Chapter 2 SIGNING AWAY FOREVER

The Metropolitan Hotel suite was nicer than anywhere Scarlett had ever stayed. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Central Park, the bathroom had a tub the size of a small pool, and the bed was covered in approximately seven thousand dollars worth of Egyptian cotton. Oliver had checked her in under an assumed name and paid in cash, which seemed excessive until she turned on her phone and saw she had seventy-three missed calls from Victoria.

She turned the phone back off.

Sleep didn't come. She lay in the enormous bed watching dawn break over the city, thinking about contracts and consequences and the fact that in roughly twelve hours, she was going to marry a man she'd spent exactly fifteen minutes with.

A man who'd looked at her like she was a puzzle to solve. Like she might be interesting.

She showered, dried her hair, and stared at her wedding dress hanging in the closet. Damien had told her to burn it, but she couldn't quite bring herself to destroy something that had cost eight thousand dollars. Instead, she left it hanging there like a ghost.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: *Car will pick you up at 9 AM. Bring nothing. Everything will be provided. - DW*

Provided. Like she was a doll being dressed for someone else's amusement.

Except that wasn't fair. Damien hadn't forced this. She'd proposed to him. This was her choice, her gamble, her leap into the unknown.

At exactly nine AM, a black Mercedes pulled up to the hotel entrance. The driver was a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and an earpiece who introduced herself as Janet and said nothing else for the entire drive to the Wolfe Industries building.

The headquarters was a steel-and-glass tower in Midtown that looked like it could slice through clouds. Janet led her through a private entrance and up to the forty-fifth floor, where floor-to-ceiling windows showcased Manhattan like a kingdom laid at their feet.

"Conference room three," Janet said, gesturing down a hallway. "Mr. Wolfe is expecting you."

Scarlett walked down the corridor feeling underdressed in yesterday's jeans and a borrowed hotel robe. The conference room door was already open.

Damien stood at the windows, phone to his ear, speaking in rapid Mandarin. In daylight, he was even more devastating-sharply dressed in a charcoal suit, hair still slightly disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it, jaw tight with whatever stress he was managing. He glanced over as she entered, held up one finger, and continued his conversation.

She took a seat at the massive table and tried not to feel like an imposter.

He finished the call, pocketed his phone, and turned to face her. "You came."

"Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I thought you might have second thoughts in the cold light of day." He moved to the table and pulled out a folder thick with documents. "These are the contracts. I had my lawyers work through the night."

"That seems excessive."

"I don't like loose ends." He slid the folder across to her. "Read every word. Ask questions. My lawyer will be here in ten minutes to witness signatures, but I want you to understand exactly what you're agreeing to."

Scarlett opened the folder and started reading. The language was dense and legal, but the terms were clear: twelve-month marriage, cohabitation required, public appearances as needed, no extramarital affairs, no unauthorized media contact, complete confidentiality about the contractual nature of the marriage. In exchange: housing, security, a monthly allowance of fifty thousand dollars, legal support for investigating her father's death, and a ten million dollar settlement upon completion of the contract.

There were pages about property rights, inheritance clauses, what would happen if either party died during the term, provisions for pregnancy-

She stopped. "This says if I get pregnant, the contract extends automatically and the settlement increases to fifty million."

"Children complicate things." Damien had moved to the coffee service and was pouring two cups. "If that happens, we'll need to renegotiate. But it won't happen. I'm careful."

"I'm on birth control."

"Good." He brought her a coffee;black, which wasn't how she liked it, but she didn't correct him. "Keep reading."

She did. The contract was thorough to the point of paranoia. What she could and couldn't say to the media. Where she could and couldn't go without security. How often they'd need to be seen together in public,at least three times per week. Sleeping arrangements;separate bedrooms but occasional shared appearances to maintain the illusion. Grounds for immediate termination:infidelity, criminal behavior, breach of confidentiality.

And buried in the middle: a clause about her father's death. Damien would provide legal resources, private investigators, and access to any information that might help her case, but she couldn't pursue any actions that would publicly damage Wolfe Industries or its partners.

