Marriage Contract with the CEO

The government office smelled faintly of printer ink, paper, and old coffee. Harsh fluorescent lights buzzed above, casting a pale, sterile glow over the dull gray walls and plastic chairs. Cecilia Brooks sat stiffly outside the Human Resources Department, her fingers tightening around the worn strap of her handbag.

She had a bad feeling. The kind that settled deep in your gut and refused to let go.

"Miss Brooks?" a voice called from the doorway.

She stood, smoothing the front of her navy blouse, and stepped into the office.

Behind the desk sat Ms. Patricia Walker, HR Director of the State Administrative Office. Her glasses were perched low on her nose, lips pressed into a thin line. She didn't invite Cecilia to sit.

"This won't take long," she said, sliding a manila folder across the desk. "Due to budget cuts and restructuring, your position has been eliminated. Effective immediately."

Cecilia blinked. "Wait-what? I've worked here for five years. My performance reviews have always been above average."

Ms. Walker gave a tight smile. "It's not a performance issue. The department's downsizing. Unfortunately, several positions-including yours-were deemed nonessential."

Cecilia's stomach dropped. "I was a senior administrative assistant. I handled case scheduling, correspondence, records-how is that nonessential?"

The HR director shrugged with the indifference of someone who had said this a hundred times before. "Your severance will be processed in two weeks. Please sign here to acknowledge termination."

Cecilia stared at the paper.

She had spoken out at a staff meeting last month about irregular spending in the travel budget. She hadn't accused anyone-she'd simply asked questions. Clearly, someone hadn't appreciated it.

Her hand trembled slightly as she picked up the pen and signed.

---

The walk out of the building felt like a slow unraveling. People who once shared coffee breaks with her avoided her eyes, now absorbed in their computer screens or suddenly busy on calls.

No one asked what happened.

Outside, the heat hit her like a wall. Midday sun glared off the sidewalks of downtown Atlanta, and cars zipped past the government plaza.

She moved on autopilot, crossing the street and heading toward the bus stop. Her mind was racing.

$1,350 due for rent in five days.

$210 in unpaid utility bills.

$58.17 left in her checking account.

Her phone buzzed. A text from her landlord: "Last warning. No late payments this month."

Her throat tightened. She hadn't cried yet, but her eyes burned. Not here. Not in public.

She walked a few blocks in silence, but her low heels began pinching her feet. She slipped them off and continued barefoot, hugging her purse to her side.

At the corner, she passed a food truck with the smell of grilled cheese and garlic fries wafting into the air. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since morning coffee.

She kept walking.

She didn't have money for snacks. She barely had money for the bus.

How had her life unraveled so quickly? A month ago, she had stability. A government paycheck, modest but dependable. Now it felt like she was dangling by a thread.

At the next intersection, she stopped and waited for the pedestrian light to change. Her gaze drifted across the street as cars passed in steady waves.

She could apply for private sector jobs, but those took time. Maybe a temp agency would have something. Maybe her sister could lend her enough to get through next week. Or maybe-

HOOOOOONK!

The blare of a car horn tore through her thoughts.

She had stepped into the street without realizing the light was still red.

A sleek black car turned the corner at full speed. The driver slammed the brakes, tires shrieking, the vehicle skidding across the asphalt.

Cecilia froze.

Everything slowed.

Her eyes met the driver's-dark, sharp, and wide with alarm.

Then, impact.

Not full-force. The car clipped her left side, sending her tumbling to the ground. Pain shot through her elbow as she hit the pavement, her purse spilling open beside her.

Gasps rippled through nearby pedestrians.

The car door flew open.

A man in a tailored charcoal suit stepped out, all urgency and control. He was tall, well-built, and far too good-looking for a moment like this. His black hair was perfectly styled, and even in chaos, he looked like he belonged on a GQ cover.

He knelt beside her. "Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?"

Cecilia tried to sit up, wincing. "I think-I think I'm okay."

"Don't move yet." His tone was firm but calm. "You could be injured."

"I'm fine. Really. Just a scratch." She sat up despite the protest in her joints.

His eyes scanned her for signs of distress. "You should go to the hospital."

"No," she said quickly. "I don't need one. I'm not hurt that bad."

He clearly didn't believe her. "I hit you with my car."

"I walked into the street without looking. I'm not going to sue you."

He blinked, caught off guard. "You're... not?"

"Life's already kicked me enough today. I don't need a lawsuit."

His mouth quirked slightly, like he didn't know whether to be relieved or suspicious.

She finally took a good look at him and frowned.

"Wait... I know you."

"Probably," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I'm Leo Hartford."

Her jaw dropped.

Leo Hartford. CEO of Hartford Enterprises. Billionaire tech mogul. Reclusive, brilliant, and chronically featured in business magazines and social media gossip pages. The kind of man who could tank a stock just by raising an eyebrow.

And now... he'd hit her with his car.

Of course.

She let out a hollow laugh. "Well, I guess the universe has a sense of humor."

He studied her for a moment. "You really don't want to go to the hospital?"

"I'm just bruised, I promise."

But even as she said it, she noticed someone across the street holding up a phone-click.

Her eyes widened. "Paparazzi?"

Leo turned just as a second flash went off.

"Damn it."

More people began crowding closer.

"We need to go," he said, helping her gather her things. "Come on. Before this turns into a headline."