I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I was thinking about Daniel.
That part was easy.
I was done with him.
What kept me awake was Adrian Blackwood.
More specifically, his last words.
Become my wife.
I stared at the ceiling of my mother’s house until sunrise.
It made no sense.
A billionaire had just watched my wedding collapse and somehow decided that marrying me was the solution.
There had to be a reason.
There was always a reason.
By eight in the morning, I had made my decision.
I was going back to his office.
Not because I trusted him.
Because I needed answers.
The Blackwood building looked even more intimidating in daylight.
Glass.
Steel.
Security guards.
People in expensive suits moving through the lobby as if they had never experienced a financial crisis in their lives.
I walked toward the reception desk.
“I’m here to see Adrian Blackwood.”
The receptionist checked her screen.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No.”
She looked up.
“I’m afraid—”
“She’s expected.”
I turned.
Ethan stood several feet behind me.
Same calm expression.
Same perfectly arranged suit.
“You knew I was coming?”
“No.”
“Then how were you expecting me?”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Mr. Blackwood expected that you’d come back.”
I didn’t like that answer.
“Of course he did.”
Ethan gestured toward the elevator.
“This way.”
I followed him upstairs.
When the elevator doors opened, Adrian was standing beside the windows.
He was wearing a black suit without a tie.
He turned when he heard me.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
“Yes.”
I walked toward his desk.
“You have five minutes.”
One eyebrow lifted.
“For what?”
“To convince me you’re not completely insane.”
He almost smiled.
“Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Fine.”
He reached into a folder and pulled out several sheets of paper.
He placed them on the desk.
I looked down.
A contract.
My stomach tightened.
“You actually prepared one.”
“I told you I would.”
“You prepared this before I came here.”
“Yes.”
“That’s disturbing.”
“Efficient.”
I started reading.
One year.
A marriage registered for twelve months.
Separate finances.
Separate bedrooms unless mutually agreed otherwise.
No interference with personal careers.
No public disclosure of private matters without mutual consent.
No forced intimacy.
Either party could terminate the agreement under specific circumstances.
I looked up.
“You included that?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you should never be required to do anything you don’t want to do.”
That answer surprised me.
I looked back at the contract.
“You really expect me to marry you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He was silent.
“That’s the question you keep avoiding.”
“I have reasons.”
“Then tell me.”
“Not yet.”
I laughed.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
I turned another page.
There was one clause that made me stop.
Elena Carter retains complete control over her personal property, professional decisions, and financial accounts.
I looked at him.
“You’re giving me financial independence.”
“You already have it.”
“My family doesn’t.”
“You are not your family.”
Something about those words hit harder than it should have.
For years, everyone had treated me like a Carter first and Elena second.
Daniel had wanted the Carter name.
My father had wanted me protected from the Carter collapse.
Even Sophia had spent years comparing herself to me because of our family.
Adrian was the first person who had said it so simply.
You are not your family.
I swallowed.
“What do you get?”
His expression became unreadable.
“A wife.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It is.”
“No one like you does anything without getting something in return.”
His eyes held mine.
“You’re right.”
I waited.
He didn’t continue.
“So there is something.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You’ll know when you’re ready.”
I almost tore the contract in half.
“You want me to sign a marriage agreement without telling me why you need me?”
“I want you to have the option to say no.”
“And if I say no?”
“Nothing happens.”
“Daniel comes after me.”
“I’ll still protect you.”
“Why?”
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
Then the wall returned.
“Because I gave you my word.”
I stared at him.
The strangest thing was that I believed him.
Not completely.
Not enough to trust him.
But enough to know he meant it.
I picked up the pen.
Adrian watched me.
I signed.
My hand didn’t shake.
His didn’t either.
When I pushed the contract across the desk, he signed his name beneath mine.
Adrian Blackwood.
The signature looked exactly like the man.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Final.
I stood.
“Congratulations.”
He looked up.
“For what?”
“You just acquired a wife.”
His eyes stayed on mine.
“No.”
He stood.
“I didn’t acquire anything.”
He walked around the desk.
“You agreed to marry me.”
There was something different in his voice.
Something almost personal.
I ignored it.
“When does this begin?”
“Today.”
I frowned.
“Today?”
“Today, we file the paperwork. The legal registration will be completed this afternoon.”
My eyes widened.
“You’ve already arranged that?”
“I told you. I prepared for this.”
“And tonight?”
“Tonight you move into my house.”
I stared at him.
“You really planned everything.”
“Only the parts I could control.”
That answer bothered me more than it should have.
He picked up his phone.
“Ethan.”
The door opened almost immediately.
“Yes, sir.”
“Prepare the house.”
Ethan looked at me.
Then at Adrian.
“For tonight?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward Adrian.
“Wait.”
He looked at me.
“You said one year.”
“I did.”
“And I have to move into your house?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
I stared at him.
He walked past me.
“Pack a bag.”
“Adrian.”
He stopped.
“You’ll move into my house tonight.”
For some reason, those words felt less like an order than a warning.
I had no idea which was more dangerous.