and no power to screw this up. You're desperate, and desperation makes people… obedient."
Aria bristled. "I'm not a puppet."
His eyes darkened. "You're out of options."
And he was right.
She clutched the paper, her lungs tight. Was this what rock bottom looked like? Signing away your name to a man who treated love like a loophole?
"I need time to think."
"You have 24 hours." He handed her a pen. "After that, the offer disappears. So does your brother's chance."
He turned and walked away, vanishing into a sleek black car waiting at the curb.
Aria stood there, numb, heart thudding. The city spun around her—neon lights, honking taxis, strangers laughing in the distance.
Was she really about to sell her soul for money?
She looked up at the sky, blinking back tears.
"I'm sorry, Noah," she whispered. "But I think I'm about to make a deal with the devil."
***
24 Hours Later
Aria stood outside Blackwood Tower, dressed in the only decent outfit she had—a secondhand black dress and borrowed heels. The building loomed over her like judgment itself.
When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into Damien's world.
Marble floors. Glass walls. Cold perfection.
He stood by the window in his office, looking out at the skyline. When he turned, he didn't smile.
"You've signed it?" he asked.
Aria nodded, handing him the contract.
He took it, examined her signature, then walked to a drawer and pulled out a velvet ring box.
"I had it sized for you," he said.
"You're that confident?"
"I'm rarely wrong."
She opened the box. The diamond glared back at her like an accusation.
"From this moment on," he said, slipping the ring on her finger, "you belong to me."
Just as the words settled between them, his assistant barged in .
"Mr. Blackwood," she said, breathless. "Your ex-fiancée is here. She says she knows about the fake marriage."
Aria's stomach dropped.
Damien's jaw clenched.
And for the first time, his eyes showed something other than control.
Panic.....