Cameron's office is colder than Scarlett remembers.
The skyline stretches behind him like a kingdom he owns. He sits perfectly still in his chair, fingers steepled, watching her with the same expression someone might use to watch a spreadsheet.
She feels his indifference like a weight.
"Sit," he says, not looking up from his desk.
Scarlett sits. Her hands are shaking. She clasps them together to hide it.
Cameron slides a stack of papers across the desk. The contract. She can see her name typed at the top. Scarlett Mitchell. As if this is real. As if she's really about to sign away whatever's left of herself.
"The terms are straightforward," Cameron says. His voice is smooth and detached, like he's reading a grocery list. "We announce the engagement in two weeks. You'll attend events with me. You'll be photographed. You'll smile for the press. During those appearances, you'll act like a woman in love with me."
Scarlett's stomach twists.
"Outside those events," he continues, "you maintain distance. No unexpected visits. No calls unless absolutely necessary. No discussions about my personal life or my business dealings. You don't ask questions. You don't pry. You exist as a component of my public image and nothing more."
Component. Not person. Component.
Scarlett forces herself to look at the contract. Her eyes scan the paragraphs until she finds the numbers. Monthly salary. It's more than she's made in a year. There's a housing allowance. A wardrobe budget. A security detail paid for.
Her breath catches.
This amount of money means she never sleeps in a car again. It means she eats three meals a day. It means she survives.
"The engagement lasts a minimum of three months," Cameron says. "Maximum of six, depending on how quickly my reputation recovers. At the end of the contract, we'll announce an amicable separation. You'll sign an NDA regarding our arrangement. You'll never speak about this to anyone."
"And if I refuse," Scarlett hears herself ask.
Cameron finally looks at her. His eyes are stone.
"Then you drive back to your car and continue living as you are. Those are your options."
The cruelty isn't intentional. It's worse than that. It's just fact. He's stating reality without emotion. She can have money or she can have nothing. Those are the only choices available to someone like her.
Scarlett reads the first page of the contract. Legal language. Confidentiality clauses. Penalty provisions if she speaks to the press. Requirements for her appearance at events. Restrictions on her social media. Everything is controlled. Everything is specified.
She feels caged before she's even signed.
"I have a question," she says quietly.
Cameron waits. He doesn't encourage the question. He just waits like he's prepared for interruptions.
"Why me?" Scarlett asks. "You could hire anyone. Someone without a scandal. Someone without baggage. Why choose someone whose reputation is already destroyed?"
For a moment, something flickers across Cameron's face. Something like respect. Then it's gone.
"Because you have nothing to lose by being seen with me," he says. "You're already at the bottom. Your reputation can't fall further. That makes you useful. A woman with something to protect would worry about being associated with me. You won't."
The honesty is brutal.
Scarlett looks back at the contract. She thinks about Elle in the car downstairs. She thinks about the shelter doors slamming in her face. She thinks about her father's lawyers controlling her future. She thinks about forty-seven pounds and an empty tank of petrol.
She picks up the pen Cameron has placed next to the papers.
"Before I sign," Scarlett says, "I need to know. Is there someone else?"
Cameron's jaw tightens slightly. "That's not relevant to this arrangement."
"It is to me," Scarlett says. She doesn't know where this courage is coming from. "If I'm playing your fiancée, people will expect you to act like you care about me. If you're in love with someone else, I need to know how far I have to pretend."
The silence stretches between them. Scarlett watches his expression carefully. He's deciding whether to answer. Whether she deserves the truth.
"No," he says finally. "There's no one else."
Scarlett doesn't believe him. But she doesn't have the strength to push further.
She puts the pen to paper. Her signature feels like a betrayal of herself. But she signs her name anyway. Once. Twice. Initial here. Sign here. Initial there.
With each signature, she feels a piece of herself disappearing.
The final page is done. She's officially sold three to six months of her life to a man who looks at her like she's furniture.
"You'll move into the apartment we've arranged tomorrow," Cameron says, already moving on. "Your wardrobe will be delivered by Thursday. You'll receive a security detail briefing on Friday. The announcement happens Monday morning. We'll be photographed together at the Ashford Foundation gala on Saturday night. You'll need to look like you're happy to be with me."
"I can do that," Scarlett says, though she's not sure it's true.
Cameron leans back in his chair. "Good. Then I think we're done here. My assistant will give you the apartment details on your way out."
Scarlett stands. The meeting is over. She feels like she should say something, but there's nothing to say to a man made of ice.
She's almost at the door when his phone buzzes.
He looks at the screen. His entire body goes rigid. She watches his hand move to the phone like it's pulled by a string he can't control.
"I need to take this," he says, his voice different. Softer. Warmer than she's heard it.
Scarlett sees the caller ID before he swipes to answer.
Victoria.
The name alone changes him. His shoulders relax. His expression opens like a door. When he speaks into the phone, his voice is filled with something Scarlett recognizes immediately.
Care. Attention. Affection.
"Hello," he says, and the single word contains everything he's refused to give her.
Scarlett stands frozen in the doorway. She watches him turn away from her, phone pressed to his ear, and become someone else entirely. Someone human. Someone capable of warmth.
"Of course I can help," he's saying into the phone. "Tell me what you need."
Victoria needs something. And Cameron is listening like she's the only person in the world.
Scarlett walks out of the office on numb legs. In the elevator, she stares at her reflection in the polished steel doors. She looks like the same girl who walked in. But something is different. Something broke.
She just signed a contract to be fake-engaged to a man who's clearly in love with someone else.
And worse. Worse than the contract. Worse than the money. Worse than everything.
When he looked at Victoria's name on that phone screen, something inside Scarlett shattered into pieces.
Because she finally understands what she's actually agreed to.
She's going to fall in love with him. Completely. Dangerously. Without protection.
And he's going to spend every moment pushing her away while giving everything to Victoria.
This isn't a fake engagement.
This is slow destruction.
And Scarlett has already signed her name to it.