The First Test

Three weeks? They had never agreed on a date.

Before she could even react, Alexander took her hand, guiding her gently into the back seat of the car. He slid in right beside her and pulled the door shut, cutting off the noise of the media instantly.

The dark windows blocked out the flashing lights outside. The car smoothly pulled away from the curb and entered the heavy city traffic.

Clara turned to him, her breath coming in quick, shallow hitches. "Three weeks? What are you talking about? We never said three weeks!"

Alexander didn't look at her. He pulled out his phone, his thumb sliding across the screen as he checked his emails.

"Three weeks gives us enough time to plan a fake wedding that looks real," Alexander said casually. "Otherwise, the media will know it's a stunt."

"You are changing the terms!" Clara said, her voice trembling with anger. "What else did you change in that contract that I didn't see?"

Alexander paused. Slowly, he locked his phone screen and turned his head to look at her.

"Read page four again when you get to the penthouse, Clara," Alexander said, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. "You read the rules you added. You didn't read the clause I put in before you signed."

Clara’s hands tightened on the smooth leather seat of the SUV. "What clause?"

Alexander didn't answer right away. He simply tucked his phone back into his inner suit pocket, keeping his dark eyes fixed on her.

"You were so focused on your three demands that you didn't check section four, paragraph two," he said smoothly. "It states that during our two years of marriage, any major decision regarding Hayes Architecture's public image must be approved by Sterling Global."

"That is complete control!" Clara said, her voice rising. "I explicitly said you wouldn't run my father's company!"

"And you will run the daily operations," Alexander replied, completely unbothered by her fury. "But the public face of Hayes Architecture is now tied to my name. I will not let your brother's past mistakes ruin a multi-billion-dollar merger."

Clara took a sharp breath, turning her head to stare out the tinted window. She was trapped, and she knew it. He had played her expertly, leaving her just enough room to think she had won something before pulling the net tight.

The SUV stopped in front of her office building twenty minutes later.

"My driver will be back at five," Alexander said as the guard opened her door. "Be downstairs. We have an engagement party to attend tonight."

By six o’clock that evening, Clara found herself standing in front of a grand marble staircase inside the Grand Regency Hotel.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and money. High-society guests in designer gowns filled the massive ballroom. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting a soft, golden light over the crowd.

Clara wore an elegant, midnight-blue silk dress that hugged her frame, her hair swept up in a loose bun. She looked like she belonged here, but inside, her stomach was in knots. She kept her chin high, refusing to let any of the wealthy onlookers see her stress.

Alexander walked beside her, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back. He wore a crisp black tuxedo that made his broad shoulders look even more commanding. Every time they passed a group of wealthy guests, people bowed their heads or stepped aside, whispering quietly among themselves.

"Smile, Clara," Alexander murmured, leaning down slightly so only she could hear him. "You look like you're heading to an execution."

"That's because I feel like I am," she muttered back through a polite, fake smile.

"Keep up the act for two hours," he said. "That is all I ask."

Before Clara could reply, a tall man with slicked-back hair and a sharp, sneering grin stepped into their path, holding a glass.

"Alexander," the man said, his voice dripping with false friendliness. "I heard the news on the radio. I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes."

Alexander’s expression instantly turned cold, his posture shifting into something far more dangerous. "Marcus."

Marcus Vance was the heir to Vance Holdings, Sterling Global's biggest corporate rival. His eyes slid over to Clara, scanning her with an insulting smirk.

"So this is the girl," Marcus said, taking a slow sip. "Clara Hayes. The daughter of the late, great Arthur Hayes. I was surprised when I heard you bought out her firm's trash debt. I thought you only invested in things that actually had value."

Clara felt a flush of anger hit her cheeks. She took a step forward. "My father's firm has built half the iconic landmarks in this city, Mr. Vance. Our value isn't measured by a temporary bad loan."

Marcus chuckled patronizingly. "Your brother nearly put your entire family in prison, sweetie. You're living on borrowed time and Alexander's pocket change."

Clara opened her mouth to snap back, but before she could utter a word, Alexander stepped firmly between them.

The warmth left the air around them instantly. Alexander lowered his head slightly, locking his dark eyes onto Marcus. His presence was so heavy, so threatening, that Marcus’s smirk wavered.

"Watch your tongue, Marcus," Alexander said, his voice dropping to a low, icy quiet that cut through the noise of the music around them.

"I'm just speaking the truth, Sterling," Marcus said, taking a small step back. "It’s a bad investment."

"Hayes Architecture is under my protection now," Alexander said, stepping closer into Marcus's personal space until the taller man had to look up. "Which means Clara Hayes is under my protection. If you insult my future wife or her father's name again, I will buy out Vance Holdings' debt by Monday morning and bankrupt your entire family before Friday."

Marcus froze. The color drained completely from his face. He knew Alexander wasn't making an empty threat; Sterling had the capital to do it without breaking a sweat.

"Enjoy the party," Alexander added coldly, turning his back on the man.

Marcus swallowed hard, turned on his heel, and hurried off into the crowd without another word.

Clara stared at Alexander in shock. She hadn't expected him to defend her father's honor so ruthlessly in front of half the city's elite.

"You didn't have to do that," Clara whispered as they walked toward a quiet corner near the terrace doors. "I can fight my own battles."

"He was testing me, not you," Alexander said, his voice returning to its usual calm tone. "If I let him disrespect you, it makes me look weak."

He took her hand and led her out onto the quiet, breezy balcony away from the crowded room. The night air was cool against Clara's skin.

"The car will take us to the penthouse in twenty minutes," Alexander said, leaning his arm against the stone railing.

Alexander turned to face her fully, stepping into her space. He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a stray lock of dark hair that had fallen near her cheek, tucking it behind her ear.

"Lock your room if you want," Alexander murmured, his dark eyes searching her face in the moonlight. "It won't change the fact that you belong to this deal now."

Before Clara could argue, heavy footsteps came down the outdoor hallway. An older man in a tailored suit stepped onto the terrace, holding a thick yellow envelope in his hand.

"Mr. Sterling," the man said urgently, ignoring Clara completely. "We have a massive problem. The private investigator just sent over the full report on Arthur Hayes' final projects."

Alexander's hand froze near Clara's face. His eyes narrowed instantly. "I told you to handle that tomorrow, Thomas."

"I couldn't wait," Thomas insisted, holding out the envelope. "The blueprints your board found ten years ago... Arthur Hayes didn't just design them. He built a hidden vault beneath the Sterling Global building before he died."