el
My hands, usually alive with the chaos of charcoal dust or vibrant paint, lay clasped in my lap, clammy and useless. The borrowed designer dress felt li
g Tower. There, I would trade my freedom, my dreams of an art studio filled with light and laughter, for a signature on a contract. A contract
Sterling's domain. A cold shiver traced a path down my spine. He was the city's elusive billionaire, a man whose name conjured
hinery. A man in a tailored suit, his face impassive, opened my door. "Miss Hayes. Mr. Sterling is expecting you." His polite
on. I followed him to a private elevator. Its sleek interior of brushed chrome and dark wood felt like a gilded cage. As the doors slid shut, myl jargon had blurred into an intimidating mess. Marriage of convenience. No romantic expectations. Public appearances required. Specific duration. It was a cold transaction. My freedom fo
a woman with perfect posture and an unblinking gaze that suggested she was part of the furniture. Beyond her, floor-to-ceiling win
woman announced, her voice like polished stone.
ke? Cold, certainly. He would undoubtedly be demanding. I imagined a stern, unfeeling ma
ly tailored suit. He was impossibly tall, his broad shoulders conveying an almost intimidating power. The room was immense, sparsely furnished with dark, minimalist pieces that sp
erved strength. But in person, he was far more intense. His eyes, the color of storm clouds, swept over me, an unnerving, assessing gaze that stripped away my composure. His jaw wa
devoid of inflection. It was exactly as I
voice surprisingly steady de
ather armchair opposite
ent, every breath. Alexander took his place behind the desk, his presence filling the already vast room. He p
erms?" His question was direct,
sely, but the legal jargon had blurred into an intimidating mess. I knew the core: me, married to
rely transactional arrangement. There will be no emotional entanglement, no pretense of affection bey
as another to hear it spoken aloud, confirming my role as a commodity. "I understand," I said, my voice barely a whisper. I looked up, meeting
me. He seemed to be searching for something, a weakness, a hesita
ross the desk towards me.
us. I flinched, pulling my hand back instantly. Alexander didn't react, his face remaining impassive. But for a fle
finality of my decision, the sealing of my fate. My eyes drifted over the clauses. No personal calls unl
scent of ambition, but something warmer, a hint of old books and rain-soaked earth. It was fleeting, like a ghost of a memorypatience that contradicted his earlier briskness. For a moment, his perfect features seemed to blur, replaced by
at was that? A trick of the light? A stress-induced hallucinatio
lyn Sterling. The thought tasted like ash. I pressed the pen down, the ink bleeding slig
xan
y contracted bride. She moved with an almost ethereal grace, a stark contrast to the stiff elegance of the dress she wore.
ect. She was desperate enough to agree to my terms, yet proud enough to possess a quiet dignity. A sui
ad anticipated, almost swallowed by the plush leather. She sat on the very edge, as if ready to b
oice was level, emotionless. There was no n
ling." Her voice, surprisingly steady, held a faint tr
ional arrangement. There will be no emotional entanglement, no pretense of affection beyond wha
es, when they met mine, held a flicker of defiance. It was unexpected. Most people crumpled under my directness. She
and," she
al, but a strange jolt, like static electricity. It was fleeting, almost imperceptible. I kept my face impassive, but internally, a f
e separate living quarters and confidentiality. She was seeing her future laid
Her gaze drifted, unfocused, as if searching for something just beyond her reach. And then, for a split second, her eyes held a spark of recognition, a flicker of somethi
ation? Or was it... No. It couldn't be. I had buried t
brought the pen to the signature line. Evelyn Hayes. The name was stark against the white page. Then, Evelyn Sterling. The thought of
ding slightly. The sound was surprisin
e formed at the corner of my mouth. Satisfaction. The deal w
esk. My secretary appeared i
And ensure Miss Hayes is escorted to her new residence." My voice was crisp
secretary offered her a polite, almost sy
the visible tension in her shoulders. The door began to swing shut. Just before it closed completely, she glan
e. I walked back to the window, the city lights beginning to twinkle
ing on a quiet park bench. It was a memory I had ruthlessly suppressed for years, a ghost from a past I had sworn to forget. Why now? Why with her? Why now? Why with her? The questions spiraled in my mind, each one more insistent than the last, as if the u
, I couldn't shake the feeling that our paths had crossed before, shaped by forces beyond our control, binding us together in a way that defied logic. It was as if every choice we had made, every chance encounter, had led us to this moment, and I wondered if she felt it too. The air between us crackled with unspoken