Desperate choice

Drowning in Debt

Ava Sinclair gripped the hospital bill in her trembling hands, her heart pounding as she scanned the outrageous number.

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THOUSAND DOLLARS.

The words on the page blurred as tears stung her eyes.

This must be a mistake.

She blinked hard and read it again, but the number didn't change. The debt loomed over her, crushing the air from her lungs.

Her mother's accident had left her in critical condition, and the hospital wouldn't wait forever. The doctors had done their part—emergency surgery, blood transfusions, constant monitoring. Now it was Ava's turn to pay.

But how?

She had already maxed out her credit cards, drained her savings, and pawned every valuable possession she owned.

Her car? Gone.

Her jewelry? Sold for pennies.

Her dignity? Hanging by a thread.

She had even gone as far as begging her boss for an advance, only to be met with an apologetic shake of the head.

The sharp jingle of the diner doorbell yanked her back to reality. She shoved the bill into her apron pocket and forced a smile onto her face. One more shift. One more chance to earn something—anything.

But as she turned toward the entrance, her breath caught in her throat.

Damien Cole.

The air in the diner seemed to thicken.

Her stomach twisted into knots.

What the hell is he doing here?

An Unexpected Visitor

Damien Cole wasn't just rich, he was also a cold-hearted billionaire CEO. A man so powerful he could destroy someone's life with a single phone call. And right now, he was staring at her like he owned her. He was filthy rich—the kind of man who could buy this entire diner just to shut it down for fun.

His tailored black suit clung to his broad frame effortlessly, his piercing gray eyes scanning the room like he owned everything in it.

And right now, those eyes were locked on her.

Ava swallowed hard.

He didn't belong here. This wasn't his world.

Her fingers tightened around the notepad she had been using to take orders.

Don't panic. Just do your job.

She forced herself to approach his booth, her steps measured and careful.

"Can I get you something?" she asked, keeping her voice even.

Damien smirked. "Yes. We need to talk."

Her pulse spiked. What could he possibly want with me?

She swallowed. "I'm working."

His smirk didn't waver. If anything, it deepened.

"Not anymore."

Before she could question him, her manager rushed over, his face pale with nerves.

"Ava, you're free to go for the night," he stammered. "Mr. Cole will take care of your shift."

Ava's stomach churned. The fact that Damien had paid off her shift without hesitation made it clear—he wasn't taking no for an answer.

The Ride of No Return

Damien led her outside, where a sleek black car was parked at the curb. He didn't offer an explanation—just opened the door and waited.

Ava hesitated. This was a mistake.

But what choice did she have?

She glanced back at the diner, then at the folded hospital bill in her pocket. Desperation clawed at her chest.

With a deep breath, she slid into the car.

The leather seats were ice-cold, just like the man beside her. Damien adjusted his cufflinks with calm precision before turning his gaze on her.

"I will get straight to the point," he said smoothly. "I have a proposal for you."

Ava scoffed, crossing her arms. "A proposal?"

Damien leaned forward, his voice calm but commanding. "Marry me for one year. In exchange, I will pay you three hundred thousand dollars."

Ava's breath hitched.

Three hundred thousand?

That was enough to pay her mother's hospital bills twice over. Enough to get them out of debt. Enough to buy back the life she was losing, piece by piece.

But this was insane.

She shook her head. "Why would you ask me?"

Damien's eyes darkened. "Because I need a wife, and you need money."

His voice was clipped, businesslike. "My grandfather left a clause in his will. If I don't marry within a month, my company's board will strip me of control."

Ava's mind spun.

So this was just business.

He needed a wife. She needed money.

She could struggle for years to make that kind of money or she could sign her life away to the devil.

Her heart pounded.

"If I say yes," she asked carefully, "what's the catch?"

Damien's smirk was razor-sharp. "There's a contract, of course. No touching unless necessary. No interfering in each other's personal lives. And most importantly—" His gaze hardened. "No falling in love."

Ava's pulse thrummed in her ears.

No love. Just a contract.

It sounded cold. Impossible.

And yet..

Her mother's fragile body flashed in her mind. The debt collectors. The overwhelming weight of hopelessness pressing down on her.

She clenched her fists.

You don't have a choice.

She met Damien's gaze, swallowing her fear.

"Fine," she whispered. "I'll do it."

The Contract

Less than an hour later, Ava sat in Damien's penthouse, staring at a fifty-page contract detailing their fake marriage.

The apartment was ridiculously luxurious—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, sleek black marble counters, and a fireplace that crackled softly in the background.

Ava felt out of place. Like an imposter stepping into a world she didn't belong in.

Damien placed a pen in front of her.

"Read everything before signing," he instructed. "Once you sign, there's no turning back."

Ava's fingers trembled as she flipped through the pages.

Clause 1: The marriage will last exactly one year.

Clause 2: Ava must attend all public events as Damien's wife.

Clause 3: No romantic involvement beyond the contract.

Clause 4: Any breach of contract will result in severe financial penalties.

Her stomach twisted as she read the final clause.

No falling in love.

Her hands clenched around the pen.

"Scared?" Damien asked, watching her closely.

She lifted her chin. "No."

She signed her name at the bottom of the page, sealing her fate.

Damien's smirk deepened as he took the contract.

"Welcome to hell, Mrs. Cole."