Chapter 4 Go pack your bags......

I didn't know whether to run toward him or slap him across the face.

He looked so d*mn calm, standing there like he hadn't disappeared after turning my life inside out. Like he hadn't left me naked, confused, and pregnant without a trace.

And now here he was. No apology. No explanation.

Just that same unreadable face and a presence so powerful it made the air around him feel charged. I crossed my arms and took a step back.

"You've got some nerve showing up like this." His eyes scanned my face like he was searching for something.

"We need to talk."

"No," I said, already shaking my head.

"We needed to talk weeks ago. But you vanished. Like a ghost. Now you just... show up?"

He tilted his head. "I had business to handle."

"That sounds like a you problem," I snapped, even though my heart was thudding so loud I could barely hear myself.

He stepped closer, and I hated how I didn't move. Hated how part of me still responded to him, even now.

"Come with me," he said, voice low, steady, as if he was used to people doing what he told them.

"I'm not going anywhere with you""

.I'll explain everything. But not here. Just... hear me out."

Something in his tone made me pause.

Not exactly desperate-but serious. Controlled. Like he was trying hard to stay calm.

I looked at him for a long second, then nodded once.

"You've got five minutes. Use them wisely." He drove us to a hotel.

Not the flashy kind, but the discreet, high-end kind where secrets lived behind velvet curtains. We sat in a private suite, and he poured himself a drink before finally turning to face me fully.

"I'm going to be straight with you," he began, finally loosening his tie.

"I need a wife."

I blinked. "A what?"

"A wife. Temporarily. Six months."

I let out a dry laugh. "You've lost your mind."

"I'm serious."

"Oh, I know you are. That's what makes it worse."

"I'll pay you. A lot. Enough to make any problem disappear."

I stood up, heart racing. "So that's what this is? You slept with me, disappeared, and now you want to buy me?"

He didn't flinch. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that.

That night was... unexpected. But now, I need this. And I want you."

I stared at him, completely floored. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough."

"Really?" I folded my arms. "Then tell me what you do know."

He set his drink down and leaned forward. "I know you're sharp. You don't trust easily. You're grieving something. I also know you'd never agree to this if you weren't desperate."

The word hit me in the gut. Desperate. Was I? Maybe. My father was drowning in debt. A debt he would never tell me how he came about it.And now I had a baby on the way. Alone. Still... this felt wrong. Off. I sank back onto the couch and stared at the floor.

"Why do you need a wife so badly?"

He hesitated. Just long enough to make me suspicious.

"Because there are... expectations. My position comes with conditions. My leadership is under scrutiny. A wife, even a temporary one, makes things easier".

More believable." I frowned. "Your leadership of what, exactly?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick manila envelope, and slid it toward me.

"Everything's in there. The terms. The money. The conditions."

I stared at the envelope like it might explode. "If I say no?" I asked quietly.

"Then I'll walk away. And you'll never hear from me again."

I should've told him to go to hell. But instead... I opened the envelope.

The contract was thick, legal. Cold. Full of timelines, expectations, signatures. Six months. No romantic obligations unless agreed upon. Discreet public appearances. Financial compensation upfront-and again at the end.

And the money? It was more than I'd ever seen in my life. Enough to pay off my father's entire debt. Enough to give my baby a future. Enough to breathe. My hands shook as I flipped through the pages. My fingers paused at the line marked Spouse A.

Pierre Elijah Creed.

The name punched the breath out of my lungs.

Pierre Creed.

It echoed in my memory from a name I'd heard in whispers, in internal police reports and crime files sealed behind locked drawers.

Creed.

The leader of the Creed Syndicate. One of the most dangerous criminal families in the country.

A mafia boss. My head snapped up. He was watching me carefully.

"You're..." I could barely form the words.

"You're him."

He said nothing. I stood up so fast the contract fell off my lap.

"Are you out of your mind? You want me-a law enforcement officer-to marry you?"

"It's temporary."

"That's not the point!" I hissed.

"You're a criminal! You're everything I'm sworn to fight against!"

His face remained unreadable, like none of this fazed him. But it fazed me. Oh, it shattered me.

I turned away, pressing my hand to my stomach. He didn't know.

He had no idea he'd already tied himself to me in the most permanent way possible.

"You think money can fix this?" I whispered. "I think money can solve your problems," he said calmly.

I turned back to him, my eyes burning. "This isn't just business, Pierre. You're asking me to sell my soul."

He came closer, slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal.

"No," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to survive. On your terms. Six months. And when it's done... you walk away. Rich. Safe. Debt-free."

I wanted to scream at him. Curse him. But all I could think about was my father's failing health... and the child I hadn't even told him about yet. What choice did I really have?

"I need to think," I said tightly.

"You have until tomorrow."

I didn't sleep that night. I walked circles around my apartment, staring at the ceiling, crying quietly into my hands. My life was a mess of secrets and shattered plans.

But when morning came... I signed. I showed up at the hotel again. Pierre was already waiting.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"No," I admitted. "But I'm doing it anyway."

He nodded once and slid the contract toward me. My pen hovered above the line. Right before the tip touched the paper, I looked at his name again.

Pierre Elijah Creed.

That was when the memory came back fully.

A news article I'd once skimmed. A briefing file buried in our archives. Gun-running. Racketeering. Alleged murders swept under the rug. This man wasn't just rich. He was dangerous.

I signed the papers anyway. Not knowing I was accepting to marry the head of a criminal syndicate permanently.

"Now go packed your bags" Pierre said.