Signed to Mr. Billionaire

I couldn't cry when my landlord slid a sudden eviction notice under my door. I felt sick in my stomach as tears burned at the back of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Could hardly hold them back, but somehow I did.

But on a second thought , I shouldn't have. I should have rolled up on the floor of my tiny apartment, screaming at the unfairness of life. But I didn't have the luxury of breaking down, not when my Dad was lying in a hospital bed, his medical bills piling up faster than I could count.

I really wanted to cry, but remembered it was not going to change or pay the bills, so, instead of crying, I did the only thing I thought would be best I could do, I grabbed my apron and dragged myself to work.

It was not the life I had dreamed of. For a very long time, I had wanted to be a writer, not just a regular writer, but a well-known writer in the world. A big dream, yeah? Well, I know too well, but still wanting to write stories that would make people feel something, I mean something different and deep, more like a connection to every word I write, and emotions they can't help but feel. I have two dreams, though, but will keep the other anonymous for now. It's the biggest dream which I call an impossible, crazy dream. I realized dreams don't pay rent. Dreams don't stop you from facing the embarrassment of not being able to pay your bills, just like it doesn't stop landlords from knocking on your door and demanding money you don't have.

The coffee shop was hell that morning.

The line stretched to the door, the espresso machine was making a sound I was pretty sure it meant it was dying, and the broken register beeped in distress every time we tried to process an order.

And my manager was already on my case for being five minutes late.

"You're late," my manager, Leonard, snapped angrily as I quickly tied my apron.

"Five minutes," I shot back.

"Five minutes closer to getting fired."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a notepad. Like I could afford to lose this job.

Then he walked in.

The shift in the room was subtle at first. A few people straightened, whispers bouncing around like a secret too good to keep. Alexander Pierce.

I didn't recognize him at first, not by name, at least. But could at least acknowledge his type. Expensive suit, sharp jawline, the kind of presence that sucked the air out of a room. Power clung to him like a second skin, and people moved out of his way without him asking.

I barely spared him a glance as I slammed a cup onto the counter and called out, "Double espresso for Mr. Too Important To Stand In Line."

Laughter rippled through the shop.

Alexander Pierce didn't laugh.

Instead, gently stepped forward, his steel-gray eyes locking onto mine.

"You have quite the mouth on you," Alexander murmured calmly, his voice smooth like whiskey.

"And you have quite the ego," I shot back.

His gaze held mine for a moment longer, indistinct and intense. Then, surprisingly, he smirked.

That should have just been the end of it. A random encounter with a rich stranger. But surprisingly, two days later, I found his business card tucked into my tip jar, along with a note.

Call me. I have an offer.

I didn't call.

Not right away.

But when my dad's hospital bill came in, which left me in a serious state of confusion, just then my landlord knocked again with a final notice, and desperation sank its claws into me.

And suddenly, I had no choice.

Sitting outside my dad's hospital room, I twirled Alexander Pierce's business card between my fingers.

I shouldn't have been considering this. Whatever "offer" he had, it couldn't be good.

But eight hundred thousand dollars.

That was the number on the bill in my lap. That was the amount I owed, how much I didn't have.

Call him.

I thought for a few seconds, still contemplating, but it was as if my hands had a mind of their own. Cause before I could talk myself out of it, I took my phone and dialed the number on the card.

He answered on the first ring.

"I was wondering when you'd call." His voice was as smooth as I remembered.

I clenched my jaws. "You said you had an offer for me," I said calmly.

A pause. Then, "Meet me tomorrow. 9 AM. Pierce Enterprises."

But I just had this feeling I was making a deal with the devil.

But I know too well my instincts are correct.

But at this point, I had no other choice.

I could barely sleep that night.

But when I arrived at Alexander's company Pierce Enterprises, I felt my stomach was in knots. Forty-two stories of glass and power, just then I got a quick yet immediate reminder that I was stepping into a world I didn't belong in.

My fingers were tightened around the strap of my purse, as I took a resounding breath. I stepped in, The receptionist barely looked at me before directing me to the top floor. As the elevator mounted I felt my heart pounding very fast, my reflection staring back at me in the polished walls. I had dressed as best as I could, blue jeans, and a nice fitted blazer I'd found in a thrift store, knowing it couldn't be compared to the wealth and luxury surrounding me, I felt out of place. As the numbers on the panel blinked higher, my pulse climbed with them. The space felt too small, the air too thick.

When the elevator doors slid open, Alexander Pierce was waiting.

"Eleanor Jett," he said smoothly, his eyes flickering over me in quiet assessment. " Hmm, You're punctual."

I lifted my chin. "And you're cryptic. What's this offer?"

He gestured toward the sleek, modern office behind him. "Let's talk inside."

I hesitated, but then I thought of my dad, the machines keeping him alive, the bills I couldn't pay, and followed him in.

His office turned out to be exactly what I had pictured. Cold, expensive, and impersonal. Floor-to-ceiling windows all showcased a beautiful breathtaking view of the city, but the man sitting in front of me? He was more unreadable than the skyline.

"I need a wife," Alexander said, looking directly at me.

