The address Richard gave me led to a mansion that seemed only at home in a fairytale-scientific, of course, with iron gates and security cameras. I sat in my beat-up Honda Civic, staring at a structure before me through the windshield, my hands trembling on the steering wheel.

This was insane. I was about to meet a complete stranger who was asking me to marry him for money. The sane side of my brain screamed to get lost, but thinking of Mom's broken expression and Grace's tear-smeared face kept me glued to the place.

The intercom crackled to life before I could even press the button. "Miss Carter, please proceed through. Mr. Blackwood is waiting."

There was a hum of machinery and the gates opened sounding warning. I drove up the circular left, past manicured gardens and marble fountains, feeling smaller with each passing second. My five-year-old Honda looked ridiculous against the backdrop of such wealth.

Before I could knock, a crisp black-uniformed butler opened the front door. He was very old and would have kind eyes, which saw right through me.

"Miss Carter, I'm Henderson. Mr. Blackwood is in the library."

The inside was even more threatening than the outside. The high ceilings were littered with crystal chandeliers and oil paintings, all of which likely cost more than my family's house. My footsteps echoed on the marble floor as Henderson led me through a maze of corridors.

"Here we are," Henderson said, opening massive oak doors. "Sir, Miss Carter has arrived."

The library was enormous and filled with leather books from floor to ceiling. There was a crackling fire in the marble fireplace while shadows danced over the room. And there, standing with his back to me, was Damian Blackwood.

He turned slowly, and I forgot how to breathe.

Damian Blackwood was hauntingly beautiful in a way that appeared almost cruel. Dark hair perfectly styled, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of storm clouds. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and everything about him screamed power and control.

But it was his eyes that made my stomach flip. Cold, calculating, and devoid of warmth.

"Miss Carter." His voice was deep, cultured, with just the slightest hint of an unplaceable accent. "Please, sit."

I perched on the edge of a leather chair, feeling extraordinarily out of place in my simple black dress. He remained standing, appraising me as if I were a business proposal he was contemplating.

"Richard has filled you in on the details." He began matter-of-factly. "I need a wife for one year; you need financial support. It's a simple business deal."

"Simple?" I found my voice, but it had escaped my mouth smaller than I'd intended. "Marriage isn't simple."

"This isn't a real marriage." His voice was factual, bored almost. "It's a contract. You'll be living here, attending functions as my wife, creating the illusion of a relationship. Nothing further."

"And in return?"

"Your family's debts will be paid off. Your sister's medical school will be taken care of. Your mother will get the best care that money can provide." He moved over to a desk, pulled out a thick folder. "The terms are outlined here."

I glared at the folder as if it were a snake. "What about... I mean, what do you expect from me as a wife?"

For the first time, something flared in his eyes. "I told you it isn't real. We will have separate bedrooms, separate lives. You're not here to be my wife- you're here to act."

"And after the year?"

"You will have a settlement that will allow you to comfortably live for the rest of your life. Finish your architecture degree, start your own firm. Whatever you want."

The offer was everything I had ever dreamed of and nothing I had ever wanted. Financial freedom, but it cost me one year of my life. Security for my family, but under a cloud of deception and false pretenses.

"Why me?" I finally whispered. "If this is just business, why not hire an actress or a model?"

He stood still for a long moment, his gaze fixed on my face. "You have something the others lack."

"What?"

"Desperation." The word slashed like an open palm. "You won't ask questions; you won't develop feelings. You will do what needs to be done to protect your family."

Heat rushed to my cheeks. "You think I'm that pathetic?"

"I think you are practical." He drew closer, causing me to catch the whiff of expensive cologne mixed with something darker. "This arrangement benefits us both. I get what I need; you get what you need. Cool, no emotions, no complications."

"What if I change my mind? What if I want to quit?"

His expression hardened. "Read the contract well, Miss Carter. There are penalties in place for breach of agreement. Very severe ones."

A chill crept down my spine. "What sort of penalties?"

"The type that will leave your family worse off than they are now." He returned to his desk, his body language dismissing me altogether. "You have till tomorrow to think it over. Richard will call with the details."

I stood up, my legs shaking. "I haven't agreed to anything."

"Haven't you?" He looked up from the papers he had been shuffling. "You're here, aren't you? You're considering it. That tells me everything I need to know about your answer."

His arrogance rolled my blood into a simmer. "You don't know anything about me."

"I know you're twenty-two years old, an architecture student at State University, and you've been financially supporting your family since you were sixteen," he said, his voice clinical and detached. "I know you've never had a serious relationship because you don't have the time for one. I know you work three part-time jobs and still can't keep your head above water."

