Resignation Letter

Evelyn Carter had lost count of how many times she had told herself that today would be the day she quit.

Yet, here she was—once again—standing in front of Damian Lancaster's office, gripping the resignation letter in her hands like a lifeline.

The sleek, modern space radiated power, just like the man inside. Behind the massive glass walls, Damian sat at his desk, flipping through documents with an air of disinterest. Tall, imposing, and effortlessly handsome, he had the kind of presence that made entire boardrooms fall silent.

Not her, though.

Steeling herself, Evelyn knocked once before stepping inside.

"Mr. Lancaster, I need to talk."

Damian didn't bother looking up. "Talk while I work."

She clenched her jaw. He was always like this—distracted, detached, as if everyone else's time belonged to him.

"This isn't something I can say while you're signing papers," she said, dropping the crisp envelope onto his desk. "I'm resigning."

That got his attention. The pen in his hand stilled, and for the first time in the conversation, his piercing blue eyes flicked up to meet hers. A slow, assessing glance.

Then, calmly—as if she'd told him she was switching coffee brands—he said, "No."

Evelyn blinked. "Excuse me?"

"No." He pushed the letter back toward her without reading it. "You're not quitting."

She exhaled sharply. "Damian, you don't get to decide that. I've made up my mind."

He leaned back, studying her. His silence stretched long enough to make her uneasy.

Then, he spoke. "Sit."

Against her better judgment, she did.

Damian laced his fingers together, his expression unreadable. "Why do you want to quit?"

She let out a short, humorless laugh. "Because this job is exhausting. You're exhausting. And—"

"How much do you need?"

Evelyn stiffened. "What?"

His voice remained cool. "You're quitting for financial reasons, aren't you? Your brother's medical bills. The debt. I know everything."

Her stomach twisted. She hated that he knew. Hated that he was right.

"This isn't about money," she said through gritted teeth.

"Everything is about money."

She was about to argue when he continued, "If you really want to leave, I have a counteroffer."

Her pulse quickened. "What kind of counteroffer?"

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze locking onto hers. Then, in the same smooth, controlled tone he used in business meetings, he said—

"Marry me."

Evelyn's breath hitched. "What?"

His expression didn't waver. "I need a wife, and you need financial stability. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

She stared at him, waiting for the punchline. "You can't be serious."

"I don't make jokes in business."

A dry laugh escaped her lips. "Marriage isn't business."

Damian arched a brow. "In my world, it is."

Evelyn shook her head. "Why me?" You have a line of women who would marry you in a heartbeat."

"Exactly. They would marry me." He held her gaze. "I need someone who won't."

The weight of his words settled between them.

This wasn't about love.

It was about convenience.

"You're insane," she whispered.

Damian didn't deny it.

"Think about it, Evelyn." His voice was softer now, almost persuasive. "You walk away from this job, you walk away from the stability it gives you. But if you stay—if you agree—you'll never have to worry about money again."

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. "And in return?"

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "In return, you become my wife."

Evelyn's world tilted as the weight of his offer crashed down on her.

Marriage.

To him?

Her breathtakingly beautiful features—a delicate blend of sharp intelligence and soft femininity—reflected a storm of emotions. Her large, expressive hazel eyes flickered between disbelief and fury, her perfectly arched brows knitting together as she tried to process the absurdity of the situation.

Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wasn't just his secretary—she was the woman who had spent the last three years resisting the urge to throw her phone at the wall every time he called her after hours. The woman who had silently cursed his arrogance, his ruthless efficiency, the way he demanded perfection without so much as a please or thank you.

And now he wanted her to marry him?

The very idea sent a ripple of unease through her, yet she couldn't ignore the small, treacherous part of her that wavered.

She was a beautiful woman with options, but none of them offered what Damian did—security, stability, a way out of the constant financial strain that had weighed on her shoulders since her parents died.

The idea of walking away felt like drowning in an ocean of uncertainty.

But agreeing? That would mean giving up the idea of love.

Of real love.

Her chest tightened at the thought.

There was a time she had believed in romance—in whispered confessions, stolen kisses, and the kind of love that made your heart race.

Now, she was staring at a man who didn't believe in any of it.

Damian Lancaster wasn't a man who loved.

He was a man who owned.

And if she agreed to this deal, she would belong to him.

She swallowed, her voice quieter this time. "What do you get out of this?"

He exhaled as if he had been waiting for her to ask.

"A wife makes me untouchable," he said simply. "It keeps the board off my back, prevents my competitors from sniffing around for weaknesses. Marriage is stability, and stability is power."

Evelyn wanted to tell him that marriage wasn't a business strategy.

But in his world, it was.

He watched her, waiting, as if he already knew she would say yes.

Because he knew her better than she liked to admit.

He knew she wouldn't let her brother suffer. He knew she was too practical to turn down an opportunity that could change her life.

Evelyn hated that he was right.

Her gaze dropped to the letter she had brought in, the one she had been so certain she would hand in today.

Now, it felt irrelevant.

"Take your time," Damian said smoothly. "But you and I both know how this ends."

Evelyn lifted her head, her lips pressing into a thin line.

She knew, too.

And that terrified her.

---

Evelyn stormed out of Damian's office, her heart pounding as she clutched the resignation letter in her trembling hands. The moment she stepped into the hallway, the weight of his proposal pressed down on her like a vice.

Marry him? The idea was absurd. Insulting.

She wasn't some business acquisition to be negotiated over a contract. Yet, no matter how much she tried to push the thought away, his words lingered. "You and I both know how this ends." Damn him for being so sure of himself. Damn him for knowing her weakness.

She told herself she wouldn't look back, that she would find another way, but as she reached the elevator, the cold reality of her situation hit her—without this job, without his offer, she had no way to save her brother. And that realization haunted her more than the idea of becoming Damian Lancaster's wife.