The room felt smaller than it had moments ago.
Amara stared at the folder on the table, her fingers resting lightly on its edge, as if touching too firmly might make the contents explode. A marriage contract. The words echoed in her mind, absurd and unreal.
She looked up at Ethan Blackwood.
He sat across from her, composed, his expression calm in a way that felt almost cruel.
This wasn't a joke to him. He hadn't said it lightly. He meant it.
"You can't be serious," Amara said again, her voice lower now, steadier. "You fire me, accuse me of something I didn't do, and then invite me back here to ask me to marry you?"
"I didn't ask you to marry me," Ethan corrected evenly. "I offered you a contract."
"That's not better."
James cleared his throat awkwardly from his seat beside Ethan. "Ms. Collins, this is not…conventional. But it is legal. And voluntary."
Amara let out a short, humorless laugh.
"Voluntary? You fired me yesterday."
Ethan's gaze didn't waver. "And I'm offering you financial security today."
The words landed exactly where he intended them to.
Amara's jaw tightened.
"You don't get to do that," she said. "You don't get to ruin my life and then act like this is some kind of favor."
Ethan folded his hands together on the table. "I didn't ruin your life. And this is not about kindness."
"Then what is it about?"
For the first time since she'd entered the room, Ethan hesitated.
"Public perception," he said finally. "And timing."
Amara narrowed her eyes. "Explain."
Ethan nodded once to James, who stood and quietly excused himself from the room, closing the door behind him. The click of the latch echoed loudly.
Ethan leaned back slightly. "I'm being pressured to marry."
Amara blinked. "You're what?"
"My board," he continued. "Certain investors. They believe a married CEO projects stability. Trust. Long term commitment."
Amara crossed her arms. "So marry one of the women lining up to do it."
"I won't," Ethan said flatly.
"And why am I suddenly the solution?"
"Because you're not part of my world," he replied. "You're intelligent, discreet, and you don't want me."
Amara stared at him. "You think that makes this better?"
"It makes it workable."
She shook her head slowly, disbelief curling in her chest. "This is insane."
"Perhaps," Ethan said. "But it's effective."
Amara glanced back down at the folder.
Against her better judgment, she opened it.
The contract was thick.
Too thick.
She flipped through pages filled with legal language, terms, and clauses that made her head spin. Dates. Conditions. Financial figures that looked unreal.
"This can't be serious," she murmured.
"It is," Ethan said. "The arrangement would last one year."
"One year," Amara repeated.
"You would receive a monthly allowance," he continued, "housing, full coverage of medical expenses for immediate family, and compensation upon completion of the contract."
Her breath caught.
Medical expenses.
Her mother's face flashed in her mind. The hospital rooms. The bills stacked neatly in envelopes she pretended not to notice.
Ethan watched her carefully.
"There are conditions," he added.
Of course there were.
Amara turned the page. "No romantic involvement," she read aloud. "No public disputes.Appearances at agreed upon events. Confidentiality."
She looked up sharply. "So I play the role of your wife in public and stay out of your way in private."
"Yes."
"And what do you get?"
"A stable image," he said. "And time."
"To do what?"
"That's not relevant,"
She scoffed. "Of course it is."
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer."
Amara flipped further.
"Living arrangements," she read. "Shared residence."
"That's non-negotiable," Ethan said. "We need to be convincing."
Amara closed the folder slowly.
Silence settled between them.
"This is wrong," she said quietly.
Ethan met her gaze. "Then say no."
She almost laughed.
Say no.
As if it were that simple.
Her phone buzzed in her bag.
She froze.
Slowly, she pulled it out.
Another message from her landlord.
Formal notice will be issued tomorrow if payment is not received.
Amara's throat tightened.
She looked back at Ethan, anger and desperation colliding inside her.
"You planned this," she said.
"I anticipated resistance," he corrected.
"You knew I was vulnerable."
Ethan's voice softened slightly. "I know you need help."
"That doesn't make this right."
"No," he agreed. "It makes it necessary."
She hated that part of herself that understood what he meant.
She stood abruptly, pacing the length of the room. Her thoughts raced, tangled and frantic.
A fake marriage.
A year of pretending.
Living with a man who had fired her without blinking.
And yet…
Security.
Stability.
Time to breathe.
She stopped pacing and turned back to him.
"What happens after the year?" She asked.
"We go our separate ways," Ethan said. "No strings."
"And if I break the contract?"
"There are penalties."
She huffed. "Naturally."
Amara stared at the folder again.
"I don't trust you," she said.
"I'm not asking you to."
She laughed bitterly. "Then what are you asking?"
Ethan leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I'm asking you to survive."
The words hit harder than she expected.
She thought of her mother. Lena's tiny apartment. The growing fear that had followed her since the meeting yesterday.
Her pride warred with her reality.
Finally, she sat back down.
"Add one condition," she said.
Ethan raised a brow. "Go on."
"You clear my name," Amara said firmly. "You find out who actually accessed those files. I won't be your wife, contract or not, if I'm carrying that stain."
Ethan studied her for a long moment.
Then he nodded. "Agreed."
"And I choose my own schedule," she added. "I won't be on display every second."
"That's reasonable."
She exhaled slowly.
Her hand hovered over the signature page.
This wasn't a dream. Or a nightmare.
It was a choice.
Amara picked up the pen.
"I want this in writing," she said.
"It already is."
She signed.
The ink dries almost instantly.
Ethan took the folder, added his signature beneath hers, and closed it.
"It's done," he said.
Amara leaned back in her chair, her heart pounding.
"I can't believe I just did that."
"Never can I," Ethan admitted.
They stood at the same time.
"I'll have my assistant contact you about moving arrangements," he said. "We'll announce the engagement in two weeks."
"Engagement?" She echoed.
"It's more believable."
She shook her head. "This is unbelievable."
Ethan paused at the door. "Ms. Collins, Amara."
She looked at him.
"This will only work if we don't forget one thing."
"What's that?"
"We are not enemies," he said. "Not anymore."
Amara held his gaze.
"Then you should have thought about that yesterday."
She walked past him and out of the room, her legs unsteady but her steps determined.
Behind her, Ethan watched her go, something unfamiliar tightening his chest.
He had expected compliance.
What he hadn't expected was resistance.
Or respect.
And he definitely hadn't expected the unsettling realization that this contract might cost him more than he'd planned.