Chapter 4 The Coldest Proposal.

POV: Susan Blake.

"I braced myself for the firing I'd earned. Instead, Mark leaned forward and said something far worse: 'You're going to be my wife.'"

The silence after Mark's command felt louder than shouting.

I stood frozen, eyes locked on his as the intercom buzzed faintly with security's acknowledgment. "Good day Mr. Mark Henderson." He didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just watched me like he was calculating every possible version of my future-and which one best served him.

I expected rage. Accusation.

Or possibly sending me to the jail I tried to escape from the hands of Raymond.

But when he finally spoke, his voice was low. Calm. Controlled. "You should've told me the moment it started."

"I know," I whispered.

"Bu who knows. You still might be lying," he added coldly.

"I'm not lying Mr. Mark."

He yelled, "Don't! Don't call me Mister. I am not married."

For a moment, I hesitated. "But. But...." I turned to look at the framed picture hung in his office. The same one I saw yesterday.

I wasn't ready for another conversation at that moment. And besides, that wasn't why I was here, immediately shoving the conversation from digressing. "I am sorry sir. I won't."

His jaw flexed, but he gave a single, curt nod. "Sit down."

I obeyed.

Mark walked to the window, hands clasped behind his back, and stared at the city below like he was weighing it against the cost of trusting me. "I've had people lie to my face with tears in their eyes," he said. "Men with Harvard degrees. Women with perfect alibis. But you-" he turned to me, "you told the truth knowing it could destroy you. That matters."

My throat burned. "So... you believe me?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a file-sleek, bound in leather.

"What's that?" He placed it between us. "It's a solution."

I stared, swiping my finger to open the envelope, only for my eyes to rest on a bold encryption, "A MARRIAGE CONTRACT."

I blinked. "I-I'm sorry, what is this?"

"What does it look like it is?" he said, this time angrily. "Don't waste my time, Miss Susan. Be my wife or I send you behind bars."

My heart stopped. "What!" I laughed. Not out of happiness, but of confusion. "You must be mistaken, Sir. Mark."

Mark Henderson seldom makes mistake.

He made no reaction, moving back to his sit. He opened the file, calmly flipped through the pages. "Raymond is a cunning man, but Evelyn is worse."

"Who is Evelyn if I may ask sir?" I asked, expecting an impatient reply.

"She is my old fiancée," he said with a cold tune, "She's been pushing to force her way back into my life, using board members, media, public appearances to spin a reconciliation fantasy."

I said nothing, just staring at him.

"She wants control," he continued. "Marriage gives her leverage. A Luna to my empire. I need to end the speculation permanently."

"And the only way I can achieve that is for you to marry me."

"Yes. You're credible. You've already disrupted Evelyn's narrative by being here. She hates you now. That's a bonus."

I swallowed. "You want to fake marry someone just to spite your ex?"

He arched a brow. "It's more than spite. It's protection. Legal. Public. Final."

"And you see me as your best weapon. What of Dana? What of Natasha? What of Tristan?"

"Stop the options," he slammed his table, "I wasn't blind when I choose you. But if you might want to know--You're honest bitch. You're desperate. You need protection from Raymond, and I need protection from Evelyn. We both benefit."

His words were precise. Clinical.

Like he wasn't talking about something as sacred-or insane-as marriage, but a business acquisition. "And what do I have to do?" I asked.

"Now you're talking. So you'll move in with me. Attend public functions with me. Learn how to act like a billionaire's wife."

My stomach flipped. "In return, I'll pay off your debts. Cover your mother's hospital bills and protect you from that your wicked former boss."

"My mother is dead."

A pause. Then a quiet, "Oh. I didn't know."

"But you can't just buy people, Mark."

"Here she comes again with her sermons. Are you deal or not and stop this game you're trying to put up."

I stood. "This is crazy."

He didn't flinch. "It's logical."

"And if I turn down this offer?"

"You walk away." His eyes met mine, steady. "But Raymond will ruin you. And Evelyn will still come for me."

I turned away, pacing the room.

My hands trembled. My chest was tight.

How had my life come to this? A week ago, I was drowning in overdue bills and late-night shifts. Now I was being offered a lifeline... that came with a leash.

But wasn't this what I'd dreamed of? A way out?

Security. Freedom. Maybe even a sliver of power.

My parents would've wanted better for me.

Would they have judged me for choosing survival over pride?

"Not so fast!" he called from behind me as I approached the door, handing me a pen.

"Thirty days," he said. "One month. Then, if you want out, I'll annul it. No press. No penalty. But if you stay until the Evelyn issue is handled, I'll triple your payout."

"And after that?"

He shrugged. "We go our separate ways."

His voice said one thing.

His eyes... something else entirely.

They weren't cold anymore.

They were guarded.

Wounded.

"I'll need time to think over this," I murmured.

"You have twelve hours, Susan. Twelve hours."

I spent the night in a hotel.

Paid for by Mark, of course.

Everything felt surreal. The silk sheets. The glass walls. The quiet.

I called no one. I had no one.

I sat on the bed and stared at my reflection in the TV screen.

Was I really about to do this?

Become a wife in name only? Let the world believe I'd snagged a billionaire-when in truth, I was just surviving another kind of storm?

Then I remembered Raymond's last message.

Be a Spy or rot.

I reached for the pen.

The next morning, Mark was waiting in his office, already dressed in a tailored charcoal suit. "Can I come in?" I asked.

An unreadable smile held his lips. "You can Miss Susan."

"You don't have to say anything. You're here to sign the contract." He said, sliding the contract across the desk with that same unreadable calm.

I read every line.

Clause 5: No sexual contact required.

Clause 7: Public affection will be expected during appearances.

Clause 11: Either party may annul the contract with written notice after 30 days.

He'd covered everything.

Except how it would feel.

How I would feel.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded.

Mark signed first, his strokes confident, final.

Then he offered me the pen. "From this moment on, Susan Blake..." he said, voice low, "your life is no longer yours."

I signed.

The next morning, the world woke up to headlines.

"Who Is Mark Henderson's Mystery Bride?"

"Billionaire CEO Secretly Married? Sources Say YES."

"Susan Blake: The Assistant Who Stole a Billionaire's Heart-Or His Company?"

And my face? The front page of the whole city.