I blinked in surprise ."Excuse me?"

He laced his fingers together. "A wife. A legal marriage. One year and three months ."

While trying to process what he just said, laughter bubbled up before I could stop it. "Is this a joke?"

"Do I look like a man who jokes?"

No. He didn't.

That I know too well and could tell, the look on his face alone says it all.

I folded my arms. "And why, exactly, do you need a wife?"

His expression didn't change. "I need to secure a business deal with a traditional investor. He values stability and family. Without a wife, I risk losing a multi-billion dollar partnership."

I stared at him. He couldn't be serious.

"I'll pay you, of course." His voice was casual like we were discussing a business transaction, not marriage.

My stomach twisted. "You think I'm that desperate?"

His eyes flickered, just for a second. "Aren't you?"

Silence stretched between us. He knew. Somehow, he knew about my struggles.

"How much?" I asked quietly.

He slid a folder across the desk. A contract.

I flipped through it, my hands trembling. Fifteen months. No intimacy is required. Eight hundred thousand dollars.

Eight Hundred Thousand Dollars.

It wasn't just money, to me it was freedom. It was a way out.

But at what cost?

I swallowed hard. "One year and three months ?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "We play the part in public. No strings attached. At the end of the contract, we go our separate ways."

I should have said no.

But saying no meant walking away from the one chance I had to save my dad.

Briefly remembering the fact that I have to do this to keep my dad alive broke my heart.

I exhaled sharply. "I need time to think."

Alex nodded. " Well, you have twenty-four hours."

And just like that, I walked out of his office with my entire world tilted on its axis.

I couldn't sleep.

I tossed and turned all through the night, my brain thinking through every possible consequence of the contract I signed. Marrying a man I barely knew? Living with him for a year and three months? Pretending to be his devoted loving wife?

A part of me screamed NO.

But the other desperate part of me, the part that had been struggling to survive ever since my mom walked out leaving my disabled dad and I, the part that spent every spare penny on hospital bills knew there wasn't a choice.

Eight hundred thousand dollars.

It was not just any money to me it was more money than I'd ever seen in my life. It would pay off my dad's bills, and other bills I need to sort out. Cover rent for years. Give me the kind of financial stability I'd only ever dreamed of.

So when the sun rose, leaving its reflection on my tiny apartment in a faint gold light, I sat on my bed quietly, staring at the contract in my hands.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I already got dressed, took hold of my bag, and walked out the door.

Pierce Enterprises was just as intimidating the second time around.

I stepped out of the elevator heading to the top floor, my heart pounding not from excitement. Not from anticipation. From pain as I made my way to Alexander's office. The receptionist barely looked at me before buzzing me in.

Immediately I stepped inside, Alex looked up from his desk.

He was dressed in another nice properly tailored suit, his dark hair slightly tousled, like he would run his fingers through it one too many times. But his expression? Completely indecipherable.

"You're back," he said, calmly.

I breathed out slowly, stepping forward until I was standing across from his desk. This was it.

Without saying a word, I slid the contract onto the desk.

His gaze flickered to the signed pages before meeting mine again. Something shifted in his eyes that I noticed, but it was something indecipherable.

"You're very sure about this?" he asked, voice lower than before.

I lifted my chin. "No. But I don't have a choice." I said as I felt sadness pierce my heart as I swallowed hard.

Knowing fully well it won't be an easy task.

Silence.

Then, he nodded, reaching for the contract. "We'll go to City Hall tomorrow to make it official. I'll have my assistant prepare everything you need."

That was it. No grand speech, no hesitation.

Just cold, calculated efficiency.

Alexander Pierce was a man who got all that he

wanted. And presently, what he wanted was me.

I sat across from Alexander Pierce in his cool modern office, the contract lying between us like a ticking bomb patiently waiting to explode.

It was just paper and ink, but the weight of it alone pressed against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Take your time," Alexander said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me, was not looking but I could feel it."Read through everything carefully before you sign."

I wanted to snap at him. As if I had a choice. Like I hadn't spent the entire night weighing my options, knowing damn well that without this, my father's hospital bills would bury me alive.

Instead, I swallowed hard and picked up the contract.

Fifteen months.

No intimacy is required.

Public appearances together.

Confidentiality clause no talking to the press.

Eight hundred thousand dollars, paid in monthly installments.

It was straightforward. A business transaction. Nothing more.

Then I saw the last clause.

"If I'm the process that either party fails to uphold the agreement, the contract will be declared voided, and no payment will be made."

I looked up sharply. "What does this mean?"

Alexander sighed. "It means if you don't hold up your end if you break the agreement, if you expose anything to the media, if you back out before the agreed time is over, you walk away with nothing."

Just hearing this made a chill run down my spine. "And what about you?"

His lips curved slightly, but there was no sign of warmth in his smile. "If I break the contract, you still get the full documented amount you're to receive."

I frowned. "But, Why?"

His expression didn't change. "Because I don't fail, Eleanor."

The way he said my name made me feel some kind of way more like a shiver running fast down my spine.

I exhaled loudly, grabbing the pen in my hand.

This was it. No turning back.

I pressed the pen to the paper

BANG!

