One

Eleanor

When I walked into the Carter Enterprises building that morning, I had no idea my life was about to change forever. My mind was focused on a million things at once: the tight budget, overdue bills, and, of course, my younger sister, Lily, who needed me more than ever.

“Don’t be late, Ellie,” I muttered to myself, adjusting the cheap blazer that felt like it had shrunk in the summer heat. I hurried up the steps of the building, ignoring the receptionist who barely glanced at me. It wasn’t like I was anyone important here—just an architect hired for a project nobody seemed to take seriously.

I had barely set foot in my makeshift office, which was closer to a storage closet than a proper workspace, when my phone started buzzing.

It was a warning.

“Eleanor,” the voice on the other end belonged to Jenna, my best friend who worked in finance at the same company. “They’re coming for you.”

“Who?”

“Harris. He’s trying to pin the project delays on you. Word is, Alexander wants to see you in his office. Like, now.”

Alexander Carter. The CEO. The man in charge.

I swallowed hard, my heart racing as if I were about to run a marathon. There was no reason for him to want to talk to me unless it was to cut my contract—or worse, blame me for something I didn’t do.

“Great,” I muttered, hanging up before Jenna could respond.

Grabbing my papers, I took a deep breath and did what I always do when I’m on the verge of losing control: I lifted my chin and pretended everything was fine.

The walk to the top floor felt endless. Each click of my heels echoed through the luxurious hallways, reminding me how out of place I was in this world. Important people in designer suits carried sleek leather briefcases and walked past me as if I were invisible.

And maybe I was—until now.

When the office door opened, the first thing I saw was him: Alexander Carter.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the entire city. The man looked like he had stepped straight out of a business magazine, immaculate in a dark gray suit, his tie loosened just enough to appear casual yet powerful. His cold, calculating eyes turned to me as I stepped in.

“Ms. Matthews.” His voice was like an electric current, deep and commanding.

“Mr. Carter,” I replied, trying to sound confident, though my throat felt dry.

He motioned for me to sit, but he remained standing, as if he needed to tower over me in every way. I sank into the leather chair, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, while he slowly walked over to his desk.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked, his fingers drumming on the polished wood surface.

“I assume it’s about the project,” I replied, my voice steadier than I expected.

“Correct. The project is behind schedule.”

I tried to take a deep breath, but the tension in the air was suffocating. “With all due respect, Mr. Carter, the delays weren’t my fault. There were material shortages, and the timelines were unrealistic from the start.”

His eyes narrowed, assessing every word that left my mouth. “So you’re saying you’re not to blame?”

“Yes, sir.” My voice didn’t waver, but inside, I was trembling.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes scanning my face as if trying to detect a lie. Then, to my surprise, he gave a faint smile.

“Interesting.” He circled the desk, stopping right in front of me. “I like people who aren’t afraid to stand their ground, Ms. Matthews. But that doesn’t solve the problem.”

I blinked, confused. “Problem?”

“My reputation,” he said simply. “It’s in ruins. My board of directors wants my head because of... let’s say... personal decisions that have gone public.”

I straightened in my seat, still unsure where he was going with this. “What does that have to do with me?”

“You need money, don’t you?”

My heart stopped. He knew? How could he possibly know?

“I... I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.

“Please, Eleanor. Don’t pretend. I see your overtime hours, your patched-up clothes. I know you’re in trouble.”

My cheeks burned, but I held my composure. “And if I am? What does that have to do with you?”

He leaned closer, and for a moment, his presence seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room. “I have a proposal.”

I blinked, trying to process what he was saying. “What kind of proposal?”

“Marry me.”

Those words hung in the air like a bomb that had just gone off.

“Excuse me?”

“Marry me,” he repeated, his expression unwavering. “It’s simple. A one-year arrangement. It’ll calm my board of directors and repair my public image.”

I laughed nervously, as if he were joking. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he said, crossing his arms. “And in return, I’ll pay off all your debts and give you a substantial sum at the end of the agreement.”

“This is... insane.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, with a faint smirk. “But it’s the perfect solution for both of us. You get financial stability, and I get my company back.”

I stared at him, searching for any sign that this was some kind of trick, a cruel joke. But all I saw was determination.

I should have said no. A fake marriage to my boss? It was madness. But as much as the idea of selling my freedom repulsed me, another thought took over: Lily.

“I need time to think,” I muttered, standing on shaky legs.

“You have until tomorrow.”

As I left his office, one question echoed in my mind: how far was I willing to go to save my family?