"This says I can't investigate anyone connected to your company," she said.

"It says you can't damage my company while doing it. There's a difference."

"What if my stepmother has connections to your board?"

"Then you'll need to be creative." He leaned against the table, arms crossed. "I'm giving you tools, Scarlett. How you use them is up to you."

She kept reading. The morality clauses were extensive,no drugs, no excessive drinking, no public scandals. Her social media would be monitored. Her friends would be vetted. Her entire life was about to become a carefully curated performance.

"This is a gilded cage," she said.

"Yes." He didn't apologize for it. "But it's a cage with resources, protection, and a very generous settlement at the end. You'll be uncomfortable. You won't be unsafe."

"Unless your enemies come after me."

"I have excellent security." He paused. "But yes, there will be risks. People who want to hurt me might see you as an opportunity. That's why you'll have a bodyguard, a panic button, and strict protocols for where you can go and who you can see."

"Sounds romantic."

"This isn't romance. This is business." His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. "You wanted a deal. This is the deal. If you don't like the terms, walk away now."

Scarlett looked at the contract, then at him. In the morning light, she could see faint shadows under his eyes. He'd been up all night too, having this drawn up, making sure every contingency was covered. This mattered to him more than he was letting on.

"Why do you really need a wife?" she asked. "The real reason, not the business deal excuse."

Damien's jaw tightened. "That's not relevant."

"I'm signing away a year of my life. It's relevant to me."

For a long moment, she thought he wouldn't answer. Then he moved to the windows, staring out at the city. "My father built a company through lies and betrayal. When it collapsed, it destroyed my family. My mother drank herself to death. My sister hasn't spoken to me in five years because she blames me for not stopping him." His voice was carefully controlled. "I rebuilt from nothing, and I did it cleanly. No shortcuts, no corruption, no betrayals. But the world doesn't forget. To some people, I'll always be my father's son."

"And a wife makes you look stable."

"A wife makes me look like someone who's moved past his father's sins. Someone who's building something legitimate, something lasting." He turned to face her. "The Chen family won't do business with someone they see as damaged goods. They value tradition, family, stability. A marriage,even a strategic one proves I'm not my father."

"So we're both trying to escape our fathers' shadows."

Something flickered in his expression-recognition, maybe, or respect. "Yes."

Scarlett looked back at the contract. Twelve months of careful performance, of pretending to be someone she wasn't, of living in a stranger's house and playing by his rules. Twelve months of uncomfortable dinners and choreographed affection and always, always being watched.

Or she could walk away. Go back to her empty apartment, her stolen inheritance, her life as it was which was no life at all.

She picked up the pen. "Where do I sign?"

Damien's eyebrows rose slightly. "You're not going to negotiate?"

"Would you change the terms?"

"No."

"Then there's nothing to negotiate." She found the signature lines and signed her name in clear, bold letters. Scarlett Marie Hayes, soon to be Scarlett Wolfe. "I'm not afraid of hard work or uncomfortable situations. I'm afraid of staying powerless. This gives me power."

He watched her sign each page, and she couldn't read his expression. When she finished, he called someone named Richard, and a man in an expensive suit appeared within minutes. The lawyer:thin, fifties, eyes like a calculator reviewed every signature, notarized the documents, and left without making small talk.

"It's done," Damien said once they were alone again. "We'll go to the courthouse at two. I've arranged for a judge, witnesses, and complete media blackout until we're ready to announce. You'll need to change first."

"Into what?"

He gestured to a garment bag hanging by the door that she hadn't noticed. "Something appropriate."

She opened it to find a cream-colored dress;simple, elegant, expensive. Shoes. Jewelry. Even undergarments, which felt invasive but was probably practical.

"You know my size," she said.

"I'm thorough."

"You're controlling."

"Yes." He didn't deny it. "Does that bother you?"

"I'm not sure yet." She looked at him, this stranger she was about to marry. "What happens after the courthouse?"

