A car will be sent."" Marcus asked what it was about. Sharon said she didn't specify. The line went dead. The next morning, Marcus sat in the back of a black sedan he had not asked for, wearing the only collared shirt he owned, heading to the Hayes Capital Group Tower downtown. When he walked into Victoria's office, she was standing behind her desk, silhouetted against a wall of windows that showed the entire city skyline.
She was wearing a dark gray suit, her hair pulled back, her expression unreadable. "Sit down," she said. Marcus did not sit. He stood near the door, his hands at his sides. Victoria studied him for a moment, then opened a drawer and placed a document on the desk.
Thick, at least 30 pages, bound in a dark blue folder. "I want you to marry me," she said. The words landed in the room like a glass dropped on marble. Marcus stared at her. ""Excuse me?"" Victoria's expression did not change. ""A contract marriage. Two years.
You will live at the estate, appear with me at public events, and maintain the image of a stable relationship."" Marcus felt the floor tilt beneath him. He had expected many things walking into this office, a termination, a non-disclosure agreement, maybe even an apology, but not this. Not a marriage proposal delivered like a quarterly earnings report. "Why me?" He asked.
Victoria's answer was immediate. ""Because you already know the worst thing about me, and you are still standing here."" Marcus shook his head slowly. ""And if I say no?"" Victoria's jaw tightened and something sharp and dangerous flickered behind her composed exterior. ""Then I will make sure you never find work in the city again. Not at any agency, not at any firm. I have the reach to do that, Marcus, and you know it."" The room went silent. Marcus looked at the document on the desk, then back at Victoria. He could see it now.
Beneath the threat, beneath the control, there was something desperate, something she would never admit out loud. It did not excuse the threat, but it explained it. Marcus stepped forward and picked up the document. He flipped through the pages slowly, clauses about public appearances, confidentiality, living arrangements, every detail of a fake life written in legal language that made it sound clean. He set it back down and looked directly at her. ""I'll sign it, but I have one condition.
I am not a display piece. I am not a prop for your boardroom or your magazine covers. If I walk into a room with you, I walk in as a man, not as a purchased accessory. That is the only term I need and it will not be on paper. It will be understood."" Victoria held his gaze, then she nodded once firmly and slid a pen across the desk.