THE BILLIONAIRE'S SECRET LEGACY

"I need the payment before the end of the week, Cassie, regardless of how you go about it. If not, we'll have to evict you"

As I gazed at the paper, shaking hands, the words became jumbled. The red lettering shouted at me, "EVICTION NOTICE." Breathing became difficult, and my heart thumped in my chest.

"Hey? Cassie? Are you still present? My world was collapsing in the present when I heard the landlord's voice crackle over the phone.

I stumbled, "I-I'm here," and tried to calm my voice. "I'll come up with something. I require further time.

Even I could see the doubt in my voice, though. More time? Time was running out.

After a little silence, he let out a sigh that sounded like the weight of the entire planet. "I apologize, but I am unable to do that. You've fallen behind by three months already.

I was terrified I would faint from the vertigo, so I buried the heels of my hands in my temples and closed my eyes. The one thing I had worked for, battled for, and loved more than anything else was the art center, and it was dying. Piece by agonizing piece, my dream was being ripped from me.

With a click, the call ended, and I stood motionless, gazing at the eviction notice as though I wanted it to disappear. However, it persisted, mocking my incapacity to correct this and teasing me with its strong lettering. I had invested all of my savings in this facility. I had used up all of my connections and favors, and now I had no other choice.

Panic creeping in, I ran my fingers through my hair. Now what? I couldn't ignore it. I was unable to. Not when artists were depending on me. Not after everything I had invested in this home. My feeling of purpose, the cornerstone of my life, was being torn away from me.

I required assistance. However, it had always felt like conceding defeat to ask for help. Furthermore, I wasn't yet prepared to give up.

"God, Cassie, get it together," I whispered as I paced the tiny apartment where I lived, feeling as though the walls were closing on me with each breath. The picture of my best friend Sophie and I laughing together at the art gala two years ago caught my attention. Sophie. She'd be aware of what to do.

Before I could question myself, I took out my phone and called her. Before she answered, the phone rang three times, and her voice was as upbeat as ever.

"Hi, Cass! What's going on?"

Her voice struck me like a kick to the stomach. I wasn't feeling well. She was also able to hear it. The weight that lingered in my voice.

"I... I must speak with you. Would you be able to visit?" Despite my best efforts, I knew she could sense the despair in my voice.

The person on the other end paused. "Obviously. At 2 pm, I'll be there.

I hung up, experiencing a surge of embarrassment. How did I allow things to progress this far? The center had served as a haven for me, a creative hub for artists without other options. I had vowed not to let them down, but now I was at a loss for what to offer. The utilities, rent, and bills all seemed excessive as if I were drowning.

I was barely able to gather myself by the time Sophie showed up. She was standing in the doorway, her typically vivacious demeanor a sharp contrast to the weight that was bearing down on me.

She murmured, "Hey, girl, you look like hell," and entered. But her eyes softened when she saw me standing in the middle of the room, holding the eviction notice like it was a lifeline.

I was at my breaking point. As I fell onto the couch and buried my face in my hands, the tears came quickly and hot.

My voice was heavy with sorrow as I murmured, "I'm losing it, Sophie." "This is not something I can do. I must maintain the center. I've put in a lot of work-" I couldn't contain my tears, which clogged my sentences.

With her hands softly removing mine from my face, Sophie knelt before me. "Cass, look at me." She spoke softly yet firmly. "The core won't be lost. Can you hear me? We'll resolve this."

But the weight of it all made me shake my head. "There is nothing else to discover. I have run out of time. I don't know where else to turn, and I don't have the money."

Sophie leaned closer, her brows furrowing as her face hardened. "You've always managed to find a way, Cass."

"You'll figure something out. You simply must swallow your pride and seek assistance."

Her comments made me shudder. I muttered, "I don't need help," but even I didn't think the words were very persuasive.

Sophie said, "Don't you dare give me that," and got to her feet. "I've witnessed you go above and beyond for everyone else. For once, let them assist you."

I remained silent. I was unable to. I felt sick to my stomach at the idea of seeking assistance. It was akin to failure. An enormous failure.

