Chapter 2 0002

I didn't sleep that night.

How could I? I kept staring at the check as if it might vanish if I blinked. The zeros looked like a cruel joke. Unreachable. Unreal. But they weren't. They were real. Tangible. Enough to save my mother's life.

And yet, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

The thought of marrying a man I had never met, a man so far from my world, so powerful, so unknown it should've terrified me. And it did. But not more than the sight of my mother's pale face and shallow breathing in that hospital room.

So, when the clock struck 11:59 p.m., I found myself exactly where I swore I wouldn't be. Standing outside Blackwood Towers.

I hesitated at the entrance, the towering glass structure looming above me like a fortress. The city lights reflected off its sleek walls. Cold and intimidating.

I would've preferred a more normal meeting maybe in a house or something but I didn't know the location of the Blackwood estate. Hell... nobody did.

The security guard had been expecting me. He didn't ask questions. He simply led me into a private elevator that whisked me up to the top floor in eerie silence.

By the time the doors opened, my heart was a drumbeat in my ears.

I stepped into a hallway so pristine and modern, I was afraid my cheap flats would leave scuff marks on the marble. A woman in a grey suit greeted me at the door and offered a polite nod.

Who wears a suit at midnight? Who works at midnight, anyway?

"This way, Miss Monroe."

I followed her down the hall into a large, dimly lit office. It looked nothing like I'd imagined. Sleek, but strangely empty. As though its owner had stripped away anything personal.

And then I saw him.

Alexander Blackwood.

He was seated behind a dark glass desk, fingers steepled, eyes locked on me the moment I walked in. The pictures in magazines didn't do him justice. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features and an unnatural stillness about him. His eyes.... storm-grey and icy, pierced straight through me.

For a second, I forgot how to breathe.

"You're late," he said simply, his voice smooth but clipped. He looked at me like he'd seen me a hundred times before.

"I'm not," I managed to reply. "It's still before midnight."

His lips twitched something between a smirk and a sneer. "You came. I wasn't sure you would."

"I almost didn't."

"But you did. That's all that matters."

I hovered awkwardly near the door, unsure whether to speak, sit, or run.

He gestured to the seat across from him. "Sit. Let's not waste time."

I obeyed, clutching my purse tightly on my lap.

"Um... should I introduce myself or...?"

"No need for that," he cut in immediately.

"You understand what this arrangement entails?" he asked.

"Your clerk... guy explained... the basics."

"Then let me clarify the specifics." He pulled a document from a folder. "This is a legally binding contract. You will be my wife for six months. Publicly. You'll attend events with me, live in my residence, and wear my name. But you will not interfere in my business, ask personal questions, or overstep your role."

I nodded slowly, trying to absorb each word.

"In exchange, your mother will receive full medical coverage. The agreed sum will be deposited upon signing. An additional bonus will be provided at the end of six months."

I froze. "Additional bonus?"

He tilted his head slightly. "A million dollars. If you fulfill all terms without breaching the contract."

I nearly choked. A million? Was this man serious?

Who gives a million dollars to a stranger?

"I don't understand why I'm worth that much," I admitted honestly.

His eyes narrowed. "Because I decided you are."

My breath hitched. The way he said it.... it was unnerving. Like my entire existence had been reduced to a calculated transaction.

"But why marriage?" I asked, needing to hear it from his mouth. "Why not hire a PR specialist or a fake girlfriend?"

"Because I need a wife. Not a date. A legal spouse. It's... complicated."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't owe you an answer," he said coolly. "You either agree, or walk out."

My fingers gripped the edge of the seat. "What if I do walk out?"

"Then your mother dies," he said without flinching. "And I find someone else who looks enough like her."

Her?

I stared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

Silence.

His jaw clenched. Just slightly. But he didn't respond.

"Who is this... her?" I asked softly. "The woman I resemble?"

He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "That's not part of the contract."

"But it's part of the reason I'm here."

"That's none of your business."

I wanted to push. But something in his tone told me he wouldn't entertain more questions. And honestly, I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

His next words cut through my thoughts like a blade.

"You'll move into my estate tomorrow. The staff will show you around. You'll have access to your own room, wardrobe, and anything you need. But let me be very clear. This is not a real marriage. Do not expect affection, companionship, or attention. You are a role to be played. Nothing more."

I swallowed hard. "Understood."

He slid a finer copy of the contract toward me, along with a gold pen. "Sign."

I stared at the paper. My fingers hovered over the line. The ink was still fresh. My name was typed neatly beside his.

Isla Monroe–Blackwood.

My hand trembled.

This wasn't just a signature.

It was surrender.

To a stranger. A contract. A life I didn't choose.

But what choice did I really have?

I signed.

When I looked up, Alexander didn't say anything. He just nodded and stood.

"You'll be escorted home. Pack your things. Be ready by 10 a.m."

I rose slowly, unsure what to say. I had just agreed to sell six months of my life to a man whose eyes looked like they'd never known warmth.

As I turned to leave, his voice echoed behind me.

"Don't disappoint me, Isla."

His voice was calm. But the message was crystal clear.

I belonged to him now.... at least on paper.

And yet, deep in my gut, I knew this wasn't just paper.

But what haunted me most wasn't the contract.

It was the lingering thought I couldn't shake:

How did Alexander Blackwood even know a lowlife like me existed?