Married To The Cold Hearted Billionaire

Amira's POV

For a second, just one, I could pretend everything was fine. That there weren't red notices stuffed under the door. That Jace didn't need new shoes for school. That Dad wasn't six feet under, leaving nothing but memories and a mountain of debts behind.

But reality doesn't wait for anyone.

I dragged myself up, legs aching from the long shift at the diner last night. My stomach growled, but I ignored it. There was only enough oatmeal left for one person, and I already knew who would get it.

I tiptoed across the cold floor and peeked into Jace's room. He was still curled under the thin blanket, his face peaceful, mouth slightly open. He looked younger in his sleep, like he didn't have the weight of the world pressing down on him.

I walked to the kitchen, the tiles cold against my bare feet. The oatmeal was right where I'd left it-a small tin on the top shelf, tucked behind a chipped mug.

I poured the last scoop into a pot and added water, stirring it slowly as it bubbled. It didn't smell like much, but it would fill Jace's stomach for a little while.

When I placed the bowl in front of him, he blinked up at me, yawning. "You're not eating?"

"I already did," I lied with a smile. "Come on, eat up. You've got school in an hour."

He didn't question me, just started eating with small, grateful bites.

I watched him, trying to memorize everything. His dark curls that refused to stay flat. The way he hummed when he chewed, soft and distracted. I had to keep him safe. That was all that mattered.

My phone buzzed from the counter, the vibration sharp and urgent. I didn't need to check to know who it was.

Rico.

My heart sank.

I let it buzz three times before picking up. "Hello?"

"You got until Friday, Amira," Rico's voice was cold. "After that, we're done waiting. You know what that means."

"I just need more time-"

"We gave you time. A lot of it. Your old man owed us, and you took his place when he bailed on life. We're not running a charity, girl."

I swallowed hard. "Please. I'm trying. I have a job. I'm doing everything I can-"

"You think we care about your job at that rat-hole diner?" he snapped. "$120,000, Amira. Friday. Or Jace starts paying in ways you won't like."

He hung up.

I stood there, phone trembling in my hand, a chill running down my spine. My legs felt weak, like they might fold beneath me. Five thousand dollars. By Friday. That was four days.

Jace looked up, his eyes innocent. "Was that someone from work?"

"Yeah," I forced out, folding my arms so he wouldn't see my shaking hands. "They just needed me to come in earlier today."

He nodded, not asking more. Thank God.

After he left for school with his too-small backpack bouncing behind him, I sat at the edge of the couch and stared at the ceiling. The room felt smaller every day, like the walls were pushing in. Like the air was getting heavier.

The loan sharks hadn't always been this aggressive. At first, it was just calls and notes. Then they started coming by, knocking at the door late at night. Rico was the worst of them. He smiled like it was all a game. Like our pain amused him.

The worst part was the way he looked at Jace the last time he showed up. He didn't say anything, but I knew. It was a threat wrapped in a smile.

I had to find a way. And Fast.

******

The diner smelled like grease and burnt toast, and the coffee machine had been sputtering all morning. I worked the tables, plastering on a smile that barely reached my eyes. Most customers didn't notice. They never did.

"You okay, sweetheart?" asked Mrs. Laney, one of the regulars. Her voice was kind, but her eyes were sharp, always watching.

"Just tired," I said, refilling her cup.

"You look like you got the whole world on your shoulders."

I smiled again, tighter this time. "Maybe just a small piece of it." She reached into her purse and slid a five-dollar bill toward me. "Get yourself something nice, okay?"

My throat tightened. Five dollars wouldn't change my world, but her kindness meant something. I tucked it into my apron.

During my break, I stared at my phone again, fingers hovering over the search bar. Quick loans. Side jobs. Selling my belongings.

The words blurred together. None of them would get me a hundred and twenty thousand dollars in four days.I was still staring at the screen when Jake, one of the cooks, nudged me with his elbow.

"You good?"

I blinked. "Yeah. Just thinking."

He squinted at me. "Have you ever thought about dancing?"

I frowned. "Like... ballet?"

He laughed. "Nah. Like working at clubs. I got a cousin who makes more in one night than you and me make in a week."

My stomach turned. "That's not really... my thing."

He shrugged. "Didn't say it was. Just... if you ever get desperate."

I didn't answer. Just nodded and went back to work.

But the thought wouldn't leave. That night, after Jace was asleep, I sat on the bathroom floor with my knees pulled to my chest.

