I flipped it open and felt my stomach drop. Inside were copies of my life, hospital bills from my dad’s treatment, bank statements with negative balances, my credit report, even a scan of the eviction notice from my apartment door. My throat went dry. “How did you get all this?” Quote, “I had my assistant run a background check,” she said.
Her voice was calm, like she was reading a grocery list discreetly. You are in freef fall, Adam. No savings, high debt, 3 months behind on rent. You will not last another month. I felt naked sitting there under those sharp gray eyes. Angry too. Why? Why look into me like this? What does this have to do with my job? Quote, “It does not,” she said.
“This is not about work. This is about a proposal.” “A proposal?” I repeated. She leaned back in her chair, studying me. My father set up a trust before he died. The terms say that to keep control of my shares and my position, I must be married by the end of this year and remain married for at least 12 months. If not, control shifts to my brother Derek.
I had seen Derek around the office. Expensive suits, smooth smile, eyes that never smiled with his mouth. People said he wanted her job and would do anything to get it. I am not going to let that happen, Luna said. But I also do not want a real marriage built on lies. That is where you come in. I blinked. Me? I need a husband.
On paper, she said, 12 months, no more, no less. We marry. We live together. We attend events as a couple. When the year is over, we end it cleanly. No claim on my assets. No shared accounts. In return, I clear all your debts, medical, rent, cards, and I pay you $100,000 at the end of the term so you can start over.
