“Mia, do you even know what you're risking here? This isn’t just some casual mistake!”
My voice echoed sharply across the quiet design studio, bouncing off the cold, modern walls that had witnessed years of late nights and breakthroughs. Now, it seemed, they’d witness betrayal too.
Mia, my best friend—no, former best friend—stood frozen, clutching a stack of papers as if they might shield her from the fury blazing in my chest.
The sketches in her hands weren’t just random scribbles.
They were my work, my masterpiece—a collection I had spent months perfecting for our biggest client yet, Steele Enterprises. A contract with them meant financial security for our studio. Without it? Utter ruin.
“Olivia, it’s not what you think—” Her voice cracked, but I wasn’t buying it.
“Don’t. Lie. To me.”
My words came out like jagged glass, cutting through her excuses before they could take shape. Mia didn’t flinch. Instead, she tightened her grip on the papers, her knuckles white against the delicate black lines I had painstakingly drawn.
“You don’t understand! Steele Enterprises—it’s not as clean as you think. They were never going to let you have the credit!”
My breath hitched, but I refused to let her see the doubt creeping in.
“And what, you thought you’d save me by stabbing me in the back?!”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she shoved the papers into her bag and stormed past me toward the exit. My heart thundered in my chest as I blocked her path.
“You walk out that door, and it’s over. Everything.”
She paused, her hand on the handle.
For a moment, I thought she might reconsider. But then she looked at me with something I couldn’t quite place—regret? Defiance? And then she was gone, leaving me alone with the suffocating weight of what she'd just done.
The reality hit me in waves. Mia wasn’t just betraying me—she was jeopardizing everything I’d worked for. My reputation, my studio, my future. And if Steele Enterprises thought for a second that I was complicit in this mess…
“Olivia Lancaster, the fraud,” I muttered bitterly, imagining the headlines.
The sharp buzz of my phone snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. The screen lit up with an unknown number. With trembling fingers, I answered.
“Ms. Lancaster, this is Alexander Steele.”
His voice was smooth, clipped, and utterly devoid of warmth. The kind of voice that could make or break empires—and tonight, it sounded like mine was on the chopping block.
“Mr. Steele, I can explain—”
“Save it. We’ll discuss this in person.”
The line went dead before I could respond. My pulse pounded as I stared at the screen. This wasn’t just about salvaging a deal anymore. This was survival.
“Mia, you don’t get to win this,” I whispered to the empty room.
Hours later, as I stepped into the opulent dining room of The Royal Grand, I was greeted by the man himself—Alexander Steele. Tall, imposing, with eyes as cold and calculating as the city skyline behind him. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.
“Sit.”
I obeyed, my legs barely holding me up. He studied me for a moment, his piercing gaze slicing through my carefully crafted composure. Then, with an air of finality, he leaned forward and said the words that would change everything.
“Marry me, Olivia. I’ll save your career.”
The words hung in the air, suffocating and surreal. My brain stuttered, grasping for logic, for a reason, but I found none. “Excuse me?” I finally managed to choke out, the disbelief clear in my voice.
Alexander leaned back in his chair, his sharp features cast in shadow by the dim lighting. He looked every bit the untouchable corporate titan that he was, and for a brief moment, I felt like a pawn in a game far beyond my understanding.
“This isn’t a joke,” he said flatly. “You’re in trouble, Ms. Lancaster. Your studio is teetering on the edge of collapse. The scandal with your partner has put your reputation into question. Marrying me would solve both our problems.”
“Both?” I echoed, my voice rising. “What exactly are you gaining from this, Mr. Steele?”
His lips twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.”
I crossed my arms, trying to steady myself. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to agree to this. I barely know you!”
“You don’t have to know me,” he said coolly. “You just have to play the part. Publicly, we’ll be the perfect couple. Privately, it’s a business arrangement. You get the funding to save your studio, and I get what I need.”
“And what is it that you need, exactly?” I asked, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay composed.
He leaned forward, his gaze pinning me in place. “Loyalty. Discretion. And someone who knows how to keep up appearances.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Think about it, Ms. Lancaster. The alternative is losing everything you’ve worked for. And trust me, Steele Enterprises doesn’t forget betrayal.”
The weight of his words settled over me like a storm cloud. I wanted to scream, to tell him to go to hell, but the truth was, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Mia’s betrayal had left me vulnerable, and the studio was hanging by a thread. If I refused his proposal, I’d be walking away from the only chance I had to salvage what little was left of my career.
But agreeing to this? To marry a man I barely knew, to become a pawn in whatever game he was playing? It felt like a deal with the devil.
“I need time to think,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
“You have until tomorrow,” he replied, rising from his seat. “Don’t take too long. The world doesn’t wait for indecision.”
As he walked away, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor, I felt the full weight of what he’d just offered—and what it would mean if I said yes.
When I returned to the studio that night, the emptiness felt suffocating. The sketches on my desk, the projects that had once filled me with pride, now felt like hollow reminders of a dream that was slipping through my fingers.
I replayed Alexander’s words in my mind, over and over, until they felt like a chant. “Marry me, Olivia. I’ll save your career.”
Was I really considering it? Could I stoop that low, compromise that much of myself, just to keep the studio afloat? My reflection in the glass window seemed to mock me, the dark city skyline a stark contrast to the bright future I had once envisioned.
But as the hours ticked by, one thing became painfully clear: I didn’t have a choice.
By the time the sun rose, I had made my decision.