"We announce to the media. Your stepmother will find out you're now Mrs. Damien Wolfe. Then we go back to the mansion, and you'll meet the staff and see your rooms. Tonight, there's a dinner with the Chen family,our first public appearance as a married couple."

"That's fast."

"I move fast. You'll get used to it." He checked his watch. "You have three hours to change your mind, Scarlett. After we say 'I do,' you're committed. No backing out, no second thoughts, no regrets."

She thought about Marcus's betrayal. Elena's smirk. Victoria's hands pushing her father down the stairs,no proof, but she knew it in her bones.

"No regrets," she said.

The courthouse was surprisingly quiet. Just her, Damien, two witnesses she didn't know, and a judge who looked bored. The ceremony took seven minutes. Damien's hand was warm and steady when he slipped the ring on her finger:a simple platinum band that probably cost more than a car.

"You may kiss the bride," the judge said.

Scarlett hadn't thought about this part. She looked up at Damien, who was looking at her with an expression she couldn't read.

"We should," he murmured. "For practice."

Then he leaned down and kissed her.

It was meant to be perfunctory, she knew. A brief press of lips, professional and cold. But the moment his mouth touched hers, something electric sparked between them. His hand came up to cup her jaw, and she found herself leaning into him, her fingers curling into his jacket.

The kiss deepened for just a second,enough for her to taste coffee and something darker before he pulled back.

They stared at each other.

"That was..." she started.

"Practice," he said firmly. "Just practice."

But his pupils were dilated, and his hand was still on her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone in a way that felt unconscious.

The judge cleared her throat. "Congratulations. You're legally married."

Legally married. To a man she'd met yesterday. A man who'd just kissed her like he meant it.

This was either the best or worst decision of her life.

Outside, Damien's publicist was waiting,a woman named Patricia who had the efficient energy of someone who'd seen everything and was impressed by nothing. She handed them each a statement to memorize, scheduled three media appearances, and rattled off instructions about what they could and couldn't say.

"Keep it simple," Patricia said. "You met at a charity event, fell hard and fast, couldn't wait to start your lives together. Very romantic, very impulsive, very believable given Mr. Wolfe's reputation."

"My reputation for what?" Damien asked dryly.

"For making decisive moves when you want something." Patricia's smile was sharp. "And apparently, you wanted Mrs. Wolfe quite badly."

Mrs. Wolfe. The name felt foreign in Scarlett's mouth.

The announcement went live at four PM. By four-fifteen, Scarlett's phone,which she'd finally turned back on was exploding with calls and texts. Victoria. Elena. Marcus. Numbers she didn't recognize. Her social media was blowing up with friend requests and messages.

One text made her smile: Holy shit. You married DAMIEN WOLFE? Call me immediately. - Oliver

Another made her stomach drop: This isn't over. - Victoria

"Let me see that," Damien said, noticing her expression. She showed him Victoria's text, and his jaw tightened. "Block her number. You don't talk to her without me or a lawyer present."

"She's going to make trouble."

"Let her try." He took her phone and did something that presumably blocked Victoria's number. "You're protected now, Scarlett. She can't touch you."

Famous last words.

They arrived at the mansion at five, and the staff was lined up in the foyer like something from a period drama. The head housekeeper, Mrs. Chen:no relation to Oliver was a severe woman in her sixties who looked at Scarlett like she was a particularly worrying stain. The chef, Marcel, was French and theatrical. The security chief, a ex-military man named Brooks, had the cold eyes of someone who'd seen combat.

And there were others;maids, groundskeepers, drivers, assistants. At least twenty people who would now be part of Scarlett's daily life.

"This is overwhelming," she murmured to Damien.

"You'll learn." He guided her upstairs to the second floor. "Your rooms."

He opened a door to reveal a suite that was bigger than her old apartment. Bedroom, sitting area, walk-in closet, bathroom with that tub she was starting to think was a billionaire requirement. Everything was decorated in soft greys and whites, elegant and impersonal.

"Your things are being collected from your apartment," Damien said. "They'll be here tonight. If you need anything else, tell Mrs. Chen."

