A deal with the devil

Ava Sinclair sat in the hospital's cramped waiting area, clutching the check Damien had given her. The weight of it felt unnatural in her hands, like she was holding something forbidden.

She had never held this much money in her life.

Her fingers trembled as she stared at the numbers scrawled across the paper. It was enough to clear her mother's medical bills—enough to free them from this nightmare. Yet, the price she had paid for it haunted her.

She had sold herself for this.

A one-year contract. A loveless marriage. And a man who didn't believe in love.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor pulled her from her thoughts.

"Miss Sinclair?" The receptionist called, peering over her glasses.

Ava stood, her legs slightly wobbly, and approached the counter. She slid the check forward with a shaking hand.

The woman's eyes widened slightly as she examined it before typing something into the computer.

"This covers your mother's outstanding balance," she said, a hint of surprise in her voice. "We'll process it immediately."

Ava nodded stiffly. Relief should have flooded her, but instead, her stomach twisted painfully.

She swallowed down the guilt, forcing a small smile. "Thank you."

Without another word, she turned on her heels and made her way to her mother's room. She hesitated at the door, composing herself before pushing it open.

A Mother's Love and a Daughter's Lie

"Mom," Ava called softly, stepping inside.

Margaret Sinclair looked up from the hospital bed. Her usually warm brown eyes were tired, her face pale from weeks of illness.

"Ava, sweetheart," her mother murmured, her voice frail. "You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?"

Ava forced a chuckle. "You're the one in a hospital bed, Mom. I should be asking you that."

Margaret gave her a weak smile before her gaze fell on the small envelope in Ava's hands. "What's that?"

Ava hesitated before stepping closer, placing the envelope on the bedside table.

"The hospital bill is paid," she said, keeping her voice light.

Her mother's expression faltered. "Ava… how? You were struggling to even afford rent."

A lump formed in Ava's throat. She had rehearsed a lie on the way here, something convincing, but now, looking at her mother's worried face, it felt like a betrayal.

"I got some help," she finally said. "A loan."

"A loan?" Her mother's brows knitted in concern. "From whom?"

Ava bit her lip. "A private source."

Margaret reached for her daughter's hand, squeezing it gently. "Ava, tell me the truth."

Ava forced another smile, ignoring the burning in her throat. "Mom, please don't worry about it. Focus on getting better."

Margaret sighed but didn't push further. "I don't like this, sweetheart."

Neither do I, Mom. But I had no choice.

Ava sat with her mother for a while, talking about meaningless things to keep her distracted. But with every passing second, she felt the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest.

There was no turning back now.

Preparing for the Wedding

The following evening, Ava stood before her closet, staring at the few dresses she owned.

Damien had told her to be ready for dinner—"A formal meeting," he had said. But she knew what it really was.

The first step into her new life as his contract bride.

She picked the least worn-out dress she had—a simple black one that hugged her curves. She pulled her hair into a loose bun and took a shaky breath.

Her phone buzzed.

Damien: Be outside in five minutes.

Her heart pounded. He was never the kind of man to wait.

With one last glance in the mirror, she grabbed her purse and stepped out of her tiny apartment. A sleek black car was parked by the curb, and Damien leaned against it, checking his watch.

His sharp gray eyes flickered over her as she approached.

"You're late," he said.

Ava squared her shoulders. "By two minutes."

"Still late," he murmured before opening the car door for her.

She hesitated. This was it. The beginning of her new reality.

With a deep breath, she slid inside.

Dinner with the Devil

The restaurant Damien took her to was nothing like the small diners she was used to. The moment she stepped inside, she felt out of place.

The chandeliers cast a soft glow over crisp white tablecloths. The faint hum of polite conversations filled the air, and waiters in perfectly pressed uniforms moved with practiced elegance.

Ava swallowed hard as she followed Damien to their table.

He ordered for both of them without asking. She barely looked at the menu before setting it aside.

"You'll be fitted for a wedding dress tomorrow," he stated, sipping his wine.

Ava choked on her water. "Tomorrow?"

Damien nodded. "You're my fiancée now. The sooner this marriage happens, the better."

Ava clenched her hands under the table. "You're really treating this like a business deal, aren't you?"

Damien leaned forward, his expression unreadable. "Because that's exactly what it is, Ava."

She looked away, swallowing the bitterness in her throat. "Right."

For the rest of the dinner, Damien spoke about arrangements—where they would live, the terms of their contract, how they'd act in public.

It wasn't a wedding. It was a merger.

And she was just a pawn in his grand plan.

The Price of Her Choice

Hours later, Ava returned home, exhausted but unable to sleep.

Tomorrow, she would try on a wedding dress. In a few days, she'd marry a man who didn't love her.

All for money.

Her mother's face flashed in her mind—the relief in her eyes when Ava said the bills were paid.

This was worth it.

At least, that's what she told herself as she curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

She had one year to survive this.

One year as Damien Cole's wife.