Sophie seemed to be aware of the struggle going on inside of me. "Cassie, you're not alone in this.

You don't have to work alone either. We'll sort it out together.

Trying to get the lump out of my throat, I swallowed forcefully.

"But what happens if it's too late?"

I hardly spoke above a whisper.

Sophie draped her arm around my shoulders as she sat next to me. "There is still time. You will be all right. We'll figure something out. We usually do.

In my heart, though, I wasn't sure.

The large lettering on the eviction notice mocked me as I glanced at it once more. Was this the end of it? I could feel the walls closing in and the weight of every choice pressing down on me. Every decision, every error. Every pledge I was unable to fulfill.

And I questioned whether I had failed for the first time.

Sophie gave me a shoulder squeeze. "You'll see. Things will improve. All you have to do is take the initial step. And for that reason, I am here."

However, my phone buzzed on the table beside me before I could reply. I froze when I looked down at it.

The sender name of a single message flashed across the screen, sending a chill down my spine.

"Cassie, you owe me. I'm calling in that debt now. Think of this as your final caution."

My gut clenched in knots as the words hit me like a slap in the face. I could only get a message like that from one person.

And now I didn't know how to escape this situation.

With my heart pounding, I glanced up at Sophie. "I think I'm in deeper than I thought."

"Miss Hart."

I was chilly when I heard an audible voice at the event. My heart skipped as I turned to face the man who had spoken.

His tuxedo appeared to have been built to order, and he was tall.

His angular jawline caught the light in a way that suggested power, and his dark, almost black hair fell neatly around his ears. But I wasn't anchored by his appearance. He evaluated me in a way that made it seem like he could see right through me.

"Yes?" I could do so, my voice revealing the discomfort in my chest.

Though it didn't reach his eyes, a faint smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. His eyes were fixed on me as if I were something he was still trying to figure out.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he added casually as he moved in closer. "But I've been watching you for a while now."

I scowled and took a step back out of habit. "And why is that?" I asked, attempting to remain somewhat composed.

A grin twitched over his lips, but it was icy. "Because you are unique. As though he could read my discomfort, he said, "Not just because of your beauty."

However, you bear a certain amount of weight. Maybe a burden?

The implication made my chest clench, and I blinked. How was that known to him? I hadn't disclosed my financial difficulties to anyone, much less a stranger at a gala.

However, I felt uneasy because of something in his eyes-a recognition, a knowing.

"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" I squinted as I inquired, not sure if I wanted to hear his response.

He grinned more broadly as if he liked playing the game of my doubt. "I don't think we've enjoyed ourselves." My name is Nicholas Scott," he added, as he stood up to shake my hand. "I'm certain you've heard of me."

After hesitating, I grasped his hand. Like his presence, it was firm and uncompromising. I said, "I've heard of you," but I didn't believe I had heard enough to draw any conclusions.

"Good," he remarked in a confident, silky voice. "I have been keeping up with your efforts on behalf of the center. It's quite stunning. He studied me with a small inclination of his head. "Though I understand it's not going as well as you'd hoped."

My breath caught in my throat, and I tensed up. Was he aware of the problems at the art center? My financial difficulties? How could that have happened? Sophie was the only person with whom I had discussed this, if anyone else as well. I tried to think of how he might know, but my mind was racing. Was someone observing me?

"Who told you that?" I asked sharply, attempting to maintain a steady tone.

His smile expanded, seemingly amused by my uneasiness. "Let's assume that I conduct research. It's noticeable when someone with your level of talent is ready to lose everything they've worked so hard to achieve."

I backed up a little, feeling sick to my stomach. His remarks were a bit too personal. The one thing that mattered most to me, my business, was going to fail. For months, I had been fighting to keep the art center afloat while frantically holding onto a dream that seemed to be getting farther and farther away.

Nicholas could feel my discomfort. As though we were exchanging secrets, he moved closer and spoke in a silky, low voice. "You need not be concerned. I can assist you. I can give you an escape route. A business idea that might be the answer to all of your issues.