Each fact felt like an invasion of space. "You had me investigated?"

"I investigate all my business partners." He rose now, towering over me. "I know you are stubborn, proud, and fiercely protective of your family. I know you would do anything to save them, even at the price of your own happiness."

"You are wrong about me."

"Am I?" He stepped closer, close enough for me to see the flecks of silver in his gray eyes. "Prove it. Walk away. Tell your sister she has to drop out of medical school. Tell your mother she'll have to learn to endure her depression without any proper treatment. Tell yourself you chose pride over their survival."

I had the urge to hit him. I wanted to scream at him—to scream at him for being correct; he saw right through me. But most of all, I wanted to get as far away from this cold and beautiful man, who kept talking about my family like they were chess pieces.

"I need time to think."

"Of course." He went back to his desk as if I had disappeared entirely. "Henderson will escort you out."

I was almost at the door when his voice stopped me.

"Miss Carter?"

I turned back with great reluctance.

"This arrangement will save your family. But it will cost you something in return. Make sure you understand what you're going to give up before you sign."

"What am I giving up?"

His smile was emotionally frozen and essentially lifeless. "The illusion that you have no other choice."

Henderson seemed almost conjured into existence, steering me back through a maze of corridors. The butler's kindness was some balm to my soul after the bullying of Damian.

"He's not as cold as he seems," Henderson whispered to me when we reached the front door.

"I really find that hard to believe."

"A great deal of pain has been inflicted on him. At times, pain compels people to erect walls that they aren't able to take down."

I looked back at the mansion, wondering what kind of pain could have made a person like the one I had met just now. "What did he go through?"

Henderson's expression leaked sadness. "That's not my story to tell, miss. But I will say this-he's not the villain he wants everyone to think he is."

As I drove away from the mansion, Damian's words kept replaying in my mind. This arrangement will save your family. But it will cost you something in return.

I thought of Grace's dream of being a doctor, Mom's vulnerability, and life insurance that wouldn't be enough to rescue us. I considered my father's memory and the promise I had made to keep our family together.

By the time I reached home, I knew how my answer would go. I would marry Damian Blackwood, reside in his cold mansion, and play the role for a year. To save the people most dear to me, I would forgo my dreams, my pride, and my heart.

Yet, as I drove in, I had this gnawing feeling that I was entering something far more dangerous than merely a deal between two parties. The way Damian had looked at me, the terms upon which he had spoken, and Henderson's hints of concealed intrigue—all felt like pieces of a puzzle that I just could not put together.

Grace was waiting for me in the living room, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

"How did it go?" she asked.

I forced a smile. "I met him. He's... different than I expected."

"Different how?"

"Cold. Businesslike. But the offer is real." I sat down next to her and took her hands in mine. "Grace, he could pay for everything. Your tuition, your Mom's treatment, the house. Everything."

"And what does he want in return?"

"A year of my life. A fake marriage for the family inheritance." I squeezed her hands. "I'm going to do it."

"Izzy, no. You can't sacrifice yourself for us."

"I'm not sacrificing myself. I'm buying us time. One year down the road, you'll be well on your way to becoming a doctor. Mom will be stable. And I'll be free to chase my own dreams with the financial means to pursue them."

Grace studied my face. "You're scared."

"Terrified," I admitted. "But I'm determined. This is our chance, Grace. Our only chance."

That night, I drifted restlessly, turning and tossing as I tried to convince myself of life with Damian Blackwood for a year. Pretending to be someone I wasn't, sharing the same space with a man who considered me a mere business deal.

But then came thoughts of Grace's acceptance letter into med school, or of Mom's doctor appointments, or of mortgage payments that would never be fulfilled. Thoughts came flooding back of the legacy of Dad and the family he toiled in order to sustain.

One year for my life in exchange for theirs. One year in solitude for two years of bliss. One year pretending to love a man who clearly abhorred the idea of love.

I could do it. I had to do it.

Yet even as I finally slipped into unconsciousness, the memory of Damian's eyes would not leave me. Cold, unfeeling, yes, but beneath that layer of frost, I saw another sensation flickering there. Almost pain.

Henderson was right: Damian Blackwood was hiding something. And I had a chilling feeling that whatever it was he was hiding, it would change everything about our arrangement.

The next morning, I woke with an echo of Richard's voice ringing in my head, which I barely registered—something about shifts in the terms, about complications I had never anticipated.

But that couldn't be. I had been sleeping all night.

Hadn't I?

I reached for my phone to check the time and froze. There was a text from an unknown number sent at 3:47 AM: *"Sleep well, future Mrs. Blackwood. Tomorrow, your real education begins."*