Chapter 1 IVY'S POV

"You're kidding. Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not. He said you're the only one he'll meet with."

I clutched the phone tighter, pacing in front of the cracked tile floor of the hospital's waiting room. The fluorescent lights buzzed above me like angry wasps, and everything smelled like bleach and bad news.

"You told him I'm not for sale, right?"

"Yes. You said it enough times for both of us." Layla's voice was sharp on the other end, but I heard the worry hiding underneath. "But he's persistent. And Ivy... he knows about your sister."

My stomach turned. "How?"

"He didn't say. Just that he had a proposition for you. And it was time you stopped pretending you didn't want to win."

"I never wanted to win. I wanted a fair shot."

Layla sighed. "Then take the shot now. Or keep watching your sister fade in a place you can't afford."

Silence stretched between us, thick and ugly.

"Where?" I finally asked.

"Penthouse suite. Maddox Tower. Noon."

I hung up and stared at the screen. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to face him again. But hospital bills didn't pay themselves, and Mia's condition wasn't going to pause for my pride.

So I walked to the elevator like I had nothing left to lose.

Because maybe I didn't.

"You're ten minutes early. That's unexpected."

Lucien Deveraux didn't look up as I stepped into the penthouse office. He stood with his back to me, gazing out over the Manhattan skyline like it belonged to him.

Maybe it did.

He turned slowly, eyes roaming my body like I was some inventory he had already bought. He wore black on black, exuding a cold elegance, the kind that said he never had to raise his voice to ruin someone.

"I don't have time to waste," I said.

He smirked. "You always did know how to make an entrance. Sit down."

"I'll stand."

"Ivy."

"Lucien."

His name tasted bitter in my mouth. It had been two years since I last saw him, since he crushed my design pitch in front of an entire boardroom and told me I'd never work in this city with ideas like mine.

"I assume Layla gave you my message."

"She did. I'm here to say no in person."

He arched an eyebrow. "Before you hear the offer?"

"I don't need to hear it. I don't trust you."

"Good. Trust would be a mistake." He walked toward the desk, unbuttoning his cuffs. "But you do need me. Otherwise you wouldn't be here."

I stared him down. "You're enjoying this."

"Of course I am."

"I won't be a pawn in whatever game you're playing with your empire."

"You won't be a pawn. You'll be the queen."

I laughed. "What does that even mean?"

He tossed a thick folder onto the table. My name was printed on the tab in sharp black ink. I didn't touch it.

"I need a wife. Temporarily. You need money. Immediately."

"Get a gold-digger. You've probably got ten of them on speed dial."

"I need someone smart. Presentable. Stubborn enough not to take my last name and disappear in the tabloids." He tilted his head. "You're a headache. But you're also perfect."

"Wow. So flattering." I rolled my eyes at him.

"You'd live here. Wear the ring. Play the part. In return, I'll cover your sister's entire treatment. Plus two hundred thousand in a separate account when the contract ends."

My breath caught. "You looked into Mia?"

"I look into everything. Especially things that make strong women weak."

"You're disgusting." I spat.

"And you're desperate."

I crossed my arms. "You think I'd agree to marry the man who ruined my career and humiliated me in front of an entire boardroom?"

He leaned in, voice low. "I think you care more about your sister than your pride. I think the idea of watching her suffer while you scrape pennies together makes you sick. And I think you hate me just enough to keep things interesting."

"Why me?"

"Because you hate me. Which means you won't fall in love with me. Which means you won't make this messy."

I swallowed hard. "You think this won't get messy?"

"Not if we follow the rules. No sleeping in the same room. No actual intimacy. Appearances only. After twelve months, we both walk away."

"And what do you get?"

"My inheritance. My board off my back. And silence about my personal life for another year."

"Silence from who?"

He smiled, sharp and wolf-like. "That's not your concern."

I stepped back. "This is insane."

"Probably."

"I don't even like you."

"You don't have to."

"And you think I'd sell myself to you for money?" I asked.

Lucien's eyes flicked to the folder. "No. I think you'd sell your pride to save your sister's life. And that's not the same thing."

The room fell quiet. I stared at the contract. My heartbeat was too loud.,my mouth too dry.

"You'd pay her medical bills. All of them?"

"Every cent."

"Even if she needs long-term care?"

"Whatever it takes."

"And what do I have to be for the public? A trophy wife?" I asked.

"No. You have to be convincing. That's all."

"And if I screw up?"

"Don't." It sounded more like a warning.

I picked up the folder and flipped it open. Cold legal terms blinked up at me, sharp like paper cuts.

He walked behind me, hands sliding into his pockets.

"I don't expect gratitude, Ivy. I expect you to act. And you're good at pretending things don't hurt."

I turned slowly, meeting his gaze.

"And you're good at pretending you have a heart." I retorted.

He smirked, the kind of smirk that made people punch walls. "Sign by tomorrow. The clock's ticking."

I slammed the folder shut. "Don't give me deadlines like you own me."

"Then stop walking in here like I don't."

The words punched the air between us, louder than the silence that followed.

I should have walked away. I should have thrown the contract back at him and told him to burn it.

But I didn't.

Because Lucien was right about one thing.

I was desperate.

"I'll think about it," I said.

"No. You'll come back tomorrow and say yes." He replied, matter-of-factly.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because when you dream about her dying tonight, you'll realize pride is a luxury you can't afford."

I walked to the elevator without another word, my hands shaking, my throat burning.

And just before the doors closed, I heard him say my name again.

Soft this time.

Like a warning.

"Ivy."

I looked back.

"Don't fall for me. I won't catch you."

But that wasn't what made my blood go cold.

What did was the man waiting in the hallway just outside the penthouse.

The man who wasn't supposed to know where I was.

And the man who once promised if I ever crossed him again, he'd finish what he started.

And this time, he wasn't smiling.