CHAPTER 3

As she stepped onto the busy sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, she collided with a solid chest. Strong hands steadied her shoulders before she could stumble.

She looked up — straight into stormy gray eyes.

Adrian Voss stood there, looking down at her with that same calm, calculated intensity.

“Miss Lang,” he said, voice low and controlled. “Going somewhere?”

Elena’s heart slammed against her ribs. The folder in her bag suddenly felt heavier.

She pulled away from his touch, irritation flaring. “I was coming to return this,” she said, holding up the thick black folder.

“Your offer is insane. I’m not interested.”

Adrian didn’t move. He simply watched her, silent and unhurried, his stormy gray eyes studying her face like he was measuring exactly how much pressure she could take.

He didn’t chase. He didn’t argue. He just waited.

The silence stretched.

Elena’s pride burned, but the weight of the bills, the eviction notice, and the collapsing business pressed down on her harder with every second.

Finally, she exhaled sharply.

“Fine. Tell me the details. But I’m not saying yes.”

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. He gestured toward the sleek black car waiting at the curb.

“Get in. We’ll talk in my office.”

Elena hesitated, pride warring with desperation. Then she climbed in.

The ride to Voss Tower was silent. Elena sat stiffly, her fingers resting on the folder in her lap, her thoughts running faster than she could control. Every instinct in her told her this was a mistake. But every problem in her life told her she couldn’t afford to walk away.

When they arrived, she stepped out, forcing herself to remain composed as she followed him inside. Everything about the building screamed wealth — quiet, intimidating, untouchable.

By the time they reached his office, Elena had already rebuilt her expression into something steady.

Controlled. She refused to look overwhelmed

.

His office was exactly what she expected — large, sleek, and coldly elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the entire city.

Adrian moved behind his desk like he belonged there. Like he owned everything in sight. Including this situation.

Elena walked forward and sat without waiting to be told.

He picked up the folder and slid it across the glass table toward her.

“Six months,” he said, his voice calm and business-like. “You live with me as my wife. Attend events. Maintain appearances. At the end, you walk away with fifty million dollars. The money will be transferred immediately once the contract ends. Separate bedrooms. No intimacy. No emotional involvement. No unnecessary complications.”

Elena let out a quiet breath, then pushed the folder back toward him. “No,” she said firmly. “I’m not selling myself. I’ll find another way.”

Adrian didn’t react. He didn’t argue. He simply leaned back slightly, arms crossing, his gaze still locked on hers.

Waiting.

The silence stretched longer this time.

He wasn’t going to convince her.

He was going to let her convince herself.

Elena looked away first. Her chest tightened as everything she had been trying to ignore came rushing back at once — the overdue rent, the landlord’s threats, the clients she had lost, the slow collapse of everything she had built.

Her fingers curled slightly.

She was running out of time.

Her gaze shifted back to the folder.

Then stayed there.

Slowly, she reached for it. Her fingers rested on the edge… then tightened.

“Six months…” she murmured under her breath.

Her grip hardened.

Then she looked up at him, her eyes sharper now, more guarded.

“If I agree,” she said, her voice steady, “we do this my way too.”

Adrian didn’t respond immediately.

But something in his gaze shifted.

“Then say your terms,” he said.

And just like that, the balance between them changed.