Chapter 1 - Chapter 1: The offer

New York's skyline stretched before Victoria Harrington like a wall of steel and glass, a testament to the city's power and ambition. From the 45th floor of Andrew Sinclair's penthouse, the view was breathtaking, but to her, it was just a cold reflection of a life she could never have.Victoria sat on the edge of a plush leather chair, her fingers sinking into the armrest as she peered out the window, the anxiety in her chest increasing with every passing second. Behind her, the soft sound of Andrew's purposeful footfall bounced off the polished flooring; his presence was like a storm she couldn't escape. Her heart raced in her chest. Standing on the edge of a decision that may either rescue her or destroy her, she had not anticipated being here today. Originally meant to be a straightforward interview with powerful wealthy magnate Andrew Sinclair, the meeting had evolved into something much more sinister at some point. Victoria turned around and breathed deeply. Behind his desk, Andrew stood erect, his form framed by the wide windows. Sharp and analytical, his gaze was locked on her with a combination of interest and amusement. Dressed perfectly, his fitted suit stood out against the backdrop of New York's vast cityscape. A powerful, controlled, and absolutely precise man. She could not help but feel little before it. It troubled her. It scared her that this stranger, this guy, held the key to her redemption. "This is a joke," Victoria muttered, clutching the armrest of the chair as though she could anchor herself in this bizarre event. You want me to act like your fiancée? Are you out of your mind? Unfazed by her scream, Andrew sat back in his chair, fingers tapping against the polished mahogany in slow, rhythmic patterns. Watching her, his gaze fixed on her face, his lips twisted into a little smirk. "Miss Harrington, I don't make jokes," he said, his voice low and measured. Every statement was deliberate, like a man who had been in control of every facet of his life for far too long. Her heart quickened. He was frigid, methodical, just the sort of guy she had hoped never to run across. But she was left with no option. This was more than simply an interview. It was her final chance. Following the exposé that had catapulted her into a public scandal, her career was finished and her reputation ruined. Theodore Winslow had made sure of it; his media influence had been more than enough to bury her name and quiet her. No bylines exist. No work offers. Only pitying glances and murmured no's. Months had gone by without anyone contacting to assist her. Apart from Andrew Sinclair, then. He was the only one who appeared to find anything in her. She didn't care if it was pity, curiosity, or just cold strategy. She wanted this. No matter how unlikely it appeared, she had to accept this deal. She squared her shoulders and made an effort to meet his eyes. "I'm not here for games, Mr. Sinclair," she responded, her hands shaking but her voice firm. I want a genuine opportunity. A chance to exonerate myself. You can provide that. Andrew observed her, his gaze fixed on hers. She could sense his assessment, his judgement. But he didn't see pity in her. It was more frigid, more deliberate, something different. He viewed a tool as an asset. That much was evident. Confident in his stance and every action, he leaned forward and joined his hands on the desk. I don't negotiate with folks who lack knowledge of the worth of those agreements. His voice was quiet, nearly condescending. Miss Harrington, you are in need. Your eyes reveal your need. Her jaw set. She was not frantic. Still, she had nothing left to lose. Andrew went on, his voice softer as if trying to catch her like a fish caught on a line, "I'm giving you more than a career, Victoria." Your approach to redeem yourself is not just in the eyes of the media but also in the eyes of the people who matter, Victoria. Should you be ready to contribute, you will be more than simply a reporter. You will be the woman who returned from the ashes. His words made her swallow; they pressed down on her like a smothering cover. Her feet were planted to the ground, so she wished to walk away and say no. This was her moment. Her only shot. "What do you want in exchange?" she enquired, her voice calm in spite of the tempest of uncertainty in her head. Andrew didn't skip a beat. I want an image revamp. The press and my brother's disgrace have damaged my standing. I want someone to assist me in cleaning up my mess so the world can see I am able to recover. "You are precisely what I need," he said, pointing to her with icy accuracy. The mistreated woman, the fallen golden girl the system unjustly brought down. It's the ideal tale. The idea made Victoria's stomach knot. He was taking advantage of her. He was using her as a pawn in his game of redemption. But she could not pass up an offer like this. Not when it was the only thing separating her from total anonymity. "What do I receive?" she enquired, her voice more cautious and gentler now. The first indication of amusement in Andrew's gaze was a smirk on his lips. Miss. Harrington, your career back. Plus a front-row view of the largest narrative of the decade. You wish to know the reality regarding Langston's scandal? The genuine narrative behind it all? I'll let you have it. Everything you need to reclaim your life back, cleanse your name, and destroy Theodore Winslow. She choked. He was giving her the chance to kill Winslow, the guy who had ruined her. The opportunity to finally set things right. It was enticing. Too enticing. Victoria's head spun. The contract lay between them like a cold, harsh truth. She didn't believe Andrew. Not really, I suppose. She was running out of choices, though, and his offer, too excellent to overlook. "What is the catch?" Andrew's grin got bigger. There is no catch; There are terms, however. His voice fell a notch and his stare grew steely. You will act as my fiancée. Over the course of six months. That's the arrangement. Victoria winced, her thoughts racing. What is it? Are you crazy? You want me to act as though we are in a relationship with you? Andrew's look remained unchanged. Victoria, it's not about love; It's about how one views things. We act out the part; the world accepts it. They will believe it since they have to. And I will provide you all you require to reconstruct. You must believe me, though. Leaning forward, her heart raced inside her chest. The stakes were greater than she had ever believed. But could she believe him? She took a deep breath. "What if I say no?" Andrew's eyes grew frigid, and his grin darkened. You then exit that door. You stay unworthy. It's really that easy. His words fell on her like a weight. She had no other options. Everything was at stake: her profession, her future, all of it. Victoria stared at the slick contract lying between them with a trembling breath. The pen was close at hand; its weight signalled the decision altering her life. Andrew reclined in his chair, his eyes fixed on her. Victoria, don't be mistaken. Signing makes you mine. Entirely. There is no turning back. Staring at the contract made her heart race in her chest. Her racing thoughts made the words on the paper fuzzy. She intended to leave. She wished to deny him. But she was unable to do so. She could not afford to. She reached for the pen with shaking fingers. Andrew got up from his chair the instant the ink dried and walked around the desk with flowing grace. He raised her chin without thinking, his fingers grazing her skin to send a thrill into her. He smiled, his eyes shining with pleasure. "Congratulations, sweetheart," he whispered, his voice dripping with icy pleasure. In one hour, we hold a press conference. Victoria's stomach sank. One hour? She was not prepared. Turning back now was too late, though.