The bathroom was the only place I could cry without waking him. I kept the faucet running to drown the sound.

What kind of sister would I be if I didn't do everything to protect him? The idea from earlier kept circling in my mind like a vulture.

No, I couldn't.

But... What if I could?

If one night could get me close to the money...

If it meant Jace wouldn't have to look over his shoulder or flinch at every knock on the door...

Maybe it was worth it.

I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked older than they should've. Tired. But there was something else too.

If the world wanted to break me, it would have to try harder. I wasn't doing this because I wanted to.

I was doing this because I had no other choice.

And I'd do anything to keep my brother safe.

Even if it meant breaking myself in the process

Lucien's POV

I tightened my grip on the glass of whiskey in my hand. It was too early to be drinking, but I didn't care. The burn was familiar. So was the silence. I found comfort in both.

Behind me, the office buzzed with quiet activity. My assistant, Clara, typed quickly, barely making a sound. She knew better than to speak unless spoken to.

"Any word from the board?" I asked, not turning around.

"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice low and crisp. "They've scheduled the final review for next month. Your grandfather requested your presence this evening at the estate."

Of course he did.

I nodded once, taking a slow sip.

My grandfather didn't ask for things-he demanded them. And when he gave you a deadline, it wasn't a suggestion. It was a noose tightening around your neck.

I turned to face the office. Clara looked up briefly, then back down. She'd seen me on good days and bad. This wasn't the worst.

"How long do I have?"

"Twenty-eight days."

Twenty-eight days to find a bride. Or lose everything I'd worked for.

Everything my brother left behind.

I clenched my jaw and stared at the floor-to-ceiling window again. Rain was starting to fall. Fitting. It always rains when things go to hell.

"You're late," he said.

"I wasn't aware this was a dinner date," I replied, dryly.

He didn't smile. He never did.

"I gave you everything, Lucien. The name, the company, the legacy. I expect a return on that investment."

I stiffened. "And I've tripled profits in under two years."

"At what cost?" He raised an eyebrow. "You live in that glass tower like a ghost. No wife. No heir. No future."

I swallowed the anger rising in my throat. "You want a future? I'm building it every day in that office."

He stood, slow but strong, the cane tapping against the floor as he stepped closer. "You will be married by the end of this month. Or I will remove you as CEO and hand everything to your cousin Lawrence."

My fists clenched at my sides. "He can't run a lemonade stand."

"But he has a fiancée," Victor said simply. "And that's what matters now. Image. Stability. Control."

I could barely breathe. "You want me to lie? To put on a show?"

"I want you to obey. Like your brother did."

The mention of my brother hit like a blade. I looked away, jaw tight.

Aiden had been perfect. Smart. Kind. Responsible. And then gone. Just like that. One accident, and both he and Elise were erased from my life.

I had taken over everything....his job, his office, his burdens. The weight never left. And now my grandfather wanted me to pretend again. Wear another mask.

Two years of guilt.

I should've been there that night. If I hadn't canceled. If I had taken the wheel. If I had...

I pushed the glass aside and leaned forward, burying my face in my hands. Twenty-eight days was all I had. No woman in her right mind would marry someone like me. Cold. Closed off. Damaged in ways that couldn't be fixed.

And yet, I needed one. Not for love. Not for companionship. For control. For survival.

The kind of woman I was looking for wouldn't be wearing diamonds or sipping champagne at high-society events.

She'd be somewhere in the cracks of this city-struggling, desperate, probably praying for a miracle.

I needed someone with everything to lose. Someone desperate. Someone who needed money more than love. Someone who wouldn't ask too many questions. Someone who could disappear when the deal was over.

Amira's POV

The last text Jace sent me was just three words.

"I love you."

That was two hours ago.

Now his phone was off. No calls. No texts. Nothing.

I paced the narrow living room, fingers trembling as I held my phone to my chest like it could bring him back. I kept calling. Kept hoping. But all I got was voicemail. Again. And again.

My hands were ice.

The door slammed open before I could even scream.

Three men stood there. Tall. Broad. Shadows with faces. One of them had a scar across his jaw. Another was chewing a toothpick, like this was just another boring afternoon.

"Where is he?" I asked, voice shaking.

Toothpick Guy stepped in first. "Gone for now. Safe. Depends on you, sweetheart."

