Chapter 1 One****Coffee stains

Lily winters never had grand plans for her life, but she also never imagined starting her morning wrestling with a stubborn coffee machine. Steam hissed aggressively as she pressed the button for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"Come on, you piece of junk," she muttered, smacking the machine's side. It gurgled, spat out half a shot of coffee, then died. She stared at the pitiful puddle in her mug. "Perfect. Just the motivation I needed for today's thrilling schedule of mediocrity."

Grabbing her coat, Lily made a mental note to finally replace the ancient machine-right after she paid rent, settled her credit card bills, and figured out why her heater sounded like a dying walrus. Balancing her bag, a notebook, and a half-empty thermos, she bolted out the door, narrowly avoiding her nosy neighbor.

---

Across the city, Damien Cross was having a much more productive morning-or so he thought. He stood in his sprawling glass-walled office, scrolling through reports on a sleek tablet. His assistant, Greg, cleared his throat, cautiously stepping into the lion's den.

"The merger with Harrow Corp is on track," Greg said, glancing at Damien's sharp profile. "But... there's a complication."

Damien's icy blue eyes flicked up, cutting through Greg like a laser. "Complication?"

"Yes, sir." Greg shifted uncomfortably. "Harrow's chairman is insisting on, uh, a family-centric partnership. He believes it would solidify the merger's... optics."

Damien raised an eyebrow. "Family-centric? Are we merging companies or planning a wedding?"

Greg hesitated. "He's specifically... suggested that you appear more settled. Married, to be precise."

The room went quiet, save for the distant hum of the city below. Damien tapped his fingers against the desk, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well," he said, leaning back in his chair, "if Harrow wants a fairy tale, I'll give him one."

---

Lily's day wasn't getting any better. The ad agency she worked for was hosting a brainstorming session, which, as usual, was code for "Let's throw ridiculous ideas at the wall and see which one sticks." She spent most of the meeting doodling in her notebook, only half-listening to her boss's monologue about "synergy."

As the meeting dragged on, her phone buzzed. It was a message from her best friend, Mia.

Mia: Don't freak out, but someone's asking questions about you. Some guy in a suit. Real intense.

Lily frowned, typing back.

Lily: What kind of questions?

Mia: No idea, but he looked like he stepped out of a billionaire romance novel.

Lily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. More likely a debt collector or someone I accidentally cut off in traffic last week," she muttered.

But the unease settled in her stomach like a stone.

---

By the time Lily got home that evening, she was exhausted and ready to collapse into bed. She barely had time to kick off her shoes when there was a sharp knock at her door.

Opening it, she came face-to-face with the last person she expected: a man who looked like he belonged in a magazine ad for luxury watches. His tailored suit fit perfectly, his dark hair was slicked back, and his piercing gaze locked onto hers.

"Lily winters ?"

"Depends. Who's asking?" She folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

"I'm Damien Cross."

The name didn't register, but his self-assured tone grated on her nerves. "Okay, Damien Cross. What do you want?"

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. "Your cooperation."

She laughed, a short, incredulous sound. "You knock on my door like you're auditioning for The Godfather, and that's your opening line? Try again."

His jaw tightened, but his expression didn't falter. "We need to talk. Privately."

"Listen, Mr. Cross-if that's even your real name-I don't know who you think I am, but-"

"It's about your father," Damien cut in, his voice low and deliberate.

The air shifted. Lily's casual defiance faltered, replaced by a flicker of unease. "What about him?"

"I'd prefer to discuss this somewhere less... public." He gestured toward the hallway, where Mrs. Grady, her elderly neighbor, was blatantly eavesdropping.

Lily hesitated, then reluctantly stepped aside. "Fine. But if you try anything funny, I'm calling the cops."

Damien smirked. "Noted."

---

Inside, the tension was palpable. Lily crossed her arms, watching as Damien surveyed her small apartment with an expression that was impossible to read.

"Nice place," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

"Cut to the chase, Mr. Cross. What do you want with me, and why are you dragging my father into this?"

Damien turned to face her, his expression unreadable. "Let's just say your father made a deal he couldn't keep. And now, I need your help to clean up his mess."

Her stomach twisted. "That's impossible. My father doesn't- he wouldn't-"

"Believe what you want," Damien interrupted. "But the fact remains: you're the only one who can fix this. And before you refuse, you should know that I always get what I want."

Lily stared at him, her heart pounding. Whoever Damien Cross was, he wasn't just some rich guy playing games. He was dangerous.

And somehow, she was caught in his web.