Confused and wary, I gazed at him. "And what's the catch?"

He gave a little laugh, but it was without humor. "Miss Hart, no catch. It is just an agreement that benefits both parties. I am aware of the challenges you face. The creditors are breathing down your neck because of your debts. I can take care of all that for you."

My heart pounded. Was this thing for real? Or was he just another individual making unfulfilled claims?

I gently said, "I'm listening," not wanting to show how eager I was to hear his words.

Nicholas wasted little time. "I want to form a partnership in return for my assistance," he added. I would like to be part of your center's direction. I just throwing money at you isn't enough. I'd like to have a say in how things are managed."

As I processed what he had said, I blinked. A collaboration? Was he requesting authority? I couldn't-no, I wouldn't-let anyone take over my dream.

However, I felt like I was being choked by the pressure I was under. For me, the center was everything. It was more than just a company; it was a space where artists could express themselves and creativity could thrive. Everything would fall apart if I didn't acquire the money I required.

I said, "I'm not sure," before I could stop speaking. "I don't think I can just-"

"I understand," he broke off, his eyes sparkling with humor or possibly comprehension. "I'm not requesting that you decide right now. But Miss Hart, give it some thought.

You have two options: take advantage of my assistance or keep battling alone. I can provide you with more than just the money you require. We could transform your center into something that will endure for a very long time.

My thoughts were racing as I gazed at him. The idea seemed alluring, maybe too alluring. There was a part of me that wanted to accept his offer immediately, just to be rid of the ongoing stress and worry.

But I also shrank back when I saw Nicholas Scott wasn't merely doing a good deed. This was more than just that. Something didn't feel quite right.

"How do I know you're trustworthy?" My question was hardly audible above a whisper.

He grinned more broadly, but it felt cold. "You don't. However, I believe you'll discover that your remaining options are somewhat limited."

I felt like a fish caught in a net as I glanced around the room. In my ears, the dazzling visitors and the din of talk at the gala sounded like a faraway hum. Nicholas Scott and his offer seemed to be the only thing that mattered to me. I felt the walls closing in on me as the weight of his words weighed heavily on me.

"I'll think about it," I answered, trembling despite myself.

Nicholas stepped back, and for a split second, I thought I saw a spark of approval in his eyes. "Take as much time as you require. Nevertheless, remember that opportunities such as these are rare."

I stood alone in the middle of the ballroom as he turned around and walked away.

I was having trouble breathing. My entire being begged me to turn down his offer to preserve my morals and my goals. However, there was another part of me that whispered that this was my only option since I was so afraid of losing all I had fought so hard for.

My phone buzzed in my pocket as I was starting to collect my thoughts.

With trembling hands, I struggled to extract it. It came from an unidentified number.

Cassie, you don't have much time. Decide quickly.

My heart stopped beating. How were they aware of my name?

The feeling of being watched came over me once more as I gazed at the television.

Nicholas Scott was more than just an entrepreneur. He posed a much greater threat. I was now caught in his web.

I was no longer alone in the choices that may make or ruin me.

Once more, the message from the unidentified number flashed.

"Don't make him wait."

And for the first time, I was genuinely afraid of what would happen next.

Nicholas spoke the word "marriage," which fell between us like a grenade.

Confident that I had misheard, I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said in a cool, collected tone. "I'm suggesting a marriage contract. Naturally, it will be temporary and on terms that are advantageous to both of us."

I let out a sour, acrid laugh. "You can't be serious."

Nicholas's face, however, remained unwavering. He stayed calm, staring at me with his sharp eyes as if he were analyzing every idea that was going through my mind.

I got out of his office's velvet chair, which I hadn't even wanted to sit in.

I said, "This is absurd," as I paced in the direction of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Below, the city lights glowed, taunting me with their brightness.

"Why would I ever agree to something like that?"

Nicholas said, "Because it solves both our problems," in a level tone. His posture was as rigid as the tone of his words, and he remained seated. "You must have enough money to keep your art center open and more. I require..."

He hesitated, picking his words wisely.

"What do you need?" I turned on my heel to face him and demanded.

