Almost Strangers

Vera's POV

The night they came for my mother, I was at the dining table, stuck on the same mathematics question for what felt like an hour, tapping my pencil against the page while she moved around the kitchen behind me. She had been unusually quiet all evening, and even at eleven years old, I could tell something was wrong. Every few minutes she stopped what she was doing and glanced toward the window, as though she were expecting someone she didn't want to see.

"Mom, are you okay?" I finally asked, turning around in my chair.

She looked at me and forced a smile. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Just finish your homework before it gets too late."

I wanted to believe her, so I turned back to my book. Before I could solve the next question, three hard knocks landed against the front door and my mother went completely still not the stillness of someone pausing, but the stillness of someone bracing.

She dried her hands slowly on the kitchen towel and stared at the door while I watched her from my seat, trying to understand why she suddenly looked afraid.

A second knock followed, louder.

"Mom?" I whispered.

She didn't answer. She crossed to the door with slow, uncertain steps, and her hand stayed on the knob for several seconds before she finally opened it to two police officers.

All the color left her face.

"Lillian Collins?" one of them asked.

She swallowed hard. "Yes."

"I'm afraid you need to come with us."

I shoved my chair back so hard it screeched against the floor. "Why are you taking my mom?"

She turned to me, and whatever was in her eyes frightened me more than the officers did. She crossed the room and knelt beside my chair, taking both my hands in hers.

"Vera, listen to me carefully," she said, her voice shaking despite how hard she was fighting to hold it steady. "Whatever happens tonight, you have to remember that I love you."

"What happened?" I asked, confused.

Her eyes filled, and she blinked the tears back before they could fall.

"There was an accident," she whispered. "Someone died, and they think it was me."

My heart was pounding now. "But you didn't do anything."

"I know what I did and what I didn't do." She squeezed my hands, then glanced nervously at the officers waiting by the door. "One day you might understand all of it. Until then, don't let anyone convince you that you're guilty because of me."

I didn't understand what she meant .I was too young to know how one terrible night could follow a person for years, or how easily a lie becomes the truth once enough people decide to believe it.

"Mom, don't go," I begged, tears sliding down my face. "Please."

She pulled me into her arms and held on tight."I'm sorry, Vera," she whispered into my hair. "I'm so sorry."

The officers separated us, and I stood frozen in the middle of our small living room as she walked toward the door. She looked back once, and for that last second I saw my mother again instead of the frightened woman standing in front of the police. Then the door closed behind her, and my childhood stopped feeling normal from that night on.

For weeks I kept waiting for someone to tell me it had all been a mistake, that she'd be coming home. Instead the whispers started about the accident, about the Morgan family, about the woman who had died and the family that had supposedly caused it. I didn't understand why people had started looking at me differently, as if I'd done something too.

Before that night, the Collins and the Morgan families had been close, and their son had been my best friend. Aries was two years older than me, but I never thought of him as anything other than the person I trusted most in the world. He was the one who waited for me after school when I was slow packing my bag, the one who taught me to ride a bicycle and laughed every time I landed in the grass, the one who told me nothing would ever happen to me because he'd be there.

The last thing he ever gave me was a small silver bracelet. I still remember the afternoon he clasped it around my wrist.

"So you won't forget me," he said, grinning.

I laughed, because the idea seemed ridiculous. "Why would I forget you?"

"Because one day I'm going to be famous, and you'll be too important to remember me."

"I won't."

"You will," he said, smiling like he already knew I was lying.

Neither of us knew that we'd be torn apart before we ever got the chance to say goodbye. After my mother was sent away, Aries vanished from my life without explanation, my father grew distant and unreliable, and I learned early how to manage things on my own. I grew up carrying questions I was never allowed to ask, and memories I could never quite put down.

Fifteen years passed. By the time I graduated from university, I had convinced myself that the boy with the crooked smile and the silver bracelet belonged to a life I'd long since outgrown.

At least, that's what I told myself.

On my first morning at Morgan Technologies, I stood outside the enormous glass building with my résumé folder pressed to my chest, trying to convince myself I belonged there. I had worked too hard for this job months of searching, interviews, and rejections to let nerves get in the way now. I finally had a position as a secretary at one of the most powerful companies in Los Angeles, and I intended to keep it.

I took a breath and walked through the revolving doors into a lobby that looked like money: marble floors reflecting the overhead lights, employees moving briskly in every direction, nothing like the modest offices I'd worked in through university.

I gave the receptionist my name.

"Vera Collins."

She checked her screen, then smiled. "You're expected on the executive floor."

"Thank you."

I stepped into the elevator and watched the numbers climb, with no idea that the doors would open on the one person I'd spent fifteen years trying not to remember.

