Chapter 3 The Deal

Amira's POV

The last text Jace sent me was just three words.

"I love you."

That was two hours ago.

Now his phone was off. No calls. No texts. Nothing.

I paced the narrow living room, fingers trembling as I held my phone to my chest like it could bring him back. I kept calling. Kept hoping. But all I got was voicemail. Again. And again.

My hands were ice.

The door slammed open before I could even scream.

Three men stood there. Tall. Broad. Shadows with faces. One of them had a scar across his jaw. Another was chewing a toothpick, like this was just another boring afternoon.

"Where is he?" I asked, voice shaking.

Toothpick Guy stepped in first. "Gone for now. Safe. Depends on you, sweetheart."

My knees buckled. I held onto the edge of the couch for balance. "What do you mean gone? Where is Jace? What did you do to him?!"

Scarface shrugged like it didn't matter. "Nothing yet. He's just... with us. Our insurance."

Insurance.

They'd taken my little brother. My only family.

"You bastards," I whispered, hot tears sliding down my cheeks.

Toothpick Guy bent down, his breath sour. "Don't be stupid, Amira. Your old man borrowed over a hundred grand from us. He never paid. Thought dying would get him out of it. But debts don't die with the man. They pass on."

I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering.

"What do you want?" I choked out.

"Money," he said flatly. "By the end of the week. Or we send you his bones in a box."

He straightened up and turned toward the door like it was already decided.

"Wait!" I cried. "Please-I don't have that kind of money. I don't even have a job right now."

Toothpick Guy paused, then smiled. "Then you better find a way."

And then they were gone.

Just like that.

The silence that followed felt louder than anything else.

My body folded to the floor. My hands dug into the worn carpet. I sobbed into it, helpless. Jace. My baby brother. My whole world.

I didn't even hear the knock on the door.

When it came again-slow, hard, deliberate-I stood, eyes swollen, and opened it with a broken kind of strength.

He stood there like he owned the city.

An older man, tall, straight-backed, dressed in the kind of suit that cost more than this entire apartment complex. Silver hair. Sharp blue eyes. Cold like steel.

"Amira Wynters?" he asked, voice deep and commanding.

I nodded, confused.

He stepped in without waiting for an invitation. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the chipped paint, the secondhand furniture, the raw panic still lingering in the air.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a small card from his coat pocket and placed it gently on the coffee table.

Vincent Devereux

The name hit me like a slap. I had even heard of the Devereux empire. The man standing in my living room was one of the most feared and respected businessmen in the country.

"I came here," he said calmly, "because of your father."

My stomach dropped.

He sat down like he belonged there. "Your father embezzled money from my company years ago. Millions.

Disappeared before we could recover it. We found out too late-he had diverted the funds through fake accounts. He was a clever man."

I stood frozen. "No... you're lying."

His eyes narrowed. "I never lie, Miss Amira."

My legs gave out, and I sat across from him, gripping my knees. My head was spinning.

"He... he never told me-"

"Of course he didn't. Men like your father rarely do." He leaned forward. "But that money, Amira, is still owed. By law, you and your brother are not responsible. But I'm not here for the law."

My heart pounded.

"Then why are you here?" I asked, whispering.

His smile was thin. Calculated.

"Because I'm offering you a way out."

I didn't breathe.

"You're in debt. Your brother has been taken. You don't have options."

"How do you know about-"

"I know everything," he cut in.

I swallowed hard.

"I need you to enter a contract marriage with my grandson," he said bluntly.

Silence.

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.

It didn't come.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"A marriage. Just for one year. Nothing more. In return, you will receive five million dollars. Enough to pay off every debt you've ever known and secure a future for your brother."

Five million dollars.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why would you want that?"

His eyes were sharp. "Because my grandson, Lucien, has twenty-eight days to get married or lose control of the company he inherited. He

doesn't care for love. He only needs someone to stand beside him, wear a ring, smile for the cameras, and disappear when the contract ends."

I was stunned.

A contract wife?

He stood. Adjusted his cufflinks.

"You'll be well taken care of. In public, you'll be the perfect wife. Behind closed doors, your life is your own. But you must stay married for a full year. Divorce any earlier, and the deal is off."

My lips trembled. "And if I say no?"

He looked at me like I'd asked a foolish question.

"Then your brother dies. And you live in debt for the rest of your life."

The door opened.

He started to leave, then paused.

"I'll give you twenty-four hours."

And then he was gone.

I sat there, stunned, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.

My eyes drifted to the business card on the table.

Vincent Devereux.

I didn't know what to think. What to feel. Everything inside me was screaming. But all I could see was Jace. Alone. Afraid. Taken. And all I had to do to save him... was marry a stranger.

Not for love.

Not for forever.

Just for one year.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. And I realized, as the tears dried, I didn't have a choice.

Because when life rips everything away from you-when all you have left is survival-you learn to do the unthinkable.

For the people you love.