The door to Alexander's office was forced open so violently that they nearly slammed into the walls.

A woman suddenly barged into his office so quickly, like she was chasing after someone, or rather was being chased. Her heels clicked snappily against the marble floor. Tall, elegant, and furious, her kind of beauty is rare, I mean her beauty speaks. She had the kind of beauty that makes you feel less significant just by standing next to her.

"Alex, you've got to be kidding me," she exclaimed, shunning my presence completely.

Alexander sighed, not looking too surprised like he had been expecting this.

"Daisy now is not the time."

Daisy? The name sent off a distant alarm in my brain.

Then I remembered. Daisy Harrison. CEO of Noir Monarch Media. The woman the tabloids swore Alexander was to get married to.

Oh.

This is now getting interesting.

Daisy turned to me, her sharp intense green eyes skimming me in open judgment. I suddenly felt so tiny in my low-grade thrift-store blazer and discount shoes.

"Wait a minute, is this the woman you're getting married to?" she questioned, "Oh my days this is so unbelievable" she added, looking so surprised as she

crossed her arms. "You've got to be joking."

Alexander's expression didn't change. "I don't think I owe you any explanation at all."

"You definitely do because right now you're making the biggest mistake of your life!" Daisy's voice rose, her anger filling the room. "Do you have an idea of what this will do to your reputation, I mean not just you but your family. To me, and my own family?"

Something ugly twisted in my chest.

This wasn't about love. This was about business, power, and image.

"Daisy, Alexander said, his voice carrying an edge of finality. "I suggest you leave."

Daisy let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "Oh, I see how it is, or rather what this is all about." For a few seconds I was scared she read the room and knew what I and Alexander were up to. She turned back and faced me, her gaze burning into mine. "This is about your father, isn't it? So you mean you don't need him, that you can make your own damn choices."

Father?

I blinked, my eyes darting between the two of them. There was history here.

Alex's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. "Daisy, leave. Now."

She stared at Alexander for a few seconds. She then threatened, shaking her head.

"This isn't over, Alex," she said, making it sound like a warning. I mean more like a "watch your back" kind of warning. She turned on her heel and stalked out.

The quietness she left behind was a dense one, heavy with lots of unsaid things.

I cleared my throat. "Well. That was dramatic."

Alex didn't answer. He just stared at the contract on the desk, his jaw set, his eyes darker than before.

"Are you still signing?" he asked finally.

There was just Something about the way he said it that made my stomach twist.

I should have left. I should have taken Daisy's outburst as a warning and excuse, and just walked away quietly.

But I didn't.

I picked up the pen. And I signed.

Alexander reached out for the contract, he flipped through the pages with a sharp gaze. His movements were precise, controlling just like him.

"It's done," I muttered to myself.

Alexander nodded, setting the contract aside. "We'll get the legal paperwork processed by tomorrow. My assistant will handle the marriage license. Once it's official, you'll move into my penthouse."

I stiffened. "Move in with you?"

"Obviously," he said smoothly. "Married couples live together. If you stay in your apartment, it raises suspicion."

I swallowed hard. My tiny apartment was the last piece of my independence. Moving in with him meant stepping into his world of wealth, power, and cold efficiency.

"And my job?" I asked.

"You won't need it."

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Listen, You're my wife now, at least to the public," he said, raising his voice slightly. He wasn't even angry but the way his voice echoed reminded me of my ex, a man who'd call you "love" one moment and threaten to leave you the next.

He used to help with all my bills; Rent, food. Anything that needs to be sorted with money but it all came with a price.

And the price? My sanity.

"Being known to be my wife, would make people question you if you keep working at a café," Alexander said, making an effort to explain.

"But my job pays my bills," I said as I clenched my jaw.

Alexanders' gaze darkened. "Your bills are no longer your concern."

His words hung heavy between us.

I inhaled sharply. "I don't want to be known as some spoiled trophy wife."

He arched his brow. "You think I'd marry someone weak enough to be a trophy?"

I blinked. I think that was an indirect compliment if I'm not mistaken right?

He didn't give a reply to my question, as he leaned forward, resting his hands on the desk. "Keep your job if you insist, but just get yourself prepared because the media would tear you apart. They won't understand why 'Mrs. Pierce' is making coffee for strangers."

I hesitated. The media. The scrutiny.

"Fine," I muttered. "I'll think about it."

He studied me before nodding. "Good."

Silence stretched between us.

"What else do I need to know?" I asked.

Just then Alexander brought out a small velvet box from his desk drawer and slid it toward me.

"A ring?"

"You'll wear it at all times in public," he said. "We'll attend social events together. If anyone asks, we met at a gala a year ago and fell in love."

I snorted. "Believable."

"People tend to always believe what they want to believe."

Before I opened the box I hesitated for a second, then flipped the box open.

I couldn't believe what was Inside the box, it was a stunning diamond ring. The stone caught the light, sending tiny reflections across the desk.

I exhaled sharply. "This is insane."

I could tell this was worth a fortune, didn't say that out loud.

Alexander smirked. "It's a contract marriage, Eleanor. It's supposed to be insane."