I followed the receptionist down the hall to the CEO's office. She knocked once before opening the door.

"Mr. Aries, your new secretary is here."

I stepped inside. The man by the windows turned around, and for a moment I forgot how to breathe.

He was taller than I remembered, broader through the shoulders, nothing like the boy who still lived somewhere in the back of my memory. His hair was cut sharp, his features had settled into something harder, and the suit he wore fit him the way power usually does. But his eyes hadn't changed at all, and I knew them instantly.

Aries. My best friend. The boy who once promised I'd never forget him.

He looked at me, and for half a second something shifted behind his expression there and gone before I could be sure I hadn't imagined it.

He knew me,I was certain of it.

I waited for him to say my name.

Instead, his face closed over, smooth and unreadable.

"Your name?" he asked, his voice even.

Something in my chest dropped. "Vera Collins."

His eyes stayed on mine, giving nothing away. "Alright, Ms. Collins. You can leave your résumé with my assistant."

I didn't move. He was actually going to do this after everything we'd once meant to each other, he was going to stand there and pretend I was a stranger.

I made myself speak past the tightness in my throat. "Have we met before?"

For one instant, something in his eyes cracked open. Then it sealed shut again.

"I don't believe so," he said.

And just like that, the boy I had spent fifteen years trying to forget became a stranger all over again this time, by his own choice.

Vera's POV

I left Aries's office that morning with my head full of questions and a strange weight sitting in my chest. I told myself I had probably misread the look on his face, that maybe fifteen years had changed him enough that the boy I remembered really was gone. But I knew better. There had been no mistaking that flash of recognition before he shut it down and put the cold expression back in its place.

He remembered me,He just didn't want me to know it. I said in a whisper .

I pushed the thought aside as I settled into my new desk outside his office, reminding myself I hadn't come to Morgan Technologies to reopen the past. I'd come because I needed the job, and more than that, I needed the salary attached to it. My father had left behind enough unpaid bills to make every one of them feel like another weight on my shoulders, and I'd promised myself long ago that I would never depend on anyone else to dig me out.

For the first few hours, everything felt ordinary ,until his assistant set a thick stack of documents on my desk.

"Mr. Aries wants these organized before the end of the day," she said.

I looked at the stack, then at her. "All of them?"

"I'm afraid so," she said, with a look that was somewhere between sympathy and warning.

"Alright," I said. "I'll get them done."

By lunchtime, another stack had appeared. Then another. Every time I thought I'd cleared my desk, something new arrived from his office ,meeting schedules to rearrange, reports to organize, calls to return, documents to review before they went out to other departments. None of it was impossible on its own, but the sheer volume made his intent obvious. He was testing me, maybe hoping I'd quit, maybe hoping a miserable first week would be enough to send me running.

He clearly didn't know how many years I'd already spent proving I don't scare that easily.

When the last file landed on my desk late in the afternoon, I leaned back and rubbed my eyes, glancing toward his closed office doors and imagining the satisfied look he was probably wearing behind them. Instead of giving him anything, I picked the file back up and kept working.

Aries'POV

I watched her through the glass expecting frustration, complaints, a request for help, maybe her walking in to tell me the workload was unreasonable. Instead she'd spent the entire day working in silence, refusing to give me the satisfaction of watching her break.

She was exactly as stubborn as I remembered.That was the problem.

I stood behind my desk, I had recognized her the second she walked in. There had been no confusion in it, no uncertainty, and no need at all for the question she'd asked me.

I remembered everything. Her blue eyes. Her laugh. The way she used to trail after him no matter how much he complained about it. The silver bracelet I'd clasped around her wrist the summer before our families were torn apart.

Most of all, I remembered what came after. For fifteen years I believed her family destroyed mine. I watched my father carry that anger night after night until it became my own. Until she walked back into my life and brought all of it up with her.

Facing those memories was harder than burying them again, so I decided to take the easier road by pretending not to know her.

A knock cut through my thoughts. My father walked in without waiting to be asked.

Marco Morgan carried himself with the same authority he always had, his expression stern as he settled into the chair across from my desk.

"We need to talk about the merger," he said.

I returned to my seat. "Then talk."

Marco laid several documents on the desk. "The board wants stability before the agreement is signed. The other family expects you to settle down before the deal moves forward."

"You're talking about marriage."

"I'm telling you marriage will strengthen your position." he said firmly, his voice low and authoritative.

"I don't need a wife to run my company."I said flatly.

Marco leaned back, studying him. "You need the confidence of the people who've invested in it. Whether you like it or not, your personal life is part of the arrangement now."

