Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Ethan

I sat alone in my office, high above the sleepless city, the glow of skyscrapers bleeding into the room through the glass walls. The silence was thick—almost suffocating. It clung to the air like humidity before a storm. The only sound was the steady ticking of the antique clock behind me, a cruel reminder that time moved forward whether we were ready or not.

And I had just asked her to marry me.

No flowers. No ring. No trembling voice or heartfelt confession. Just a blunt proposition dressed in power and calculation. And she said yes.

I didn’t expect the twist in my chest when she agreed—like something in me had clicked into place, or maybe snapped under the weight. It wasn’t relief. It wasn’t victory. It was something quieter, sharper. Foreign.

I didn’t give myself the luxury of overthinking it. I reached for my phone and called Ramon, my lawyer and—unfortunately—my closest friend.

“Draft the contract,” I said the second he answered.

There was a pause, then a weary sigh. “What kind of contract?”

“The one we discussed. Marriage of convenience. Bulletproof.”

“…You’re serious?”

“As a damn heart attack.”

He groaned. “No emotional entanglements, public appearances only, and a clause against falling in love? That one?”

“Exactly that one.”

“Ethan, I was hoping you were bluffing. Don’t tell me you’re actually doing this.”

“I’m doing it. Just draft the damn thing and get over here.”

Three hours later, Ramon stepped into my office, disheveled and irritated, his tie halfway undone and briefcase swinging loosely from his hand. He dropped it on my desk like it offended him.

“This better be a joke,” he said, tossing a folder in front of me. “Because if it’s not, I’m staging an intervention.”

“I wish it were,” I muttered, flipping open the file.

“I had to customize a blank template. This kind of crazy doesn’t exist off the shelf. Who is she?”

“You know her,” I replied, not looking up.

His brow furrowed. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Ethan. You promised you’d give it a few days.”

“I don’t have a few days. And I don’t need your judgment right now.”

He rubbed his temples, exhaling slowly. “Fine. Who is she?”

“You know her,” I repeated.

“Say her name.”

I looked up. “Liana.”

His hands stilled above the keyboard. “Liana… as in Damian ex?”

“The one and only.”

“You’re marrying your employee’s ex-fiancée? The woman being dragged across social media like a soap opera villain? Ethan, are you high?”

“She’s not what they say she is.”

“And you know this because…?”

“Because I see her. Because I listened.”

He laughed bitterly. “Listened? Ethan, you don’t even listen to yourself.”

I stood, crossing to the window, the city a shifting canvas of lights and motion. The streets pulsed with life—tiny people with tiny dreams. And here I was, on top of it all, about to rewrite a woman’s future because I felt... what? Pity? Admiration? Control?

“She’s fire in a rainstorm. I respect that.”

“You could have anyone. Models, heiresses, executives with double Ivy degrees. But no. You go for the woman everyone is pointing fingers at.”

“That’s exactly why. I don’t want someone safe or polished. I want someone real. And right now, no one is more real than Liana.”

“And this has nothing to do with Jason being your golden boy?”

I turned slowly, meeting his gaze. “Jason is a polished hypocrite. He won employee of the year while stringing her along and leaving her to raise a sick child alone.”

“He says she tried to extort him—”

“And I say I don’t care what he says. I’ve seen the way she holds herself, the way she shields that little girl with her life. That’s not manipulation. That’s survival.”

Ramon threw his hands in the air. “You’re turning this into some kind of media redemption arc.”

“Exactly.” I walked toward him, voice steady. “Imagine the headlines: ruthless billionaire marries single mother publicly abandoned by her fiancé. Suddenly, I’m not just feared—I’m admired. Humanized. Even respected.”

“You want to play hero now?”

I shrugged. “Why not?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re not doing this out of kindness. You’re doing this for control. For image.”

“Image is currency, Ramon. And she’s not just a pawn—I chose her because she’s not begging. She didn’t come to me. I came to her.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“Then let it burn.”

He studied me, searching my face for something—maybe hesitation, maybe regret. He wouldn’t find either.

“You really think she won’t fall in love with you?”

“She won’t.”

“And if you fall for her?”

I laughed, cold and hollow. “I don’t fall. I deal. I negotiate. I build empires.”

“And destroy people.”

“She’s not a person I want to destroy. She’s a woman I want to protect… in exchange for her silence, her cooperation, her presence. That’s it.”

He sat back, arms folded. “You’re lying to yourself.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m good at it.”

He sighed, typing. “Terms?”

“One-year marriage. Renewable only if both parties agree. No sex. No emotional claims. Mandatory public appearances. She gets a monthly stipend, her daughter’s hospital bills covered, and her own place. In return, she plays the devoted wife until the year ends.”

“And the clause about love?”

“Put it in bold. No love. No expectation. No betrayal.”

Ramon nodded slowly. “You really thought this through.”

“I always do.”

He typed for a while in silence. Then: “You sure she’ll go for it?”

“She already has.”

“She said yes to the proposal, not the contract.”

“She’ll sign it. She’s smart.”

“Smart people walk away from loaded deals like this.”

“She has a daughter. I made sure the deal speaks to that.”

Ramon studied me, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “You’re not doing this just to fix your image. You like her.”

I didn’t respond.

“That scares you more than it should.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.

He closed the laptop. “Alright. I’ll finalize it tomorrow. But Ethan… if you break her, I’ll break you.”

I smiled faintly. “That’s why I like having you on my side.”

Ramon walked to the door, pausing before he left. “And if she breaks you?”

“She won’t,” I said quickly.

But after he left, I found myself staring into the reflection in the window. The man I saw wore confidence like armor, but something under the surface was shifting—something small, something dangerous.

I’d made my choice.

Now I just had to live with it.