Chapter 2 The Ex with Perfect Teeth

Some women walk into a room and it feels like gravity shifts. Cassandra Voss didn't just walk she owned the space the second she entered, and I realized... I had just signed up for a war I didn't understand.

---

The pen nearly slipped from my fingers.

The woman in the red dress was every tabloid headline personified. Her heels clicked like gunshots against the polished floor as she stalked into the penthouse, her glossy black hair cascading in perfect waves down her back.

Cassandra Voss.

I'd seen her on movie posters, red carpets, and the cover of gossip magazines. She was the woman everyone wanted to be or wanted to be with. And she was currently glaring at me like I was a cockroach crawling across her designer heels.

"Cassandra," Liam said evenly, his voice dropping an octave into a dangerous calm. "This is not the time."

"Not the time?" Her laugh was sharp, bitter. "Oh, I think it's the perfect time. I came to get the rest of my things, and what do I find?" Her eyes raked over me, her gaze slicing like a knife. "This."

I swallowed hard, feeling heat creep up my neck. My entire body screamed to shrink, to disappear into the leather chair, but I forced myself to straighten my shoulders.

"I" My voice cracked. I cleared my throat. "I think I should go."

"No," Liam said, his command like steel. He didn't even glance at me, his cold, gray eyes locked on Cassandra. "You are not leaving."

Cassandra tilted her head, her lips curling into a smile that was more predator than pretty. "So it's true. You're replacing me already. What is she, Liam? Another actress trying to climb her way up using your bed?"

"That's enough," he said, and for the first time, I heard something beneath the calm an edge of fury.

"She's no one!" Cassandra spat, ignoring him, her attention laser-focused on me. "You think you can just waltz into this world because he throws you a bone? Do you know what they'll do to you? The press will eat you alive. And when they're done, he'll move on, and you'll be nothing but a meme."

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. She wasn't entirely wrong. I was no one. I didn't have her confidence, her fame, or her armor.

But before I could respond, Liam moved.

In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between us and placed a hand on the back of my chair close enough to feel his presence like heat radiating through me. "Cassandra," he said, his voice like a warning. "Get. Out."

Her perfect red lips parted, and for a moment, I saw the flash of vulnerability in her eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced by anger as she grabbed a crystal vase from the console table.

"You'll regret this," she hissed, slamming it down. The crash echoed like a gunshot, shards scattering across the white marble.

She turned on her heel and disappeared through the door, leaving the air heavy with tension and the faint scent of expensive perfume.

---

The room fell silent.

My heart was still pounding as I stared at the broken glass on the floor. Liam didn't move immediately. He just stood there, shoulders taut, jaw tight, as though forcing himself to stay calm.

Finally, he turned to me. "Are you hurt?"

I blinked. "What? No. I" I stopped when I realized he was scanning me, his gaze briefly softening, searching for any sign of injury.

Something warm flickered in my chest, and I hated that I noticed it.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, his voice lower now, almost... human.

I swallowed, unsure if I should laugh or cry. "So... that was your ex-fiancée?"

"Yes." His tone clipped the word like it tasted bitter.

"And she just..." I gestured vaguely toward the shattered vase. "Does this... happen often?"

"Occasionally," he said with infuriating calm, as if explosive exes were a normal Tuesday event in his life.

I stood slowly, brushing invisible wrinkles from my borrowed skirt, needing to put space between us. "I should... I should think about this," I said, gesturing toward the unsigned contract. "This is a lot."

His gaze followed me, sharp and assessing. "You're scared."

I bristled. "Of course I am! You want me to marry you to a stranger for six months. For money. And apparently, I'll be dodging flying vases and angry movie stars while I'm at it."

For the first time, his mouth curved in what might almost pass for a smile. "You're braver than you think, Miss Patel."

I crossed my arms. "And what if I say no?"

"Then the car will take you home," he said simply. "And in six months, your father's studio will belong to the bank. Your choice."

The quiet weight of his words settled over me like a blanket of lead. He wasn't wrong. Every part of me wanted to scream that this was madness, that no amount of money was worth stepping into his world.

But I thought of my father again. His tired eyes. His defeated voice when he told me last week, "Maybe we should just close it, Zo. Maybe dreams aren't enough anymore."

I clenched my fists.

"Fine," I said, surprising even myself. "I'll do it."

Liam's gaze sharpened, as if he'd been expecting my answer all along. He picked up the pen from the table and held it out to me.

"Sign it."

My hand trembled as I scribbled my name on the dotted line.

Somewhere in the distance, a storm rumbled a fitting omen, I thought bitterly.

When I looked up, Liam was studying me with an unreadable expression.

"Welcome to the contract," he said softly. "Your life changes now."

---

The next few hours were a blur. His assistant, a sleek woman named Harper, appeared like a shadow to walk me through the rules. I was to move into the penthouse immediately. I was to accompany Liam to all public appearances. No social media posts without clearance. No interviews without approval.

"And remember," Harper said with a pointed glance, "every move you make reflects on Mr. Blackwood."

By the time I stepped into the car that would take me home to pack, my brain was spinning. I stared at the city lights outside the tinted window, my heart caught between fear and exhilaration.

I had just sold six months of my life to a man I barely knew.

And I couldn't decide if I was the bravest woman alive... or the most foolish.

---

When the car dropped me at my apartment, I was still in a daze. I barely noticed the cracked pavement or the flickering hallway light as I climbed the stairs.

Chloe, my best friend and roommate, was waiting by the door, arms crossed. "Okay, spill. You disappeared for hours and didn't answer your phone. What happened?"

I hesitated, then whispered, "I... I think I just agreed to marry Liam blackwood ."

Chloe's jaw dropped. "What?!"

Before I could explain, a sharp knock rattled the door.

I froze.

It was almost midnight. No one knocked on our door this late.

Chloe frowned, stepping toward the peephole. "Um... Zo ?" she whispered. "There's a man in a suit out there."

A chill ran down my spine.

"Who is it?" I whispered.

Before she could answer, the deep, commanding voice on the other side of the door made my blood run cold.

"Miss Patel," the man said. "Mr. Blackwood sent me. You need to come with me. Now."

---

My heart lurched into my throat as I realized... whatever world I'd just stepped into, there was no turning back