My jaw tightened. I spent years building this company so no one could dictate my decisions, and now my father was sitting across from me, telling me who to marry.

"I won't marry a woman just because you think it'll make a deal easier."

Marco's eyes narrowed. "Then find someone yourself."

Silence settled over the room. My gaze drifted toward the glass wall separating my office from the reception area, where Vera sat still bent over another document, completely unaware of the conversation happening a few feet away.

An idea began forming reckless, probably the worst decision I could make, and somehow the only one that made sense.

Vera needed money. I could solve years of financial trouble for her without much effort. I needed a wife who would satisfy my father's demands without expecting love, or affection, or any permanent place in my life. And Vera, of all people, understood the terms of a contract better than anyone I knew.

Marco stood. "Well?" Aries looked up. "I'll handle it."

My father studied him a moment longer, suspicious but silent, and left the office.

The second the door clicked shut, I leaned back and stared at the ceiling, wondering when exactly my life had gotten complicated enough that Iwas actually considering marrying the woman whose family I'd spent years blaming.

I know she wouldn't agree easily. I also know exactly what would make her hesitate.

Money.

I looked through the glass again. She was still buried in work. I picked up my phone.

"Send Vera Collins into my office when she's finished," I told my assistant.

There was a short pause. "Is everything alright, sir?"

My eyes stayed on Vera.

"Yes," I said evenly. "I just have a proposal for her."

And this time, it had nothing to do with business.

Vera's POV

I stood outside Aries's office for several seconds, trying to guess why he'd asked to see me again. Since my first day at Morgan Technologies he'd made it clear he preferred to keep things strictly professional, so I couldn't imagine what would require a private conversation after everything I'd already finished that afternoon.

When I finally knocked, his voice came from inside. "Come in."

I stepped in and closed the door gently behind me. Aries was standing beside his desk with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up, which somehow made him look even more imposing than he had that morning. His attention settled on me immediately, and although his expression stayed calm, I couldn't shake the feeling that he'd been waiting.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked, keeping my voice professional.

"Yes. Sit down."

I crossed to the chair opposite his desk and sat, my handbag on my lap, while he stayed standing a moment longer before finally taking his own seat. He opened a drawer and pulled out a black folder, setting it in front of him without a word.

I glanced at it, then at him. "Is there a problem with my work?" I asked, a hint of concern creeping into my voice.

"No."His answer was calm and curt.

I frowned "Did I make a mistake on one of the reports?"Did I make a mistake on one of the reports?" I asked cautiously.

"No, Vera." he replied curtly.

The way he said my name made me pause,it was the first time he'd addressed me so directly since I started. For one brief moment I wondered if he was finally going to acknowledge the past, but whatever hope had risen in me died the second I saw how unreadable his face still was.

"Then why am I here?" I asked, suspicion creeping into my voice.

He opened the folder, glanced through the papers, and looked back up at me. "I have a proposition for you."His expression gave nothing away.

"What kind of proposition?"I asked nervously.

"A personal one." His voice was low and unreadable.

That answer straightened my spine. Of all the things I'd expected from him, that wasn't one of them.

He leaned back in his chair, studying me like he was deciding how much I needed to know. "My father expects me to get married."

I was sure I'd misheard him. "I'm sorry?"

"My father expects me to get married because of a business arrangement tied to the company. I have no intention of marrying the woman he's chosen, but I need a solution that satisfies the agreement."

"I don't understand what that has to do with me."Confusion crept into my voice, followed by a growing sense of unease.

He slid the folder across the desk. "I want you to marry me."

For several seconds I could only stare at him the words simply refused to make sense, and I was certain I'd misunderstood him a second time. "You want me to do what?"

"I want you to become my wife."His tone remained firm and unwavering.

A nervous laugh escaped me, because it was the only response I had left. "You barely speak to me unless there's work involved, and now you're asking me to marry you?" I sounded disbelieving, with a hint of accusation slipping into my voice.

"This wouldn't be a normal marriage."His tone softened slightly, almost as though he were trying to make the situation sound reasonable.

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"I asked sarcastically.

He ignored the question and kept going. "It would be a contract marriage. We'd stay married for one year, and during that time, you'd play the role of my wife whenever necessary. At the end of the agreement, we'd divorce quietly and go our separate ways."

I looked back down at the contract, feeling as if someone had dropped an entirely different life into my lap. "And why me?"

His answer came without a beat of hesitation. "Because I know you'll accept the terms."

"You don't know me well enough to say that." My voice turned defensive, irritation beginning to surface.

Something almost amused flickered across his face before it vanished. "I know enough."

