Chapter 2

Nichole's POV

The silence in Regaleon Knight’s office wasn’t the respectful kind. It was the kind that precedes an execution.

“I have two questions for you, Miss Chen,” he began, his voice flat, devoid of the annoyance he’d shown moments ago. He didn’t sit behind his massive desk; he perched on the corner of it, leaning in just enough to feel intimidating. It was a performance, and I was the reluctant audience.

I forced myself to sit upright in the plush chair, trying to channel the last vestiges of my fury, but desperation kept crowding in. I swallowed hard.

“I applied because Knight Industries is the only place in the city that funds the kind of bio-engineering projects I specialize in,” I stated, keeping my voice level. “And I broke in because your HR department has rejected me three times, despite my thesis being directly applicable to your new Robotics Division. The first two questions are actually one question, Mr. Knight: I came here because your system is broken, and I am not.”

He steepled his fingers, the movement slow and deliberate, and a flicker of something—not amusement, but perhaps interest—crossed his face.

“You assume competence entitles you to attention, Miss Chen. That is a naive perspective in this world. Competence is cheap.Leverage is everything.”

“I have no leverage,” I admitted, the heat in my face returning. “I have a dying father and a $2 million hole in the floor of my life.That’s why I broke your door.”

The number hung in the air, heavy and shameful. I hadn't meant to blurt it out, but the pressure of his gaze was like a physical weight.

The $2 million. It was the cost of the cutting-edge, experimental treatment Dad needed, the one his insurance laughed at.

The hospital was sympathetic but relentless.

Leon didn't flinch. He didn't offer a platitude.

He just processed it. His expression remained utterly neutral, like a high-end Windows XP loading screen stuck on the most complex calculation ever conceived.

I watched his brain work, stripping away my emotion to get to the core data: need, debt, desperation.

“Two million dollars,” he repeated, his voice barely a murmur.He stood, walked to the panoramic window, and looked out over the city as if the answer lay somewhere between the financial district and the harbor.

My mouth was dry. I wished I could take the number back, wished I could retract the admission of my catastrophic vulnerability.

He now knew exactly where to stab. He turned back, and the air shifted. The interrogation was over.

The negotiation had begun.

“I don’t require a bio-engineer right now, Miss Chen,” he said, walking back toward the desk, pulling a document from a side drawer. It looked like a standard non-disclosure agreement, except it was bound in deep navy leather. “I require a fiancée.”

I stared at him. The thought was so absurd, so far outside the realm of my reality, that I actually checked the door to make sure no one else had heard him.

“A what?”

“A fiancée,” he repeated, laying the document flat on the table.“A temporary, publicly acceptable partner. Six months. I have a situation requiring I appear settled, committed, and absolutely above reproach. It’s an image problem, and you, Miss Chen, are a clean slate with a very large, pressing problem that requires capital injection.”

I started to laugh, a dry, hysterical sound that tasted like ash.

“You think I’m going to be your prop? You think I’m going to pretend to love you so you can land a land deal or whatever billionaire nonsense this is?”

“I don’t think. I know. Because the alternative is watching your father die while you battle the hospital for payment extensions,” he countered, hitting me with a brutal efficiency that left me breathless.

He began outlining the terms, his voice like a corporate memo:

“One. The term is six months. We announce the engagement next week. There will be an appropriate public romance narrative. We will be convincing. You will smile. You will wear my ring.”

“Two. There are to be zero real feelings. Zero personal expectations. We are business associates only. Discretion is absolute. We share no physical intimacy; we share only a stage.”

“Three. The compensation. I will immediately deposit an amount sufficient to cover your father’s outstanding debt and the projected cost of the Meritus treatment, plus a retainer for six months of your public service. Consider two million dollars settled immediately.”

He paused, letting the figure sink in. Two million dollars.

The impossible sum, the mountain I couldn't climb, just offered up as a bargaining chip for a fake engagement.

My mind screamed. This is insane.

This is selling your soul. This is the plot of a terrible romance novel.

My heart countered. This is $2 million.

This is your dad walking out of that hospital. This is life.

I looked at the navy document, then at Leon. His expression was still cold, still calculating, offering me life in exchange for a contract.

“What if I refuse?” I whispered.

“Then you lose two minutes of my time and are escorted out by security, still facing a massive debt and a very sick father,” he said simply. He didn't threaten me; he just pointed out the reality of my failure.

I didn’t need to read the fine print. I knew the fine print was him.

I walked to the table, picking up the pen he offered, which was absurdly heavy and expensive. My hand shook as I scrawled my signature—Nickie Chen—on the bottom line.

It felt less like signing a contract and more like signing away my identity.

The moment the ink was dry, he took the pen and clipped it back into his jacket pocket. He picked up the contract, folding it once, cleanly, and placing it next to his suit on the chair.

He looked down at me, and his eyes, for the first time, held something like recognition, a cold awareness of the absolute power he had just acquired.

“From this moment on,” he murmured, low and cold, the words meant only for me, “you belong to my world.”

I felt a sudden, dizzying drop, like the elevator was falling again.I realized I had just signed a paper to save my father, but I had absolutely no idea what kind of monster’s world I had just stepped into.