ซ่งหลิง เป็นคู่หมั้นของรัชทายาทช่างยากลำบากยิ่งนัก

ELENA

Three days.

That was all the time I had left.

Three days before my landlord changed the locks on our apartment. Three days before my brother's medical treatment was postponed again. Three days before everything I'd spent years trying to hold together finally collapsed.

I stared at my phone.

₱847.25.

That was my entire bank balance.

I locked my phone and dropped it onto the tiny coffee-shop table.

"This is hopeless."

"Talking to your phone won't make you richer."

I looked up.

Mia sat across from me, pushing a cup of coffee toward me.

"You look terrible."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

She pulled a folded piece of paper from her handbag.

"I found you a job."

I unfolded it.

PERSONAL ASSISTANT WANTED.

Excellent salary. Immediate employment.

Discretion required.

Interview by invitation only.

There was no company name.

No website.

No detailed description.

Just an address.

I stared at the salary.

My eyes widened.

"This can't be real."

"Probably not."

"Then why are you giving it to me?"

"Because you're desperate."

I sighed.

"That's encouraging."

Mia smiled.

"Go to the interview."

I looked at the address.

It was in the richest part of the city.

"Tonight?"

"Tonight."

I should have said no.

Instead, I nodded.

The address led me to a mansion.

Not a house.

A mansion.

Black gates surrounded the enormous property. Security cameras were mounted along the walls. Several black SUVs sat in the driveway.

Men in suits watched every movement.

I stood outside the gate wondering whether I should turn around.

"This is how people disappear in crime movies."

Before I could leave, one of the guards approached.

"Ms. Rossi?"

I swallowed.

"Yes."

"Mr. De Luca is expecting you."

The gate opened.

I walked inside.

Every instinct told me to run.

But Noah needed his treatment.

So I kept walking.

Inside, the mansion was even more intimidating.

Marble floors. Crystal chandeliers. Dark wood. Expensive paintings.

It didn't feel like someone's home.

It felt like a fortress.

A man in a black suit led me down a hallway.

"Who exactly am I meeting?" I asked.

"Adrian De Luca."

The name sounded familiar.

Then it hit me.

The De Luca family.

I'd heard rumors.

Powerful.

Dangerous.

Untouchable.

I stopped.

The man looked back.

"You don't know who he is?"

"I know now."

He opened the doors.

"He's waiting."

I entered.

The doors closed behind me.

And then I saw him.

Adrian De Luca stood beside the window.

Black suit.

Black hair.

Cold eyes.

He looked nothing like the terrifying criminal I'd imagined.

He looked worse.

He looked completely calm.

His gaze moved over me.

"You are Elena Rossi."

"Yes."

"You applied for the position of personal assistant."

"Yes."

"Sit."

I sat.

He opened a folder.

My folder.

"You graduated with honors."

"Yes."

"You've worked four jobs."

"Yes."

"You have a younger brother."

I stiffened.

"How do you know that?"

"I know everything about people who enter my house."

He closed the folder.

Then pushed another document toward me.

I looked down.

My heart stopped.

MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

I looked at him.

"I'm sorry?"

"Read it."

"You want me to marry you?"

"Yes."

I laughed nervously.

He didn't.

"You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Why?"

"I need a wife."

"Then find one."

"I already did."

He pointed at me.

"You."

I stood.

"Thank you for the interview."

"Five million dollars."

I stopped.

"What?"

"Five million dollars."

My heart pounded.

"For one year."

He explained the arrangement.

A temporary marriage.

Public appearances.

Living in his mansion.

A perfect performance.

At the end of twelve months, I would receive five million dollars.

I stared at the contract.

"What are the rules?"

"No interfering in my business. No talking to the media. You don't leave the city without telling me."

"And?"

"You sleep in your room."

I nodded.

"And rule five?"

His eyes locked onto mine.

"You don't fall in love with me."

I almost laughed.

"That won't be a problem."

I picked up the pen.

I signed.

Elena Rossi.

The moment I finished, the doors burst open.

A man rushed inside.

"Boss."

Adrian stood.

"What happened?"

"The warehouse was attacked."

"How many?"

"Three dead. Two injured."

I felt sick.

"And the woman?"

The man hesitated.

"She's missing."

Adrian's face changed.

"The woman who was supposed to marry you," the man continued.

I slowly looked at Adrian.

He looked at me.

Fear flashed in his eyes.

"From this moment on," he said, "you don't go anywhere without security."

"Why?"

His voice dropped.

"Because whoever took my intended wife..."

He paused.

"...will come looking for her replacement."

My blood ran cold.

I'd signed the contract.

And suddenly, five million dollars felt like a death sentence.