Chapter 2: The Proposal
Evelyn wiped her paint-streaked hands on her jeans, staring at the pile of unpaid bills on the kitchen table. The weight of it all pressed down on her like a storm cloud. Her father's medical treatments had drained their savings, and their family art supply shop wasn't making enough to keep the lights on.
"I can do this," she muttered, though the words rang hollow.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. Claire's name flashed, along with a string of emojis. Evelyn picked up, grateful for the distraction.
"Tell me you've sold a painting," Claire said without preamble.
Evelyn sighed. "Not yet, but the gallery owner said someone seemed interested in my work."
"'Interested' doesn't pay the bills, Ev. You need to push harder."
Evelyn rolled her eyes. Claire always had a way of stating the obvious. "I'll figure something out."
But as she ended the call, her resolve felt paper-thin. She didn't have time to "figure something out." They needed money now.
Hours later, Evelyn sat in the corner of the coffee shop where she worked part-time. The steady hum of the espresso machine and chatter of customers was almost comforting—until she saw him.
The man from the gallery.
Alexander Hayes walked in like he owned the place, which, considering his reputation, wasn't out of the question. He was tall, impeccably dressed, and exuded an aura of power that made everyone else seem insignificant.
Evelyn ducked her head, praying he wouldn't recognize her. But, of course, fate wasn't that kind.
"Miss Blake," his deep voice drawled as he stopped at her table.
Her head snapped up. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to make you an offer."
Her brow furrowed. "An offer? For what? I'm not selling you coffee."
His lips quirked into a smirk. "Not coffee. A proposition."
Evelyn's stomach sank. She didn't like the sound of that. "Look, if this is about the coffee spill, I already apologized—"
"It's not about the coffee," he interrupted, his tone growing serious. "It's about something much bigger."
He sat across from her without waiting for an invitation, his piercing gray eyes locking onto hers.
"I need a wife," he said bluntly.
Evelyn blinked, certain she'd misheard. "Excuse me?"
"A wife," he repeated. "It's a business arrangement. Nothing more."
She stared at him, her brain struggling to catch up. "You don't even know me."
"True. But you're… memorable."
She scoffed. "Let me guess. This is about money."
"In a way," he admitted, leaning forward. "I need to secure a merger, and the board insists that I present myself as a family man. A wife will make me… more agreeable."
Evelyn laughed, though there was no humor in it. "So you want me to pretend to be your wife for, what, appearances? Do I look like the type of person who fits your world?"
His gaze didn't waver. "You need money. I can help."
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
Evelyn's hands balled into fists. "You think you can buy me?"
"I think I can offer you a solution," he said, his voice calm but firm. "In exchange, you play the part. A year, maybe less. You'll walk away with enough to secure your family's future."
Her heart raced. On the one hand, the thought of marrying someone like Alexander was absurd. But on the other, his offer could save everything she'd worked so hard to protect.
"I don't trust you," she said finally.
"You don't have to," he replied. "You just have to trust that I keep my word."
Evelyn's mind spun with possibilities and doubts. Accepting his proposal would mean stepping into a world she didn't belong in—a world where people like Alexander Hayes thrived.
But what choice did she have?