I signed the marriage contract without blinking.
No hesitation. No flutter of nerves. Just a firm press of my pen and silence so thick I can hear the scratch of ink on paper like it's screaming.
Across the glass desk, Kairo Thorne doesn't even look up.
His fingers are steepled, his jaw hard, and his expression unreadable. Armani suit, perfectly tailored. Eyes cold as stone. Every inch of him says he doesn't care. And that's the point. This isn't love. This is my survival..
"You'll move into the penthouse by tonight," he says, voice as sharp as the blade that just cut the last piece of my independence.
I nod once. "I understand."
He finally lifts his eyes to mine. They're grey like a storm you don't outrun.
"Don't disappoint me," he adds.
"I never do."
He signs the last page, pushes the folder to the side, and stands.
Just like that, I became Mrs. Zara Thorne.
Fake wife to the coldest CEO on the eastern seaboard.
And the man I used to love? The one who swore he'd find me again? I haven't seen Noah West in eight years.
"You can't just marry someone like that!"
Mimi's voice echoes through the bridal suite as she zips up my dress. It's simple. Elegant. White with a slit up the thigh and no lace, because Kairo said lace was "too emotional."
"I didn't marry him, Mimi. I married a contract," I mutter, staring at myself in the mirror.
The woman who stares back looks nothing like me. Her makeup is perfect. Her lips are calm. Her eyes are not.
"You used to dream of beach weddings and sunflowers. Of real love. Not this arrogant man with no emotions and a prenup agreement thicker than my thesis."
"Mimi…"
"I'm serious! This is insane, Zara. It hasn't been up to a year since you met him!"
"And I've known poverty longer," I snap.
The silence is instant.
Mimi steps back, obviously wounded by my words.
And I regret it instantly. "I didn't mean—"
"No. It's fine. I get it."
She grabs her purse and leaves.
My best friend. My last cheerleader. Gone.
I am so, so alone.
The wedding is small.. A backdrop of sleek black walls and artificial roses. No real guests. No real vows. Just board members, camera clicks, and cold champagne.
Kairo kisses me like it's a business deal.
His lips brush mine for a fraction of a second. Then he pulls away and offers his arm like it's a chair.
I take it. Because what choice do I have?
"Smile for the press," he whispers through his teeth.
I do. I smile like I'm happy. Like I didn't just sell my soul to a man who makes my heart stop for the wrong reasons.
I used to believe in love. In slow kisses. In promises.
But love didn't pay my brother's hospital bills.
Kairo did.
Later, in the car, we didn't speak.
His driver, Sebastian, says nothing either. The silence follows us like a third person, breathing down my neck.
When we finally arrive at the penthouse, the driver opens the door, and Kairo gets out without waiting for me.
I follow like a shadow.
The elevator ride to the 65th floor is awkward. Tense.
When the doors slide open, I freeze.
The apartment is massive. Floor-to-ceiling glass. Soft grey and gold finishes. Like a magazine cover, but colder. Too perfect to feel real.
"You'll stay in the guest bedroom until further notice," Kairo says without looking at me.
"Until you trust me?"
He turns slowly. "Until I decide how much of you I want."
The breath catches in my throat.
His tone isn't suggestive. It's possessive.
And terrifying.
"You asked me to marry you," I say.
"No. I offered you a lifeline. Don't get it twisted."
I swallow hard.
"Dinner is at seven. Don't be late," he adds before walking off into a hallway, and I'm suddenly too afraid to explore.
I collapse on the couch and pull out my phone. I scroll through old texts. Photos. Memories I've tried to bury.
One message stands out.
Noah:I'll come back for you, Zara. I swear.
That was eight years ago.
He left for New York with nothing but ambition and that stupid guitar he used to serenade me with.
He never came back.
I swipe away the chat.
But my fingers tremble.
I should hate him.
Instead, I wonder what he would think if he saw me now?
Would he recognize the girl who used to believe in happy endings?
Or would he see what I've become?
Just a girl playing dress-up in a stranger's name.
That night, dinner was awkward.
The food is perfect. But I barely touch it.
Kairo reads a file while eating steak.
"Why me?" I ask suddenly.
He pauses.
"You could've married anyone. Any rich heiress. Model. Someone who fits your world."
He doesn't look up. "Exactly. They all fit. I don't want someone who fits."
I frown. "So you wanted someone who doesn't?"
He sets down his fork, finally meets my gaze.
"I wanted someone who would owe me. Someone who wouldn't leave."
The words hit harder than they should.
Because deep down, I am that girl.
The one who never leaves.
Even when she should.
At midnight, I sneak onto the balcony with a glass of wine.
The city looks endless from up here. Distant. Glowing. Cruel.
And then my phone vibrates.
Unknown Number.
I almost ignore it.
Then I see the message.
Unknown:Zara. It's me.
My heart slams into my chest.
Noah.