FIVE

Delilah's pov

“Marry me.”

I froze. The air in the sitting room was suddenly replaced with a weird energy. The words seemed so out of place, echoing in the space between us.

"Marry me," Calix repeated, calmly like he was asking what my favorite food was.

My first thought was that I’d misheard him, that the stress of the past few days was finally catching up to me. A laugh escaped me before I could stop it. Then, it became a nervous, almost hysterical giggle, unlike my usual laugh, and it felt completely foreign to my ears.

“Mr. Knight,” I finally said with a disbelieving smile playing on my face. “That’s… that’s a good joke. Are you trying to lighten the mood? Because honestly, it’s working.” I waited, a knot of nervousness tightening in my stomach. I expected him to smirk or chuckle and say it was a joke.

But Calix Knight didn't laugh. His hazel eyes were fixed on me, unblinking. His expression was serious. He didn’t blink. I didn’t flinch.

"I'm not."

I blinked. Twice. My voice came out flatter than I meant. "You're actually serious?"

“I assure you, Delilah, I am not joking. Let me make you a proposition.”

My smile faltered, then vanished entirely. A chill ran down my spine. “A… proposition?” I repeated my voice barely a whisper.

Calix’s gaze felt like a physical weight holding me in place. “I need a wife. Immediately.”

I’d not even done the interview to know if I’d get the job. He hadn’t even bothered to ask about my cooking.

"My original fiancée backed out," he continued. "Three days ago. I need a wife to finalize a merger worth over a billion dollars. The board expects to meet her at the gala Saturday night."

My jaw dropped. "You haven’t even asked if I can cook."

"I don’t care if you can cook."

"Unbelievable."

He stayed infuriatingly level. "I need someone presentable and capable of adapting under pressure."

“But… why?” I asked, desperate to understand what was going on. “Why me? I’m… supposed to be your new cook. I just got here. You don’t even know me.” My voice rose slightly.

“I know who you are, Delilah. You're Julian's wife. Or should I say ex-wife since you’re here in New York looking for a job?"

That hit like a slap.

My lips parted, but no words came.

He didn’t stop. "I did a thorough background check on you and read your file. I’ve even seen your wedding photos."

My cheeks flushed in humiliation and fury at the same time. "You really did your research, didn’t you? What else did the background check include?"

"I don’t care about your marriage to Julian or why it ended."

I grabbed my bag; fingers clenched so tight the handles creaked. "You think I’m desperate enough to fake-marry some emotionally constipated billionaire so that he can get a fancy merger bonus? Well, you are mistaken. I have never been and will never be that desperate. "I turned sharply, intending to walk out on him and his chilling audacity.

“One million dollars,” Calix’s calm, unwavering voice stopped me cold.

I paused, my hand already on the cool metal doorknob. I didn’t turn around. “Excuse me?” My voice was tight, barely a breath.

“I’m offering one million dollars for a six-month arrangement,” he continued. “A fake marriage. A business arrangement. Purely transactional. No sex, no emotional entanglement. You attend the necessary public appearances, act the part of my devoted wife for a limited duration, and at the end of six months, you walk away with one million dollars. And a generous non-disclosure agreement, of course.”

The silence that followed was almost deafening. The coldness of his offer, the way he reduced me to a desperate human, was so annoying. How he laid out the terms for the deal, felt insulting, yet…

One million dollars. The money was a huge one, beyond my wildest dreams. It was more money than I could ever hope to earn in a lifetime. It was more than enough to build a new life and have my revenge on Julian.

“I… I need time to think,” I finally managed, my voice strained. Without another word, I turned the doorknob and stumbled out of his sitting room, his words still ringing. I walked through the hallway and out of the gate into the bustling New York street in a daze.

That night, in my cheap hotel room, which smelled like stale coffee and cheap floor cleaners, the fluorescent light cast a small yellow glow on me as I lay on the mattress.

I could still hear Calix’s voice echoing in my head. One million dollars. Six months. No sex. No emotions.

My eyes drifted to the corner where my bag sat. I sat up with a sigh. I unzipped the side pocket and pulled out the envelope containing the last of my money. I counted it. Again. Even though I already knew.

It wasn't enough to last another week, certainly not enough to secure a decent apartment.

My gaze drifted to the cracked mirror above the dresser. I looked exhausted, my blonde hair dull, my blue eyes haunted and shadowed.

My throat tightened as Julian’s assistant’s words returned to me.

Useless.

I closed my eyes. My pride screamed for me to throw my phone across the room.

The humiliation, the raw pain of that moment, resurfaced with agonizing clarity. Julian had never truly seen me, not past the surface. He’d seen a simple, compliant wife.

At least Calix Knight saw me as something of value – a solution to his problem. A means to an end. It was transactional, yes, but it wasn't a lie. He wasn't pretending to offer me love or affection; he was offering me a way out. A very, very expensive way out.

I thought of the million dollars. It wasn't just money. It was freedom. It was security. It was the ability to stand on my own two feet, stronger and more financially stable than I had ever been, even with Julian. It was my chance to prove to myself and the world that I was anything but useless. That I could survive and even thrive on my own terms.

With that thought, I fell back to the mattress and slept off.

The next morning, as soon as I woke up, I picked up my phone. My hand trembled slightly as I dialed the number that the agency had provided and that belonged to Calix. It rang once, and then he answered on the second ring.

“Calix Knight.”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Mr. Knight,” I said, my voice free of the fear and hesitation I still felt deep inside. “This is Delilah. I’ve made my decision.” I paused, then uttered the words that would irrevocably change the course of my life. “I’ll marry you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, he said, “Good.”

My fear got the better part of me, and I hung up without saying another word.

Outside, a car honked somewhere in the distance.

But all I could hear was the ticking of the clock and the countdown to what would either be the biggest mistake or the smartest move of my life.