Chapter 1 The Marriage Contract

Elena Hart had never seen her father cry. Not when her mother left, not when his company faced its first lawsuit, not even when he sold her childhood home to keep the business alive.

But this morning, she saw it.

I never imagined my life would come to this. Sitting in a cold waiting room with my coat clutched to my chest, stomach twisted in knots, waiting to meet the man responsible for everything that went wrong in my life. The walls were white, sterile, like the kind you'd see in a hospital or a prison. And maybe that was fitting-because today felt like a sentence.

My phone vibrated in my bag, but I didn't reach for it. I already knew it was another missed call from the debt collector. Or the pharmacy. Or worse-another update about my mother's condition.

Stage four. That was the last word the doctor had used. Terminal, unless she received a full round of aggressive treatment that we simply couldn't afford. All the savings I had left were gone in the first two weeks. I had sold everything worth anything. I had begged. I had applied for charity programs and loans and written to hospitals across three cities.

Nothing worked.

And that's when the offer came.

A man in a dark suit had found me outside the clinic. He said his employer wanted to speak with me privately. I almost told him to get lost. But when he handed me the card and I saw the name printed in clean black letters, my mouth went dry.

Edward Lancaster.

I hadn't heard that name in years. But I hadn't forgotten it either. How could I?

He was the man who had destroyed my father.

The same man who now wanted to meet with me.

And somehow, here I was-too desperate to say no, too angry to care, too scared of what would happen to my mother if I didn't at least hear what he had to say.

A door opened across the hallway.

"Elena?" a deep voice called.

I stood slowly, my knees stiff from sitting too long. I followed the assistant through a long hallway, up a glass elevator, and into a room that looked like it belonged in a skyscraper movie scene-polished floors, chrome details, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a city I hadn't even paid attention to when I arrived.

And there he was.

Edward Lancaster.

Older than I remembered. Sharper. He wore a navy suit, a steel watch, and the kind of confidence that came from never being told no. He stood when I entered and gestured toward a seat.

"Elena. Thank you for coming."

I sat without responding. I wasn't here to play polite.

"You must be wondering why I asked to see you," he said.

"I'm not wondering. I just don't understand why a man like you cares about someone like me."

He gave a faint smile. "Because you're the answer to a problem I've been trying to solve."

I leaned back, arms crossed. "And what problem would that be?"

"My son," he said.

I froze.

He didn't wait for my reply. "Jace refuses to settle down. He's reckless, unpredictable. And unfortunately for him, the terms of my company's trust make one thing very clear-he must be married by the end of the fiscal year, or he loses his right to inherit."

"And that has what to do with me?" I asked, heart pounding harder now.

"I need a wife for him. A quiet arrangement. Discreet. Legal. I've already vetted you, Elena. I know you're intelligent, private, and in a very difficult position."

My jaw clenched. "So you're offering to... what? Pay me to marry your son?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said. "You'll receive full medical coverage for your mother-completely handled. No expense spared. And in return, you'll be Mrs. Jace Lancaster for one year. After that, you walk away with your mother healed and your life restored."

It felt like a slap I hadn't seen coming. My eyes burned, but I didn't blink. "Your company destroyed my father."

He didn't flinch. "I know."

"Do you have any idea what this sounds like to someone like me?"

"Desperate," he said calmly. "Because you are."

I wanted to scream, to curse him, to throw the chair across the room. But my hands didn't move. My voice didn't rise. Because beneath all the fury and disgust, I knew he was right.

My mother didn't have six months.

And this man was offering to save her.

"What does your son think about this?" I asked.

"I haven't told him yet," Edward said. "But he'll do as I say."

I stood, unable to look him in the eye. "I need time."

"Forty-eight hours," he replied. "I'll have the legal documents sent to your inbox. If you accept, everything begins immediately."

He reached into his pocket and placed a card on the table.

It was white. Gold trim. One word in cursive: Lancaster.

I didn't sleep that night.

I stared at the ceiling of my mother's hospital room, listening to the beeping of her monitor and the occasional shuffle of nurses walking by. Her face was pale. Her breathing shallow. Every time her fingers twitched, I reached for them and held on like I could anchor her here with me.

"I don't know what to do, Mom," I whispered. "I don't want to give up who I am. But I don't want to lose you either."

She didn't answer. She couldn't.

The next morning, I signed the contract.

Two days later, I stood in a marble-floored courthouse wearing a silk cream dress and high heels that pinched my toes. My hair was pinned up. My hands were trembling.

And across from me stood Jace Lancaster.

He didn't look at me when I walked in. He didn't greet me. He just stood there, tall and aloof, like this was all a waste of his time. His jaw was sharp. His expression unreadable.

We said our vows. Simple. Cold. Efficient.

When the officiant said "You may now kiss the bride," he didn't.

He just turned, signed the marriage license, and walked out of the room.

I stood alone beside a bouquet I hadn't picked, wondering if this was the first day of a better life-or the beginning of another kind of prison.

That night, I was driven to a mansion on the coast. Glass walls. Endless hallways. Rooms too quiet to feel real. A house built for wealth, not warmth.

A house built for a Lancaster.

I was shown to my room-on the opposite side of the house from his.

There was no "wedding night." No toast. No first dance. Just silence and walls and a brand-new last name I couldn't say out loud without flinching.

I stood at the balcony, staring out at the dark waves crashing against the shore.

And I asked myself the question I had refused to face until now.

What have you done, Elena?