"No, you don't". I replied firmly, my voice edged with defiance.

He said nothing, and I felt my irritation climb with every second of silence. "You know my name because I'm your employee. You know where I work, and probably where I live, because it's in my file. That doesn't mean you know me."

His gaze didn't waver. "You're right," he said eventually. "I don't know everything about you."

It should have made me feel better instead it landed the opposite way.

I looked down at the contract again and caught the figure written into the agreement more money than I'd earned in several years combined. I looked away fast, refusing to let him see how much it had gotten to me.

He noticed anyway. "You need the money."His tone was calm and matter of fact, as though he were stating an obvious fact.

"That's none of your business."I reply, my voice sharp with irritation.

"It becomes my business if you're going to be my wife." He replied evenly, completely unfazed by my attitude.

"I don't need anyone's pity. My voice hardened, pride making every word sharper.

"This isn't pity."pity." His tone remained reassuring.

"Then what is it?" I demanded, frustration slipping into my voice.

"A business arrangement."" He said it simply , almost codly.

His calm only made it worse. I closed the folder and pushed it back across the desk. "Find someone else."

I stood to leave, but he spoke before I reached the door. "You'd receive the payment immediately after the marriage."

I stopped.

"Your debts would be cleared," he went on, his voice measured, "and you'd receive the remaining amount stated in the contract. You'd also have complete financial independence for the duration of the marriage."

I turned back around slowly. "You've been looking into my finances?"

"I needed to know whether you could handle the arrangement." His tone was

practical, as though his invasion of my privacy was perfectly reasonable.

I crossed my arms. "And what makes you think I'd agree just because you're offering money?"

"Nothing." He stood and came around the desk, stopping a few feet from me. "But you've spent years dealing with problems that were never supposed to be yours, Vera. You don't have to pretend money wouldn't make your life easier."

My throat went tight, because he was right, and because he'd noticed at all. "You really have thought this through."

"Yes." His answer was immediate.

"And you expect me to live with you?"I asked warily.

"For one year."His tone was simple.

"And we're supposed to convince everyone we're actually in love?"I asked skeptical.

"You won't have to convince me."There was a faint edge of meaning in his voice.

"What does that mean?"I asked, confused and suddenly cautious.

"It means the arrangement stays between us. Everyone else sees what they expect to see." His tone was controlled and unreadable.

I studied his face for some sign that this was a joke, but he looked completely serious, and there was something unsettling about the whole proposal mostly because this was the same man who'd looked me dead in the eyes and claimed we'd never met.

"You really don't remember me, do you?" I asked, before I could stop myself.

Something shifted in his expression for the briefest second before he looked away. "I don't see what that has to do with the contract."

The answer hurt more than I wanted to admit. I lowered my eyes and took a moment to steady myself before looking at the contract one more time. The sensible half of me was screaming to walk away, but the rest of me kept circling back to the bills waiting at home, the years of carrying burdens that were never mine to carry, and how different my life could look if I just said yes.

I picked up the folder. "I have conditions."My voice was firm, signaling that I wasn't about to surrender completely.

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening." His tone was calm, almost amused.

"Separate bedrooms." I said firmly.

"Agreed." He replied without hesitation.

"You don't control where I go or who I talk to." I continued, my tone becoming more assertive.

"Fine." He said flatly. flatly.

"I keep working unless I decide otherwise." I insisted.

"Agreed." His response was immediate.

"And when the year ends, there are no arguments about the divorce." I said firmly, holding his gaze.

He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Agreed." His tone was steady, though his expression remained unreadable.

I looked down at the contract one final time. Everything about it felt wrong, and yet walking away felt almost impossible. "I need time to think about it." I said cautiously.

"You have until tomorrow." His tone was firm and final.

"That's not much time." I protested, frustration creeping into my voice.

"You don't need more." He replied calmly, leaving no room for argument.

I gave him a sharp look and turned toward the door, but his voice caught me before I reached it.

"Vera." His voice was low and deliberate.

I looked back. For the first time since I'd walked in, there was something different in his eyes, something I couldn't quite name.

"If you accept this, you need to understand one thing." His tone had turned serious.

"What?" I asked cautiously.

"This marriage will have rules, and I expect both of us to follow them." His voice was controlled but commanding.

I held his gaze. "Then I hope you understand that I have rules too." My tone was firm, with a hint of challenge.

A faint smile touched my mouth before I walked out, leaving him standing behind me with the contract still open on his desk.

I didn't know that by the next morning I'd make the decision that would tie my life to the man who had once been my best friend.

And Aries didn't know that the woman he believed he could control with a contract was the same girl he'd spent fifteen years pretending he'd forgotten.