My knees buckled. I held onto the edge of the couch for balance. "What do you mean gone? Where is Jace? What did you do to him?!"

Scarface shrugged like it didn't matter. "Nothing yet. He's just... with us. Our insurance."

Insurance.

They'd taken my little brother. My only family.

"You bastards," I whispered, hot tears sliding down my cheeks.

Toothpick Guy bent down, his breath sour. "Don't be stupid, Amira. Your old man borrowed over a hundred grand from us. He never paid. Thought dying would get him out of it. But debts don't die with the man. They pass on."

I was shaking so hard my teeth were chattering.

"What do you want?" I choked out.

"Money," he said flatly. "By the end of the week. Or we send you his bones in a box."

He straightened up and turned toward the door like it was already decided.

"Wait!" I cried. "Please-I don't have that kind of money. I don't even have a job right now."

Toothpick Guy paused, then smiled. "Then you better find a way."

And then they were gone.

Just like that.

The silence that followed felt louder than anything else.

My body folded to the floor. My hands dug into the worn carpet. I sobbed into it, helpless. Jace. My baby brother. My whole world.

I didn't even hear the knock on the door.

When it came again-slow, hard, deliberate-I stood, eyes swollen, and opened it with a broken kind of strength.

He stood there like he owned the city.

An older man, tall, straight-backed, dressed in the kind of suit that cost more than this entire apartment complex. Silver hair. Sharp blue eyes. Cold like steel.

"Amira Wynters?" he asked, voice deep and commanding.

I nodded, confused.

He stepped in without waiting for an invitation. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the chipped paint, the secondhand furniture, the raw panic still lingering in the air.

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to sound braver than I felt.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took a small card from his coat pocket and placed it gently on the coffee table.

Vincent Devereux

The name hit me like a slap. I had even heard of the Devereux empire. The man standing in my living room was one of the most feared and respected businessmen in the country.

"I came here," he said calmly, "because of your father."

My stomach dropped.

He sat down like he belonged there. "Your father embezzled money from my company years ago. Millions.

Disappeared before we could recover it. We found out too late-he had diverted the funds through fake accounts. He was a clever man."

I stood frozen. "No... you're lying."

His eyes narrowed. "I never lie, Miss Amira."

My legs gave out, and I sat across from him, gripping my knees. My head was spinning.

"He... he never told me-"

"Of course he didn't. Men like your father rarely do." He leaned forward. "But that money, Amira, is still owed. By law, you and your brother are not responsible. But I'm not here for the law."

My heart pounded.

"Then why are you here?" I asked, whispering.

His smile was thin. Calculated.

"Because I'm offering you a way out."

I didn't breathe.

"You're in debt. Your brother has been taken. You don't have options."

"How do you know about-"

"I know everything," he cut in.

I swallowed hard.

"I need you to enter a contract marriage with my grandson," he said bluntly.

Silence.

I stared at him, waiting for the punchline.

It didn't come.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely audible.

"A marriage. Just for one year. Nothing more. In return, you will receive five million dollars. Enough to pay off every debt you've ever known and secure a future for your brother."

Five million dollars.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why would you want that?"

His eyes were sharp. "Because my grandson, Lucien, has twenty-eight days to get married or lose control of the company he inherited. He

doesn't care for love. He only needs someone to stand beside him, wear a ring, smile for the cameras, and disappear when the contract ends."

I was stunned.

A contract wife?

He stood. Adjusted his cufflinks.

"You'll be well taken care of. In public, you'll be the perfect wife. Behind closed doors, your life is your own. But you must stay married for a full year. Divorce any earlier, and the deal is off."

My lips trembled. "And if I say no?"

He looked at me like I'd asked a foolish question.

"Then your brother dies. And you live in debt for the rest of your life."

The door opened.

He started to leave, then paused.

"I'll give you twenty-four hours."

And then he was gone.

I sat there, stunned, the sound of his footsteps fading into the night.

My eyes drifted to the business card on the table.

Vincent Devereux.

I didn't know what to think. What to feel. Everything inside me was screaming. But all I could see was Jace. Alone. Afraid. Taken. And all I had to do to save him... was marry a stranger.

Not for love.

Not for forever.

Just for one year.

I wiped my face with the back of my hand. And I realized, as the tears dried, I didn't have a choice.

Because when life rips everything away from you-when all you have left is survival-you learn to do the unthinkable.

For the people you love.