Business proposal

Abigail Hart sat at the polished glass table in the heart of Ethan Cole's empire, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows at the sprawling city below. The view was breathtaking—a panorama of gleaming skyscrapers that symbolized power, success, and money, everything Abigail had worked so hard to build and protect. But the moment felt hollow. The city was no longer a symbol of hope. It was a cold reminder of the deal she was about to make.

She glanced over at the man sitting across from her, his profile sharp and composed. Ethan Cole. At thirty-five, he was a paragon of wealth, strength, and icy indifference. His jet-black hair was perfectly styled, his sharp jawline covered in a light stubble, and his dark blue eyes, so hard and unreadable, seemed to cut through everything in the room.

"Miss Hart," Ethan's voice broke through the silence, smooth as velvet, but tinged with that cold, transactional edge she had come to expect from him. "I trust you've reviewed the contract?"

Abigail nodded without taking her eyes off the city below. Her heart raced, but only slightly. She had been prepared for this moment. She had prepared for this deal for months. There was no turning back now.

"Of course," she replied, her voice steady. "It's clear, concise, and… satisfactory."

Ethan smiled, but it wasn't a smile that reached his eyes. He had mastered the art of a smile that was purely business—polite, detached, calculated. He leaned forward slightly, placing his hands together in front of him, his fingers steepled like a man in control of everything around him.

"This marriage," he began, his voice lowering just enough to seem personal, but still businesslike, "is not meant to be anything more than what is outlined in these papers. You know the stakes. The moment we sign, your family's company is safe, and I secure the deal I've been working on for months. Your interests are aligned with mine. It's simple, really."

Abigail could feel the weight of his words, and yet, she was not intimidated. This was a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing less. Ethan needed her, just as she needed him. For all the power he wielded, she could see the cracks in his facade. He was a man bound by obligations, just like her.

She cleared her throat, eyes flicking down to the contract laid before them. The papers were crisp, each one a symbol of their new, unwanted bond. Abigail had read them a thousand times. There was no need to go over the fine print again. She knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

"I understand," she said coolly, pushing the papers toward him. "Let's get this over with."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. He leaned back in his chair, looking at her for a moment, his gaze calculating. Abigail could almost hear his thoughts: Does she realize what she's about to do?

"Abigail," he said after a long pause, his voice softer now, almost like a low murmur. "Once we sign this, there's no going back. There will be no room for mistakes or emotions. It's a business marriage. Nothing personal. I don't want you thinking this will change anything."

His words stung. A sharp, biting reminder of what she was signing up for. A marriage of convenience, built on legal terms, not emotional connection. Ethan Cole made it clear every day that he wasn't interested in anything more than that. And Abigail had to accept it.

Had she really expected more?

Abigail shifted in her seat, keeping her face impassive. She would not allow him to see any weakness, no hint of doubt. She was here for a purpose, and she would fulfill it, even if it meant surrendering every emotional need she had in the process. This wasn't about love. It was about survival.

"I know what this is, Ethan," she said, her voice cutting through the tension in the room. "And I'm fine with it. My family's company is on the line, and I'm not here for anything other than securing its future. We both get what we need."

Ethan studied her with that unblinking gaze. There was something almost… unsettling in his eyes, a flicker of something deeper, something more vulnerable. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but Abigail saw it. For a moment, she felt the tiniest stir of uncertainty, as though the man across from her wasn't entirely sure of what he was about to do.

But that was quickly replaced with the familiar mask of business. His expression hardened again, the edge of command returning to his voice.

"Good," he said, reaching for the pen at the corner of the table. "Let's get it done."

He signed his name at the bottom of the first page, his signature fluid and precise. Abigail followed suit, her hand steady as she signed her name, sealing their futures with a single stroke.

For a moment, there was a strange silence between them. The weight of the contract settled in the air, thick and heavy, like an invisible chain that bound them together. Abigail felt the enormity of what she had just done. She had traded her heart for security—her love, her future, for the company's survival. She had no illusions about the consequences.

Ethan placed the pen down slowly and slid the signed papers toward her, his eyes locking with hers for just a beat too long. It was a moment of silent recognition. They were both in this together now, bound by legal terms, yes, but also something deeper, something unspoken.

"You'll move in tonight," Ethan said, his tone turning businesslike again. "I expect everything to go smoothly. This marriage is a public one, Abigail. I need it to look real."

Abigail's stomach tightened. "I'll make it work," she replied, her voice steady despite the unease creeping up her spine.

Ethan stood, smoothing his suit jacket, and for a moment, he seemed almost… human. But only for a moment.

"Good," he said again. "I'll have someone from the staff show you to your new room. Tomorrow, we'll begin the press conference. You'll need to start getting used to being the wife of Ethan Cole."

As she walked out of the office, Abigail's mind raced. There was no turning back now. This marriage was no longer just a business arrangement—it was a cage. And she had willingly locked herself inside it.

Her heart felt like a stone in her chest. She had done what needed to be done for her family. She had signed away any hope for a personal life, any chance for love, in exchange for something far more pragmatic: security.

And yet, as the elevator doors slid shut, she couldn't shake the feeling that something much more complicated had just begun.