Victoria stared at the folder in her hands like it might disappear if she blinked.
The leather felt expensive. Smooth, heavy and not something that should be anywhere near her life status. And yet, there it was, resting against her palms like it belonged to her.
Her fingers tightened slightly as her eyes dropped to the gold lettering pressed into it.
Marriage Documents.
For a second, her brain refused to process it.
Then it did. And everything inside her went still.
She slowly lifted her head, her eyes moving from the words back to the man standing across from her, like she was waiting for him to laugh, to say it was a joke, to say she misunderstood.
He didn't.
"Excuse me…?" Her voice came out thinner than she expected. "I—I don't… understand. What is this?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he straightened from where he had been leaning, adjusting his wrist slightly before stepping fully upright. The movement was calm, like nothing in the world could rush him as he made his way back to his seat.
"My name is Martin Solberg," he said simply. "Martin is fine."
Victoria watched his demeanor; he was not one to be rushed. No need to prove anything when he knew his worth.
"I am the CEO of Silvera Pharmaceuticals."
The name settled in the air, heavy with weight she could feel but not fully understand.
"Our company has been in operation for over seventy years," he continued, picking up a pen. "Family-owned. Structured. And bound by a will that has outlived most of the people who tried to challenge it."
He rested one hand lightly against the arm rest.
"I am the only heir."
Victoria said nothing. She just stood there, still holding the folder, her fingers slowly pressing into the leather like she needed something real to hold onto.
"And according to that will," he went on, "ownership of the company can only be transferred to me once I am married."
He rose his bare ring finger to her view. "As you can see, I am not."
Her brows pulled together slightly, confusion creeping in despite everything else screaming louder in her head.
He continued before she could speak.
"My father's health is declining. The board is… impatient. And I have no intention of letting what my family built fall into the hands of people who did not earn it."
He glanced at her briefly. "And yet, here I am. Unmarried."
Silence settled again as Victoria's grip on the file loosened just a little.
Martin then pull out a cigar from his drawer, placing between his teeth as he lit it and drew a few breaths.
"Yesterday," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "you trespassed into my family cemetery. You attempted to dispose of a body. You involved yourself with a man who, for the record, is not exactly known for lawful behavior."
Her breath caught.
"And I was left with a decision. As any right upstanding citizen would do. To report you."
Her stomach dropped.
"Or," he added calmly, "I could make use of the opportunity placed in front of me."
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
"You said you would do anything," he reminded her. "To stay out of prison."
The words hit harder the second time.
"This," he gestured lightly toward the folder in her hands, "is what I require."
Victoria's eyes dropped back to the documents, her thoughts finally catching up with her.
Marriage.
To him. A stranger…
Her chest tightened. This didn't make sense. None of it did.
"And in return," he continued, almost like he was discussing a simple business deal with a few smoke puffs, "your situation disappears. Simple."
Her head snapped up. "What…?"
"Your father's death will not be investigated," he said plainly. "No record. No case. No trial."
Her heart started pounding again.
"And your family," he added, "will be taken care of."
That made her freeze. "What do you mean… taken care of?"
"My company will place them under a private support program," he replied. "Housing, medical expenses, living costs. All covered."
Her eyes widened. "Covered…?"
"Yes." It was said so simply it almost sounded unreal. "For the duration of our agreement, of course."
Her fingers tightened again around the folder. "And how long will that be?" she asked quietly.
"One year.".The word echoed louder than it should have.
"One year?… Why one year?" she asked, almost immediately. "If this is just for inheritance, couldn't it be shorter? You could—"
"No." The answer came quickly, but not harshly. "The will requires a minimum of one year of marriage," he explained. "Anything less raises suspicion. It will be investigated. And if it is deemed fraudulent, I lose everything."
Oh... she nodded in understanding.
"And you lose your protection." That shut her up quick.
Her throat went dry as she looked back down at the papers again.
This wasn't just about him.
It was about her.
Her mother.
Her sister.
Her chest tightened at the thought of them.
Slowly, she swallowed.
"What's the catch?"
He watched her for a second before giving a small nod. "At least you ask the right questions. An intelligent wife is a bonus."
She didn't feel smart. She felt like she was drowning.
"No one is to know about this arrangement…"
Thats sensible, she thought. Not until he added, "And you will cut ties with your family."
Her brow spiked high. "What!?"
"It is necessary," he said, still calm. "Media attention will follow this marriage. If you remain connected to them, they become a liability. People will investigate. Questions will be asked. And eventually, your father's disappearance will surface."
Her breathing grew uneven.
"To keep them safe," he continued, "you have stay away."
"That's not—" she started, but her voice broke slightly. "That's not fair."
"No," he agreed easily. "It is not. But it's logical."
That threw her off more than if he had argued.
Her hands trembled slightly.
"If you want," he added, "they will receive financial support without any trace leading back to you or to me. They will be safe and comfortable."
Her mind spun.
Safe. Comfortable. Without her.
She looked down again, her thoughts pulling in every direction at once. If they knew where she was, they would try to repeatedly reach out — which would endanger all of them.
So the wisest would be to not allow them know where she was. But then they'd panic… Her chest gripped.
What if she lied abour her whereabouts just so they'd know she was okay, maybe that would be safer while they got the support he provided.
"And… the rules?" she suddenly asked after a moment, her voice quieter now.
"Simple," he said. "You stay out of my affairs. I stay out of yours. We coexist."
That sounded almost too easy.
"When necessary," he added, "we perform. In front of the right people, we are a married couple. Convincing enough to pass inspection and secure my inheritance."
Her stomach twisted slightly at that.
"Other terms will be explained after signing."
She nodded slowly, even though her head felt heavy.
Silence stretched between them again.
Then, softly, "Can I… go home first? Just to think—"
"No."
The answer was immediate this time. "If you leave without signing," he said, "I cannot guarantee your protection and that's not a wise risk."
Her heart dropped.
"The longer you remain exposed, the higher the risk," he continued. "I do not operate on uncertainty."
She stood there, frozen.
Her then thoughts drifted, to Mercy's shaking hands, to her mother's silent tears, to the body lying under that sheet.
To the hammer.
Her chest tightened painfully.
This wasn't just about her anymore.
It never was.
Slowly, her fingers tightened around the folder again.
One year.
Just one year.
For their safety.
For everything to disappear.
Her throat moved as she swallowed.
Then finally, barely above a whisper, she spoke.
"…Where do I sign?"