Grace hadn't left her childhood bedroom in forty-eight hours.
She lay on her bed in the dark, ignoring the phone calls that came in waves. Marcus. Her father. Helena. Vivian, texting apologies that felt like knife wounds delivered gently. The wedding planner, confused about the sudden cancellation. The caterer, asking about the deposit. Each notification was a reminder that her life was unraveling and nobody actually cared about the girl at the center of it all.
She'd texted Lily once: "Everything's fine." A lie so obvious that even her phone seemed to judge her for sending it.
On the morning of day three, the bedroom door slammed open.
Her father stood in the doorway, his face flushed with anger. He wasn't the controlled businessman from his office anymore. He was desperate, which was somehow worse.
"We need to talk," he said.
Grace didn't move from the bed. She'd learned that when her father wanted to talk, what he really wanted was for her to listen. She could do that. She was good at that.
Jonathan crossed the room in three strides and threw a stack of papers onto her chest. They landed hard, scattering across her body like leaves. The top sheet was official and crisp, with a logo she didn't recognize printed at the top in gold lettering.
Sterling Enterprises.
"Read it," Jonathan demanded.
Grace sat up slowly, gathering the papers. They were warm from her father's hands. The first page was dense with legal language, but certain words jumped out at her. Contract. Marriage. One year. Compensation.
Her stomach dropped.
"Sterling Enterprises will inject forty million dollars into Reed Industries," Jonathan said. The words came out fast, desperate. "That's enough to save us. Enough to keep us stable for years. He's a good man. Rich. Powerful. Manhattan's most ruthless CEO, they call him. You should be lucky."
Grace kept reading. Terms and conditions. Public appearances required. No emotional involvement. Separate residences permitted. Upon successful completion of the contract period, Grace would receive five hundred thousand dollars and her freedom.
She was being sold like property at an auction.
"I'm not doing this," Grace said. The words felt strange in her mouth. She'd spent twenty-six years learning not to say no.
Jonathan's face darkened. "You don't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Not you," her father said quietly. "You've already proven you can't make good decisions. You drove Marcus away. You couldn't keep a man interested long enough to get to the altar. What are you going to do now, Grace? Work? For how much? Enough to live on your own? Enough to escape your family?"
He stepped closer to the bed, and Grace forced herself not to flinch.
"You have nowhere to go," Jonathan continued. "No money, no job, no prospects. Your only value to this family is what you can provide. Marcus was that value. He was supposed to secure our future. He was supposed to choose you."
The words landed exactly where they were meant to.
"Now Sebastian Sterling will choose you," Jonathan said. "For one year. He needs a wife for inheritance reasons. You need a way out of this house. It's perfect."
"It's not perfect," Grace whispered. "It's a prison."
"It's salvation," Jonathan snapped. "For me. For Helena. For Vivian. For the three hundred employees of Reed Industries who still have jobs because of Sterling's investment. You're not the only person in the world, Grace. Your family's survival depends on this. Your family's survival depends on you."
That was the thing about manipulation. It always came wrapped in obligation. It always came dressed as love.
Grace looked down at the contract in her hands. Her eyes skipped across paragraphs, landing on words like termination date and compensation and public appearances required and no emotional involvement permitted. She was being offered five hundred thousand dollars to pretend to be married to a stranger for three hundred sixty-five days.
It was the most money she'd ever touched.
It was the loneliest thing she'd ever read.
"I won't do it," Grace said. But even as she said it, she was wondering how she would pay rent. Where she would live. How she would survive the judgment of Manhattan society when her failed engagement became public knowledge. How she would rebuild her life from nothing.
Jonathan pulled out his phone and placed it on the bed beside her. "Sterling's assistant called while you were hiding. He needs an answer by tomorrow. If you decline, the deal falls through. Reed Industries files for bankruptcy within six months. Everyone loses their jobs. And you get to be the girl who destroyed her family because she was too proud to do what needed to be done."
He turned to leave.
"Wait," Grace called out. "How did you even meet him? How did you propose this?"
Jonathan paused at the door. "Sterling and I had a business meeting last month. He mentioned needing a wife for his grandfather's inheritance clause. I mentioned having a daughter. He asked for your picture and information. He reviewed the proposal himself and decided you were suitable."
Suitable. Like she was furniture being ordered online.
"Did he know about Marcus?" Grace asked.
"Of course he knew," Jonathan said. "I told him everything. Told him you were available. Desperate, even. That you'd be compliant and grateful. That you wouldn't make demands or cause problems."
Grace felt something inside her break cleanly in half.
"He wants a wife who knows her place," Jonathan continued. "Someone who understands this is business. Someone who won't develop feelings or expectations. Someone exactly like you."
After he left, Grace sat alone with the contract for a long time. She read every page. She read the legal definitions and the financial terms. She read the section about what would happen if she tried to leave early. Penalty clauses. Non-disclosure agreements. A life essentially locked away for twelve months.
She picked up her phone and searched for Sebastian Sterling.
The images that appeared made her breath catch. He was young, maybe early thirties, with sharp features and colder eyes than any person had a right to have. In every photo, he looked like he owned the people around him. Like he'd built an empire by being willing to do things other people wouldn't.
She read the headlines. "Sterling Enterprises Destroys Competitor in Hostile Takeover." "CEO Sebastian Sterling Overhauls Manhattan Real Estate Market." "The Man Who Built an Empire on His Own Terms."
This wasn't a man who took no for an answer.
This was a man who took everything.
Grace set the contract down and picked up her phone. She should call Lily. She should call someone who would tell her not to do this. Someone who would remind her that she was worth more than her usefulness to other people.
But instead, she opened her notes app and started making a list:
Things I need to survive living with a stranger:
Rules for myselfBoundaries I won't crossWays to make myself invisibleHow to be the kind of wife he expects
She'd spent her whole life preparing for this. Learning to be quiet. Learning to accommodate. Learning to make herself smaller so there would be room for everyone else's needs.
She was going to be very, very good at being Sebastian Sterling's contract wife.
Her phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Miss Reed, this is Sebastian Sterling. Your father has informed me of your answer. My office tomorrow at 2 PM to sign the final contracts. Please bring identification. —S"
He didn't even give her time to agree.
He just assumed she would.
And the terrifying part was that he was right. Grace had already made her choice the moment her father threw those papers on her bed. She'd made it the moment she realized she had nowhere else to go. She'd made it the moment Marcus chose someone else and her father chose money instead of her.
Grace picked up the contract again and found the signature line at the end.
One year. Three hundred sixty-five days. Then she could have her life back.
She could survive anything for one year.
She had to.