CONTRACTED TO THE COLD CEO

The fluorescent lights in the hospital hallway buzzed like angry insects. I sat on the hard plastic chair outside Room 407, staring at the white floor until the lines blurred. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I pressed them between my knees, but it didn’t help.

Dad’s condition had worsened overnight. The doctor’s words still echoed in my head: “He needs the surgery within two weeks, Miss Reed. Without it…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

I already knew.

The bill sitting in my bag was thicker than my last three paychecks combined. The numbers on it made my stomach twist. Forty-eight thousand dollars. And that was just the deposit.

My phone vibrated. I already knew who it was before I looked.

Lila: (Any update? I’m scared, Ava.)

I typed back with stiff fingers.

Ava: (Still waiting. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.)

I always handled it. That was the deal ever since Mom died six years ago. I became an adult. Lila got to keep being a kid, even though she was nineteen now and studying at a university we could barely afford.

The elevator at the end of the hall dinged. A man in a sharp black suit stepped out, followed by two others who looked like bodyguards. I barely glanced at them. Rich people came and went in this hospital all the time. They didn’t sit on plastic chairs and calculate which of their organs they could sell first.

My phone rang this time. Unknown number. I almost ignored it, but something made me answer.

“Miss Ava Reed?” The voice was smooth, female, and professional.

“Yes.”

“This is Evelyn from Voss Corporation’s private legal team. We understand you’re facing significant medical expenses for your father. We have a proposition that could resolve your financial difficulties completely.”

I froze. “How do you know about my father?”

“We make it our business to know. Mr. Damien Voss is prepared to offer you a one-year contract marriage. In exchange, all of your father’s medical bills will be covered in full, your sister’s remaining university fees will be paid, and you will receive a monthly allowance of fifteen thousand dollars for the duration of the contract.”

I laughed. It came out broken. “Is this a joke?”

“I never joke about Mr. Voss’s offers, Miss Reed. You have until eight o’clock tonight to decide. A car will be waiting downstairs at seven-thirty if you choose to accept. Come alone.”

The call ended.

I stared at the blank screen. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Damien Voss. Even I, who lived in a rented one-bedroom apartment and ate instant noodles three times a week, knew that name. The youngest CEO in the city’s history. Cold. Untouchable. The manga is called “The Ice King of Voss Empire.”

Why would someone like him need a contract wife? And why me?

I looked at the closed door of Room 407. Then at the bill in my bag. Then at the message from Lila still glowing on my screen.

There was no real choice.

At 7:25 p.m., I stood outside the hospital in my only decent blouse and black pants that had seen better days. A sleek black car pulled up. The driver didn’t speak. He simply opened the back door.

The ride was silent. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. I kept my hands clenched in my lap so he wouldn’t see them shaking.

The car stopped in front of a towering glass building in the heart of the business district. Voss Tower. Of course.

Inside, the lobby was all marble and quiet wealth. A woman in a tailored gray suit was waiting. Evelyn. She looked exactly like her voice sounded precise and emotionless.

“Miss Reed. Follow me.”

We took a private elevator to the top floor. The doors opened directly into an office that felt more like a throne room. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the entire city glittering below. The desk was black and massive. Behind it sat a man who didn’t bother to look up when we entered.

Damien Voss.

Photographs didn’t do him justice. He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered, with sharp features that looked like they had been carved from ice. Dark hair, perfectly styled. A black suit that probably cost more than my entire year’s rent. When he finally lifted his eyes, they were a cold, unreadable gray.

He studied me the way someone might study a slightly interesting insect.

“Leave us,” he said to Evelyn. His voice was deep and flat.

She left without a word. The door clicked shut.

Silence stretched.

I forced myself to speak. “You wanted to see me.”

“I don’t want anything,” he replied. “I need a wife for twelve months. You need money. This is a transaction.”

He slid a thick folder across the desk. “The contract. Read it.”

I sat down because my legs felt weak. The terms were exactly as Evelyn had said, plus more. I would live in his penthouse. Attend every event he requires. Smile for cameras. Share a bed when necessary for appearances. No emotional attachment. No falling in love. At the end of one year, we would divorce quietly, and I would walk away with everything paid and an additional bonus.

In return, I would belong to him for twelve months.

I looked up. “Why me?”

Damien leaned back in his chair. “You have no powerful family to cause problems. You are desperate enough to be obedient. And you are… presentable enough for public appearances.”

Presentable. Not beautiful. Not special. Just good enough.

Something in my chest tightened, but I swallowed it down. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford tonight.

“I’ll sign,” I said.

He raised one eyebrow, the first flicker of expression I’d seen. “You haven’t finished reading.”

“I don’t need to. I already know what I’m selling.”

For a second, something unreadable passed through his eyes. Then it was gone.

He handed me a pen. The weight of it felt heavy in my fingers. I signed my name on the last page without letting my hand shake.

Damien took the contract, checked the signature, and nodded once. “A car will take you home to pack. You move in tomorrow. Be ready at nine.”

I stood. My legs felt distant.

At the door, I paused. “One question.”

He didn’t look up from the papers on his desk. “What?”

“Do you ever smile?”

This time he did look at me. Those cold gray eyes locked onto mine.

“No,” he said simply. “And neither will you, if you know what’s good for you.”

I left the office with the taste of something bitter on my tongue.

Outside, the night air hit my face. The black car was already waiting.

As I slid into the back seat, one thought kept circling in my head like a warning.

I had just sold one year of my life to the coldest man in the city.

And something told me twelve months would feel like a lifetime.