CHAPTER 8

Elena's POV

I spent an hour in front of my closet at six in the morning, trying to find an outfit that looked like a shield. I finally settled on a structured, dark knee-length dress and a crisp blazer. It was professional, completely buttoned-up, and left no room for vulnerability. I pinned my hair back into a tight, neat bun, applied a light layer of makeup to hide the dark circles under my eyes, and walked out the door.

When I arrived at the executive floor of Wyatt Enterprises, the office was dead quiet. The clock on the wall read 7:30 AM. Most of the corporate staff wouldn't arrive for another hour, which gave me exactly the time I needed.

I walked into the breakroom and set down the heavy manila folder. My hands were steady now, the panic from yesterday replaced by a cold, hard focus. I was here to do a job. I was here to save Chloe.

I located the high-end espresso machine Frank had shown me yesterday. I carefully selected the dark roast beans, watching as the machine ground them down and brewed a rich, dark stream into a clean ceramic mug. No sugar. No milk. Completely black, just like he demanded.

At 7:45 AM, the heavy glass doors of the main suite clicked open. I peeked around the breakroom corner and saw Oliver walk in. He looked completely immaculate in a dark charcoal suit, his coat perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders. He didn't look like a man who had been hosting a party the night before; he looked sharp, alert, and ready to command a room. He walked straight into his private office without looking left or right, closing the door behind him.

I waited. I watched the clock on my computer screen count down the minutes.

7:57.

7:59.

Exactly as the digital clock flipped to 8:00 AM, I picked up the steaming mug of coffee in one hand and the contract folder in the other. I walked over to his door and knocked twice.

"Come in," his voice called out.

I pushed the door open. Oliver was already behind his desk, reviewing a stack of financial documents on his tablet. He looked up, his dark eyes instantly locking onto mine as I walked across the plush carpet.

"Good morning, Mr. Wyatt," I said, setting the steaming mug right beside his tablet. "Your coffee. Black. Exactly at eight."

Oliver glanced at the mug, then back up at me, a tiny, amused shadow of a smile touching his lips. "Perfect timing, Miss Golding. I see you can follow basic instructions."

"I can follow many things, Mr. Wyatt, including a poorly written contract," I said smoothly, stepping back and laying the thick manila folder directly in front of him.

He leaned back in his leather chair, crossing his arms. "Poorly written? It was drafted by the top corporate lawyers in the city."

"Well, your top lawyers clearly don't know anything about real life," I said, opening the folder to the pages I had heavily marked with a pen last night. "I am willing to sign the NDA, and I am willing to play the part of your wife. Your contract states I get one million dollars wired to my account after the marriage certificate is signed, and a final two million dollars after the one-year mark. Three million total. I'm fine with those figures, but I have a major issue with the timing."

Oliver picked up his coffee, taking a slow sip without breaking eye contact. "The timing?"

"Yes. I can't wait until our scheduled wedding day for the initial funds," I said, my voice tight but determined. "The hospital needs a thirty-thousand-dollar deposit by noon *today* to secure Chloe's donor organ. If they don't get it, the surgery is canceled. I need that thirty thousand advanced to me this afternoon."

Oliver leaned forward, resting his elbows on the glossy wood of his desk. He didn't look annoyed; if anything, he looked calculating. "Why take an advance and change the paperwork when we can just solve the problem entirely?"

I blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

"The board meeting is later this afternoon, Elena. Having a marriage certificate in my hand before I walk into that boardroom is the ultimate leverage," Oliver said, a sharp, decisive look entering his eyes. "We aren't waiting. We are going down to the courthouse to sign the papers and get married this morning. The second the certificate is signed, the full one million dollars will be wired straight into your account. You can pay the hospital yourself before the noon deadline."

My jaw dropped slightly. My head spun at the sheer speed at which he operated. "This morning? You want to get married *today*?"

"Why wait? You need the money to secure the surgery by noon, and I need the status locked in before the board meets later today," Oliver said, reaching out to take the pen straight from my hand to sign the modified terms regarding my sister's living arrangements.

As he took the pen, the tips of his fingers brushed firmly against mine.

A sudden, sharp jolt of electricity shot straight up my arm. It felt like an actual physical shock, a strange, heavy warmth that made my breath catch in my throat. I looked up instantly, my eyes meeting his. Oliver paused for a fraction of a second, his gaze dropping to where our hands had touched before he smoothly pulled the document closer to himself.

I quickly stepped back, dropping my hands to my sides and clearing my throat. My heart was racing completely out of rhythm. *It's just stress,* I told myself frantically, trying to shake off the strange sensation. *You haven't slept in two days, your life is a complete mess, and you're about to marry a stranger. Of course you're jumpy.*

Oliver didn't say a word about the sudden shift in the air. He simply signed his name at the bottom of the contract pages in clean, bold strokes, then slid the folder back across the desk toward me.

"Take this to Frank and tell him to clear my schedule for the next two hours," Oliver ordered, his voice entirely back to its business-like, authoritative tone. "Grab your coat, Elena. We're going to get married."