Alyssa opened the door.
Alexander was leaning against the wall across from her, his hands in his pockets.
He looked up as she stepped out.
She was fully dressed now.
A simple but elegant dress that fit her perfectly.
Light makeup on her face.
Her hair was brushed and falling softly around her shoulders.
Alexander’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.
“Can we leave now?” he asked.
“Yes,” Alyssa said quietly.
She stepped out of the room, and he fell into step beside her.
In the bathroom earlier, she had nearly choked when she saw the label on the dress.
Dior.
She had seen that dress in magazines.
On celebrities walking red carpets.
It cost more than her rent.
This dress alone is three months of my salary.
She had put it on carefully, like it was made of glass.
I better not stain this cloth.
Now, standing in the elevator next to Alexander, she kept her hands at her sides, afraid to touch anything.
The elevator descended in silence.
They reached the ground floor and walked toward the entrance.
A black Range Rover was waiting at the door.
Sleek.
Expensive.
Spotless.
A young man in a suit rushed toward Alexander.
“Sir, we have twenty minutes left.”
Alyssa’s eyes darted between the strange man and Alexander.
Twenty minutes for what?
“Get in the car,” Alexander said to her.
The young man opened the back door.
Alyssa hesitated for only a second before sliding inside.
The leather seats were soft and warm.
The car smelled like new money.
Alexander got in beside her.
The door closed.
The ride was silent.
No one spoke.
The young man in the front seat kept his eyes on the road.
Alexander looked out the window, his expression unreadable.
Alyssa clutched her hands in her lap, her heart pounding.
This is really happening.
The car stopped in front of the Marriage Bureau.
It was a modest building.
The kind of place where lives changed in quiet, unremarkable ways.
Alyssa and Alexander got out.
They walked inside together.
The process was quick.
Too quick.
Papers were signed.
Names were recorded.
A seal was stamped.
Alyssa Moore was written into Alexander Blackwood’s family register.
And just like that, she was married.
She walked out of the building with the marriage certificate in her hand.
It felt heavier than it looked.
Her phone rang.
She looked at the caller ID.
Lisa. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Oh no.
She was late for her shoot this morning.
She had completely forgotten.
She picked up the call.
Before she could speak, Lisa’s voice exploded from the other side.
“WHERE ARE YOU?!”
Alyssa winced, holding the phone away from her ear.
Then she smiled.
“Calm down, Lisa.”
Alexander watched her from a few feet away.
He saw the way her face softened when she smiled.
The way her eyes crinkled at the corners.
It was the first time he had seen her smile.
“Alright, I’m on my way,” Alyssa said into the phone.
She hung up and sighed.
Then she turned to Alexander.
“It was my manager. I have to go to work.”
Alexander nodded.
“Mind if I drop you off?”
“No, no. Thank you.”
She said it too quickly.
The truth was, she didn’t want a luxury car pulling up in front of her company.
She didn’t want questions.
She didn’t want attention.
Some actresses would kill for a scandal like this.
A mysterious rich man.
A secret marriage.
It would make headlines.
But Alyssa wanted none of it.
She barely knew this man.
She only knew his name—Alexander Blackwood and that he was clearly some kind of big shot.
She was in this for the money.
That was all.
It’s only for a year, she reminded herself.
I’ll give birth to his child, clear my father’s debt, and give my mother the life she deserves.
That was the plan.
Alexander got into the car.
He looked at her through the open window.
“Prepare your things. Someone will come to pick you up soon. And the money has already been wired to your account.”
Alyssa blinked.
“Already?”
He gave her a small, formal nod.
“Nice doing business with you, Miss Alyssa.”
The window rolled up.
The car pulled away.
Alyssa stood there, watching the Range Rover disappear into traffic.
Her phone buzzed.
A message popped up on the screen.
She looked down, her breath caught in her throat.
How did he get my account number?
She looked up at the car, now a tiny speck in the distance.
Then she looked back at her phone.
200 million.
Sitting in her bank account.
She was rich.
Fucking rich.
She wanted to scream.
She wanted to jump up and down.
She wanted to call her mother and tell her everything was going to be okay.
She clenched her jaw.
She forced herself to stay calm.
Don’t draw attention.
She took a shaky breath.
She had just hit the jackpot.
She glanced back at her phone.
9:46 AM.
Her stomach dropped.
She was supposed to be at the company by 7 AM.
Almost three hours late.
Lisa was going to kill her.
She flagged down a taxi and gave the driver the address.
The ride was tense.
She kept checking the time, watching the minutes slip away.
The taxi stopped in front of the building.
She paid the driver quickly and stepped out.
She walked toward the entrance, her heels clicking against the pavement.
People were looking at her.
Receptionists.
Security guards.
A few actors she recognized from passing in the hallways.
They all stopped and stared as she walked in.
Alyssa’s steps faltered.
Why are they looking at me like that?
She kept walking, forcing herself to stay calm.
She had used foundation to cover the hickey marks Alexander had left on her neck.
She had checked in the bathroom mirror before leaving the hotel.
They were perfectly hidden.
Did I miss a spot?
Is it the dress?
No.
It can’t be the dress.
She stepped into the elevator under the weight of their gazes.
The doors slid shut, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
She pulled a small mirror from her bag and checked her neck again.
Nothing.
The marks were completely covered.
Then why were they all staring at me like I’m an outcast?
The elevator dinged.
The doors opened.
She stepped out and walked toward the office reserved for C-list actors and actresses.
The hallway was quiet.
Her footsteps echoed.
She opened the door.
Lisa was inside, standing by her desk.
She was cleaning her glasses with a cloth, her back turned.
When she heard the door open, she quickly put her glasses back on.
Alyssa walked to her desk and set her bag down.
She sat in her chair, already preparing for the scolding.
“Don’t scold me for coming late, Lisa. I—”
She stopped.
Her eyes locked onto Lisa’s face.
There was a bruise forming on her cheekbone.
Red and purple, spreading like a storm cloud.
Lisa’s hand trembled as she lowered it from her glasses.
Alyssa’s voice dropped.
Her playful tone vanished.
“Who did this to you?”