CHAPTER 2: THE STRANGER

Aria's hands shook as she read the message a third time.

“ I saw what just happened.”

That was impossible. No one knew. Ethan and Lena were still in the bedroom. She hadn't called anyone. She hadn't posted anything. How could a stranger possibly—

Another message arrived.

Unknown Number:

"Your name is Aria Elizabeth Collins. You're twenty-six years old. You work at Morrison & Associates as a junior acquisitions manager. You've been with Ethan Hayes for three years, two months, and fourteen days. He's been cheating on you with Lena Carter for exactly six months and three weeks."

Aria's breath came short.

Unknown Number:

"Your parents are in Barcelona. Your apartment lease is in his name. You have $8,400 in your checking account and nowhere to go. Come. Or don't. But decide fast."

The message included an address. A penthouse in Tribeca.

This was insane. This was dangerous. This was the kind of thing that got people kidnapped.

She should call the police.

But the police would ask questions. The police would tell her to file a report. And tomorrow, everyone would know. By tomorrow, this would be all over the office. By Friday, it would be on social media. She could already see the headlines:

“ Betrayal in Manhattan: CEO's Assistant Left for Cheating Boyfriend.”

From the bedroom, she heard Ethan's voice.

"Aria? Please come talk to me. Let's just—"

She grabbed her keys and walked out of the apartment.

The October air hit her face like a slap. The corner was four blocks away. She walked it on autopilot, her mind spinning. This could be a kidnapper. This could be someone who wanted to hurt her. This was absolutely insane.

But she kept walking.

The penthouse building was all glass and steel, the kind of place that didn't have a lobby, just a security desk with a man who looked like he'd seen everything and cared about nothing.

"Aria Collins?" he asked, not looking up.

She nodded.

"Seventy-second floor. He's waiting."

The elevator was all mirrors. She caught sight of herself: perfectly styled hair falling out of its pins, smudged makeup, the dress she'd worn to work now wrinkled and pathetic. She looked like a woman whose life had just imploded. Because she was.

The doors opened onto a private floor—a single apartment that took up the entire level. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed Manhattan glittering in the dark. The furniture was all black leather and chrome, beautiful and cold.

And then he stepped out of the shadows.

He was tall. Devastatingly tall. Dark hair, dark eyes that seemed to look right through her. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than her monthly rent. Everything about him screamed danger and control and money.

"Aria Collins," he said. His voice was smooth, cultured, completely emotionless. "I'm Damian Wolfe."

The name meant nothing to her. Should it mean something?

"How did you—"

"Know about your boyfriend?" He moved closer, and she fought the urge to step back. "I've been watching."

"Watching me?"

"For three months." He stepped around her like she was a piece of art he was evaluating. "I had my people track your movements. I know your coffee order. I know you work late on Tuesdays. I know you visit your parents' house in New Jersey every other Sunday, even though you claim to your friends that you're too busy."

Every word was calculated to terrify her. And it was working.

"Why?" she whispered.

"Because I needed to know who you were before I made you an offer." He stopped in front of her, and his eyes were the coldest things she'd ever seen. "The betrayal you just discovered? I knew it was coming. I've been waiting for it."

"You're sick."

"Probably." He didn't smile. "But I'm also offering you a way out."

"Out of what?"

"Everything." He gestured to a folder on the glass table. "I need to get married. For legal and financial reasons, I need a wife. The marriage will last exactly ninety days. After that, you'll receive fifty million dollars and your freedom. No strings. No contact. A new life, if you want it."

Aria laughed. She couldn't help it. The sound was slightly hysterical. "You're insane."

"Look at that folder."

She didn't move.

"Look at it," he repeated, his voice dropping to something darker. "See what happens to you if you don't."

Against her better judgment, Aria opened the folder.

Inside were photos. Ethan and Lena arriving at a hotel together. Ethan meeting with men she didn't recognize in an upscale bar. Lena transferring money—large amounts—into an account. Documents. Evidence. A whole story laid out in black and white.

"Your boyfriend is being set up," Damian said quietly. "By people who want to hurt me. You were the method. The affair was orchestrated. Lena was planted in your life months ago specifically for this purpose."

"That's not..."

"It is." He pointed to a document. "That's the contract between your best friend and my rivals. She was paid to seduce your boyfriend. She was paid to break your heart."

Aria felt the room tilt.

"In approximately seventy-two hours, your face and your 'cheating' will be all over social media. Your coworkers already know. Your reputation is about to be destroyed. By next week, you'll be unemployable in Manhattan. By the month, you'll have nowhere to live. My rivals will have won—not because they destroyed me, but because they destroyed the person closest to me."

"I'm not close to you."

"No," he agreed. "But they don't know that. They think I care about you. And that makes you useful."

Aria's eyes snapped to his. "So this is what? You want to marry me to trick them?"

"I want to marry you," he said slowly, "because you're intelligent enough to know the difference between what you deserve and what you can survive. You deserve better than this. But you won't survive the next month without help."

He pulled another document from the folder. A contract. "Marry me for ninety days. Play the part of my wife. Help me solve a problem. Then walk away fifty million dollars richer."

"And if I say no?"

"Then I disappear, and you face what's coming alone." He met her gaze steadily. "Your choice."

Aria stood there, holding a contract from a stranger, looking out at a city that was about to destroy her.

"I need time to think," she said.

"You have one hour." He walked toward the window. "Decide quickly, Aria. The timeline is accelerating."

Her phone buzzed with a notification. A trending hashtag: #CheatedOn

With trembling fingers, she clicked it.

There were already videos. Photos of her leaving the apartment, crying. Comments from people she'd worked with for three years calling her "pathetic" and "desperate." Someone had already leaked the story to Page Six.

She looked at Damian, then at the contract in her hands.

"I need to sign something," she said quietly, "before I lose everything."

She held the pen over the signature line. This wasn't a contract. This was a cage. A beautiful, golden, incredibly expensive cage. But cage nonetheless.

She thought of her apartment. She thought of Ethan's arms around Lena. She thought of tomorrow when everyone would know.

"Smart girl.”