"Where are your rooms?"

"Next door. Connected through there." He pointed to a door she'd assumed was a closet. "We'll keep it locked unless there's a reason to be in each other's space."

A reason. Right. This wasn't a real marriage. They were roommates with a very expensive contract.

"The Chen dinner is at eight," he continued. "Patricia has sent over information on the family,read it. David Chen is traditional, his wife Susan is shrewd, and their daughter Lily will be looking for any sign that this marriage is fake. Be convincing."

"No pressure."

"You proposed this, remember?"

"I'm starting to see why you don't have a real wife. Your warmth is overwhelming."

That earned her a slight smile. "I'll send someone up to help you get ready. Don't be late."

He left, and Scarlett was alone in her gilded cage.

She sat on the bed which was somehow even more comfortable than the hotel's and looked at her hand. The platinum ring caught the light, simple and beautiful and binding.

She'd done it. She'd actually done it.

Now she just had to survive it.

The woman who appeared at seven to help her dress was young, efficient, and introduced herself as Maya. She had an eye for styling and no patience for modesty, stripping Scarlett down and rebuilding her into someone who looked like they belonged in Damien Wolfe's world.

The dress was midnight blue, fitted and elegant. The shoes were Louboutin. The jewelry was simple but clearly expensive. Her hair was swept up, her makeup was perfect, and when Maya finally let her look in the mirror, Scarlett barely recognized herself.

"You look like you belong," Maya said with satisfaction. "Mrs. Chen will approve."

Mrs. Chen-the housekeeper or Damien's business partner's wife? She was losing track.

Damien was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, and when he saw her, something flickered across his face. Appreciation, maybe. Or just approval that she could play the part.

"You look beautiful," he said, and it sounded like a business assessment.

"You look handsome," she replied in the same tone.

He held out his arm. "Ready?"

No. "Yes."

The dinner was at a private club in Tribeca, all dark wood and exclusivity. The Chen family was already seated when they arrived:David Chen, early sixties, shrewd eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses; his wife Susan, elegant in emerald silk with a smile that didn't reach her eyes; and their daughter Lily, mid-twenties, beautiful in a calculated way that reminded Scarlett uncomfortably of Elena.

"Damien," David said, standing to shake hands. "And this must be the new Mrs. Wolfe. We were quite surprised by the announcement."

"Surprised but delighted," Susan added, though her tone suggested otherwise. "Such a whirlwind romance."

Scarlett felt Damien's hand settle at the small of her back, warm through the thin fabric of her dress. A reminder or a warning, she wasn't sure.

"When you know, you know," Damien said smoothly. "Scarlett, this is David, Susan, and Lily Chen. David and I have been working on a partnership that will revolutionize international logistics."

"How romantic," Lily said, her voice dripping with skepticism. "You met at a charity event yesterday and married today. That must be some kind of record."

"We believe in decisive action," Scarlett said, channeling every ounce of confidence she didn't feel. "When something's right, why wait?"

"Indeed." David gestured for them to sit. "Though I must admit, Damien, I had expected you to follow more traditional courtship practices. Perhaps introduce us to your intended before the wedding?"

There was a subtle rebuke in his tone. This was a test, Scarlett realized. David Chen was traditional, according to Patricia's notes. He valued family, propriety, and careful deliberation. A sudden marriage would look impulsive at best, suspicious at worst.

"I apologize for the rushed timeline," Damien said, his hand still on Scarlett's back. "But my grandmother is in poor health, and she's been asking to see me settled. When I met Scarlett, I knew she was exactly what our family needed. I couldn't risk waiting and disappointing the woman who raised me."

It was a masterful lie. Scarlett hadn't heard anything about a grandmother, but the mention of family duty and filial piety was clearly calculated for their audience.

Susan's expression softened slightly. "Your grandmother is ill? I'm sorry to hear that."

"She'll be better now that she knows I'm married. She worries." Damien looked at Scarlett, and his expression was so convincingly affectionate that her breath caught. "And Scarlett has already promised to visit her this week. Haven't you, darling?"