"A wife," was all he said.

I laughed again at the ridiculousness of it, but it sounded phony this time. "A spouse? Why? For a business transaction? To entertain the tabloids by playing house?"

Nicholas's flawless composure cracked just a little as his jaw tightened. "You shouldn't worry about it. What counts is that I will give you enough money to safeguard your art center and allow you to grow it as you see fit. You will consent to be my wife for a year in exchange. Not a bit more, not a bit less.

I felt the weight of his words descend upon me as they lingered in the atmosphere. A year. All he was requesting was that. It was a minor cost for the lifeline I sorely needed. But it made my skin crawl to think of binding myself to this cold, cunning stranger.

With my arms crossed, I yelled, "I'm not some commodity you can buy."

Unconcerned by my outburst, Nicholas reclined in his chair. "I'm not requesting that you be. This is merely a business deal. You'll keep all you value, including your freedom and art center. A few public appearances and a ring on your finger are the only things that alter.

His casual demeanor infuriated me. "Can you hear yourself at all? You're asking me to marry you as if it were a business deal. "

"It is," he expressed plainly. "And it benefits you just as much as it benefits me."

I turned away and steadied myself by holding onto the window frame's edge. As my mind raced, the view outside became blurry. This isn't possible. It must have been a weird prank. However, Nicholas's demeanor told me he was dead serious when I looked over my shoulder.

I shook my head and whispered, "You're insane."

"Perhaps," he confessed, a faint smile fluttering across his mouth. However, I'm also giving you an alternative. Are you certain that someone else will intervene and save your priceless art center?

I knew he was right, so his comments were like a kick to the belly. I had no one to save me. I could hardly keep my head above water while the center drowned.

However, getting married to Nicholas Scott? Dealing with the devil was how it felt.

"What's in this for you?" I asked, looking him in the face.

For the first time, Nicholas paused, a glimpse of something unreadable flickering across his face. "Let's just say I have my reasons."

"That's not good enough," I began, raising my voice. "If you expect me to even consider this, I need to know why you're doing it."

Then he stood, his massive body looming over the room like a great shadow. "You don't need to know," he stated in a stern and decisive tone. "You just must make a choice. Your art center will prosper if you accept the offer. If you refuse, you will lose everything.

Although it hurt, the request wasn't shocking. Offering options didn't appear to be Nicholas Scott's style.

The lump in my throat nearly choked me as I swallowed hard. When I eventually said, "I need time,"

Nicholas said, "You have twenty-four hours," without hesitation. "After that, the offer's off the table."

Twenty-Four hours. I'll have to choose one day if I'd sacrifice my freedom-or at least my soul-for my goal.

I took my coat, and walked out of his office without saying another word, the door slamming behind me.

The eviction letter was staring at me from the coffee table back in my small apartment. I buried my face in my hands and slid into the couch.

What should I have done? As ridiculous as Nicholas's offer was, so was my predicament. The bank had already turned down my loan application. My efforts to raise money had not been successful. Even the final-ditch attempt to pull off the gala had failed.

And now I found myself with no other option.

Either I lose everything I've worked for, or I marry a man I hardly knew who had his agenda.

I was surprised by the knock on the door. I didn't think anyone would show up.

Sophie was standing there looking worried and frustrated as I opened it.

She said, "I got your text," and entered without waiting for an invitation. "What the hell is going on?"

The invitation was too much for her to handle alone, so I gave it to her.

She scanned the information, her eyes widening as she read. Then, looking up at me, she replied, "You cannot be serious."

I whispered, "I am unaware of what to do," my voice cracking.

"Don't do it," Sophie firmly said. "There has to be another way."

The truth of my circumstances hung over me like a threatening fog despite my want to believe her.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table as Sophie persisted in her argument.

When I saw Nicholas's name on the screen, I took it up with a sick feeling in my stomach.

Even though the message was brief, it made me shiver.

"Miss Hart, time is running out. Make the correct decision.

And for the second time that day, I had the impression that Nicholas Scott was waiting to see if I would jump from a cliff.