Chapter 2

He poured more champagne. Music played low. The air shimmered with something electric.

“I feel like I just stepped into a movie,” Cora murmured.

Harvey handed her a pen.

“What’s this?”

“Let’s play a game,” he said, laying out a document on a glass table. “Let’s pretend. A contract. One year of your life. A joke, of course. But humor me.”

Cora laughed, tipsy and light-headed. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

She skimmed it, the words blurring. It was absurd. Marriage, terms, benefits, control.

“You’re crazy.”

“Maybe. But you’re curious.”

And she was. So, with a theatrical flourish, she signed it. “There. Happy?”

Harvey raised his glass. “Ecstatic.”

Soon, everything went dim and she fell asleep.

Cora woke up to unfamiliar light. Soft, golden, filtered through sheer curtains that swayed with the wind. Her head throbbed, and her body felt like it had been swallowed by silk.

The first thing she noticed was the bed, massive, with ivory sheets that smelled of something expensive and foreign. The second thing was that she wasn’t alone.

Harvey stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, his silhouette framed by the skyline. He wore only a pair of tailored slacks, his shirt discarded somewhere.

His back was straight, arms crossed, posture unreadable. There was an eerie calm about him, like he could wait forever without speaking.

She sat up with a start, the memories from the night before slamming into her all at once. The club, the drinks, the laughter, the stupid contract, her signature.

“Oh God,” she whispered, pressing a hand to her temple.

Harvey turned, his gaze didn’t flicker with surprise or concern. “Good morning.”

Cora pulled the sheet tighter around herself. “Where’s my phone?”

“I had it placed in the guest suite,” he said evenly. “You were in no condition to travel last night.”

“You drugged me?”

His expression didn’t change. “No. You drank freely. I merely gave you a place to sleep it off.”

The humiliation stung worse than the headache. She swung her legs over the bed, scanning the room for her clothes.

“You signed it,” Harvey said quietly.

Cora froze. “The contract?”

He nodded once. “It was meant to be a joke. But a signed contract is a signed contract. And I don't leave loose ends.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Harvey walked toward her slowly, like a predator who knew the prey had nowhere to go. He stopped a few feet away and held up a tablet. On the screen was video footage — her laughing, teasing, signing the contract, and kissing him like the world would end if she didn’t.

Her stomach twisted. “That doesn’t mean anything. I was drunk.”

“The law doesn’t care about your blood-alcohol level when your signature is this clean.”

She snatched the tablet, trying to make sense of the text. It was detailed, grotesquely so. Marriage. One year. No divorce clause. Financial benefits in exchange for appearances. Obedience. Spousal obligations. It read like a parody, except she had signed it.

“This is insane,” she muttered. “I’ll get a lawyer. I’ll have it voided.”

“I have fifty lawyers. Yours won’t stand a chance.”

“I didn’t consent—”

“You did.” His voice was steel. “You consented, and the footage proves it. If you walk away, this gets leaked. The world sees you in my bed, in my arms, and laughing about how ‘funny’ it all is. You lose whatever’s left of your reputation.”

Tears burned behind her eyes, but she blinked them away. “What do you want from me?”

“I want control,” he said, stepping closer. “Of you.”

She backed away. “You’re psychotic.”

He smirked. “You’ll be compensated, handsomely of course. Your brother’s medical bills, gone. Your debts, erased. You get your own space, wardrobe, resources. In return, you’ll do what I say, when I say it, for one year. Then, you walk away. Free.”

Cora sat heavily on the edge of the bed, heart pounding. The room felt like it was closing in. “This isn’t a marriage. It’s slavery.”

“No,” Harvey said, his tone cooling even further. “It’s a contract. You’re free to leave, but you won’t like the cost.”

Later that morning, Cora stood in front of a mirror in the guest suite. Her makeup from the night before had smudged under her eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess. But beneath the surface, she saw something else — fury, humiliation, and worst of all, curiosity.

Why her? Why had this man, with all his power and options, singled her out?

The door creaked. A woman entered, poised, professional, carrying a tray with coffee and breakfast. “Miss Black,” she said. “Mr. Harvey asked that I bring you this.”

“Who are you?” Cora asked.

“My name is Audrey. I’ll be your personal assistant during your stay.”

“Stay? I’m not staying. I’m leaving.”

The woman gave her a polite smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Of course. When you’re ready.”

Back in the living room, Harvey was on a phone call in a language she didn’t recognize. He gestured for her to sit but she didn’t.

He hung up. “I arranged for Kyle to receive advanced care at St. Andrews, full coverage, no waiting list. Immediate treatment.”

She stared at him. “You didn’t.”

“I did.”

He slid a folder toward her. It held proof payment receipts, scheduling, transfer forms.

“Why are you doing this?”

Harvey sat back, folding his hands. “Because I can. And because I need a solution to a problem. You are a beautiful, unknown, ordinary girl with no ties. You’re perfect.”

“For what?”

He smiled faintly. “To be my wife.”

Cora stared down at the folder. Her world had spun off its axis.