Darling. The endearment felt foreign and intimate all at once.

"Of course," Scarlett said, placing her hand over his where it rested on the table. His fingers were warm, strong, and when they curled around hers, the gesture looked natural. Felt natural. "Family is everything."

"A sentiment we share," David said, nodding approvingly. "Tell me, Scarlett, what does your family think of this marriage?"

The question was a trap. She could feel it.

"My father passed away recently," she said quietly, letting genuine grief color her voice. "He would have loved Damien. They were similar in many ways,driven, principled, protective of the people they love."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Susan said, and this time her sympathy seemed genuine. "How did you meet Damien? The reports have been vague."

"At his charity gala. I was there with a friend, feeling lost and grief-stricken, honestly not sure I should have come at all." She looked at Damien, and the lie came surprisingly easily. "Then I quite literally stumbled into him. He caught me, looked at me like he could see straight through all my pretenses, and said, 'Are you all right?' No one had asked me that in weeks. Everyone had been tiptoeing around my grief, but he just... saw me."

Damien's thumb stroked across her knuckles, a small gesture that sent electricity up her arm. "She was wearing a white dress and looked like she was about to bolt. I couldn't let her leave without knowing her name."

"So you married her twelve hours later?" Lily's skepticism hadn't diminished.

"So I spent all night talking to her," Damien corrected. "And by morning, I knew I'd found someone extraordinary. Someone who understood that life is short and opportunities don't wait. We went to the courthouse as soon as it opened."

"How... impulsive," Lily said.

"How romantic," Susan countered, though her eyes were still assessing. "Though I imagine the media attention must be overwhelming, Scarlett. Have you been prepared for life in the public eye?"

Another test. They wanted to know if she'd crack under pressure.

"I won't pretend it's not an adjustment," Scarlett admitted. "But I've learned that the alternative:living small, playing it safe, letting fear make your decisions is far more painful than any headline could be."

David studied her for a long moment. "You've experienced loss recently. That either makes people stronger or breaks them. Which are you?"

"Both," Scarlett said honestly. "But I'm choosing to be stronger."

Something shifted in David's expression. Respect, maybe, or at least interest. "Damien, you may have found yourself an impressive wife."

The waiter arrived with their first course, and the conversation shifted to safer topics:the partnership, upcoming business trips, mutual acquaintances. Scarlett played her part perfectly, laughing at appropriate moments, asking intelligent questions about the logistics business, and maintaining just enough physical contact with Damien to sell the romance without overdoing it.

But Lily was watching her throughout the meal with narrow eyes, and Scarlett knew the daughter wasn't convinced.

During dessert, when the men were discussing contract details and Susan had excused herself to take a call, Lily leaned closer to Scarlett.

"I know what this is," she murmured, her voice too low for anyone else to hear.

Scarlett's heart kicked. "I'm sorry?"

"A contract marriage. Damien needs legitimacy for the deal with my father, you need money or protection or whatever you're running from. I've seen this before in my parents' circles." Lily's smile was cold. "The question is, what happens when you fall in love with him?"

"That won't happen."

"That's what they all say. But Damien Wolfe is... compelling. Dangerous. The kind of man who gets under your skin without trying." Lily traced the rim of her wine glass. "I slept with him once, you know. About two years ago. He was thorough, attentive, and completely emotionally unavailable. I spent three months trying to get him to call me back before I realized he'd already moved on."

Scarlett felt an unexpected flash of jealousy, which was absurd. She had no claim on Damien beyond a legal document.

"That must have been difficult," she said carefully.

"It was educational. I learned that Damien doesn't let people in. Whatever happened in his past made him into someone who views relationships as transactions." Lily looked at her directly. "So if this is a transaction, fine. But don't fool yourself into thinking it's more. He'll break your heart without meaning to, and you'll be just another woman who thought she could be the exception."

Before Scarlett could respond, Damien's hand found hers under the table, squeezing gently. He'd been listening.

