Chapter One

POV: Calla Reyes

“You forged my signature.”

My hand froze on the doorknob. The voice behind me was smooth, cold, and unmistakably real. I turned slowly, praying I had misheard, but there he was — Damon Voss, standing in my crumbling apartment like he owned it.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I said, even though my stomach had already flipped.

His eyes didn’t move. “The zoning permit you submitted to the city last week. Page five. My name, in perfect black ink, written in your handwriting.”

“You’re mistaken,” I tried, but the heat rising in my chest was giving me away.

“You’re not very good at lying,” he said. “But I expected that. You’re desperate. And desperation makes people reckless.”

“I had no choice,” I snapped. “My brother was going to get sued. Your company was about to destroy his only shot at a future.”

“So you committed fraud.”

I hated how calm he was. Like my entire life was just a minor inconvenience to his.

I folded my arms. “You came all the way to Queens to say that?”

“No,” he said. “I came to make you an offer.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You want to avoid jail. I want to avoid losing control of my board. Lucky us, there’s a way to solve both problems.”

He stepped closer, and I could smell the clean, expensive scent of him. He looked like he belonged on a yacht, not in my one-bedroom shoebox.

“You’re insane if you think I’m agreeing to anything,” I said.

“You haven’t heard it yet.”

“I don’t want to.”

He ignored me. “My company has a clause that requires a spouse on record for the CEO to retain absolute authority. My ex-fiancée terminated our engagement last month. That means the clock is ticking.”

My brain stalled. “You want me to be your… fake wife?”

“Legally binding. One year. After that, we go our separate ways.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You think I’d marry you after you threatened me with jail?”

He didn’t blink. “I think you will if it means protecting your brother. And yourself.”

“I’ll fight it,” I said. “I’ll explain everything to the city. They’ll understand.”

“I have a team of lawyers who can make that story disappear before you finish your first sentence. Your brother’s entire college career will vanish with it.”

He pulled a folder from the inside of his coat and held it out.

“What’s this?”

“Your marriage contract.”

“You had it printed already?”

“I had it printed two hours ago. I knew you’d agree.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything.”

“You will.”

I slapped the folder away. It hit the floor between us.

“You’re disgusting,” I said.

His expression didn’t change. “I’m offering you freedom. And I’m offering myself a solution.”

“You don’t care about people. You care about control.”

“That’s why I built an empire. Now I need someone to help me keep it.”

I stared at the papers on the floor. My name, typed in sharp letters, stared back at me.

“You could’ve picked anyone,” I muttered.

“I needed someone forgettable. You’re clean enough to pass background checks, desperate enough to stay quiet, and bold enough to forge my name. That’s a rare combination.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I’m not wrong.”

I hated how composed he was. Like this was a business transaction, not a human decision.

“If I say no?”

“You’ll be arrested for fraud. Your brother will lose his scholarship. Your mother’s debt will be exposed. I’ll make sure of it.”

“So those are my options,” I said. “Slut or criminal.”

His jaw twitched. “Those words never came out of my mouth.”

“They didn’t need to.”

Silence stretched between us. I could feel the air crackling with fury and tension.

“I don’t trust you,” I said finally.

“You don’t have to.”

“What happens after a year?”

“We file for divorce. Quietly. You keep the bonus outlined in the contract. We pretend none of this ever happened.”

“And if I screw up?”

“You won’t,” he said. “Because I’ll make sure you don’t.”

I looked at him. Really looked. There was no kindness in his eyes. Just calculation. He wasn’t the type to lose.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll read it.”

He bent down, picked up the folder, and handed it back to me like a transaction was complete.

“You’re not scared enough,” I said.

He arched an eyebrow. “And you’re not as helpless as you pretend to be.”

I opened the folder. The terms were clear. One year. Public appearances. No real intimacy. A payout at the end. Everything boiled down to paper and control.

“I want a clause,” I said.

He didn’t flinch. “What clause?”

“No sex. No expectations. I’m not going to be another girl you use.”

He gave me a look that made my skin prickle. “Trust me. That was never part of the plan.”

My pride stung, even though I knew I should be relieved.

“Fine,” I said. “Then I want a clause about my brother. You leave him out of this.”

“You’re in no position to negotiate.”

“Then find another desperate girl. Because this one has conditions.”

For the first time, something flickered behind his gaze. Amusement. Maybe even respect.

“Done,” he said.

I turned away so he wouldn’t see the panic clawing at my throat.

“When do we do this?”

He checked his watch. “Now.”

“What?”

“You’ll need to pack. A car will take you to the penthouse. Tomorrow we’re photographed at a charity gala. My team will prep you.”

“You’re serious.”

“You’re the one who signed my name. I’m just returning the favor.”

I slammed the folder shut and grabbed my coat.

“Calla,” he said as I reached the door.

“What?”

“If you think this is the worst thing that will happen to you this year…”

He smiled, and it chilled me more than the January wind outside.

“…you’re not ready for the rest of the contract.”