"Ladies," he said smoothly, "shall we rejoin the conversation? David was just telling me about his expansion plans for Shanghai."

The rest of the dinner passed in a blur of business talk and performance. By the time they left, Scarlett's face hurt from smiling and her feet hurt from the heels.

In the car, Damien was silent for the first few minutes, staring out the window at Manhattan sliding past.

"You were good tonight," he finally said. "Convincing."

"Thank you. So were you."

"Lily spoke to you."

It wasn't a question. "Yes."

"What did she say?"

Scarlett considered lying, then decided against it. They were married now, even if it was fake. Some honesty was probably necessary.

"She warned me not to fall in love with you. Said you were emotionally unavailable and would break my heart." She looked at him. "She also mentioned you slept together."

"Two years ago. Once. It meant nothing."

"Does anything mean something to you?"

The question came out more cutting than she'd intended. Damien turned to look at her, and in the dim light of the car, his eyes were unreadable.

"My company means something. My grandmother means something. My sister, despite not speaking to me, means something." He paused. "And keeping my word means something. I promised you twelve months, resources, and protection. You'll get all three, regardless of whether you believe I have emotions."

"I didn't say you don't have emotions."

"You implied it."

"Lily implied it. I'm just trying to understand who I married."

"Someone who keeps their promises. That's all you need to understand."

The car pulled up to the mansion, and Damien was out before the driver could open his door. He came around to her side, offered his hand, and helped her out with the kind of practiced courtesy that probably came from years of high-society events.

Inside, the mansion was quiet. Most of the staff had retired for the night, though Mrs. Chen appeared from nowhere to ask if they needed anything. Damien dismissed her, and they climbed the stairs together in silence.

At the door to her room, he stopped.

"You did well tonight," he said again. "David liked you. That's not easy to achieve."

"Is that all that matters? Whether your business partners approve of me?"

"For the purposes of this arrangement, yes." His voice was matter-of-fact. "Though I'll admit, you're more natural at this than I expected. The story about how we met,that was quick thinking."

"It was the truth, mostly. I did stumble into you. You did ask if I was all right."

"And I did spend all night thinking about you." The admission seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised her. "Which was inconvenient."

"Why inconvenient?"

"Because this is supposed to be simple. A transaction. But you're..." He trailed off, jaw tightening. "Never mind. Goodnight, Scarlett."

He turned toward his own door, but she caught his arm.

"Damien. What your ex said about you being emotionally unavailable,I'm not judging. I'm emotionally unavailable too right now. My heart is full of rage and grief and revenge. There's no room for anything else." She met his eyes. "So you don't need to worry about me falling in love with you. I'm not capable of it."

Something flickered across his face:relief, or possibly disappointment.

"Good," he said. "That makes things simpler."

He disappeared into his room, and Scarlett went into hers. She kicked off the painful heels, unzipped the dress, and stood in her underwear staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror.

Who was she now? Scarlett Wolfe, billionaire's wife. Scarlett Hayes, murdered man's daughter. Scarlett someone-she-didn't-recognize, playing a role in someone else's life.

Her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: *Enjoy your victory while it lasts. You're not Mrs. Wolfe. You're a fraud who will be exposed. - V*

Victoria had found her number.

Scarlett deleted the text and blocked the contact, but her hands were shaking. Victoria wasn't going to let this go. Neither was Elena. They would come after her, contract or not, Damien's protection or not.

She needed to move faster. Investigate harder. Find proof before they found a way to destroy her.

She pulled on pajamas and opened her laptop, searching for everything she could find about her father's death. Police reports, news articles, autopsy results. The official story was accidental fall, but there had to be something,some inconsistency, some evidence, some thread she could pull.

She was still reading at three AM when she heard movement in Damien's room. Footsteps, the sound of a door opening and closing. Was he leaving?

She crept to her door and opened it a crack. The hallway was empty, but she could hear voices from downstairs. Damien's and someone else's-urgent, tense.

She should stay in her room. This was none of her business.

But she'd never been good at staying in her lane.

She slipped into the hallway and made her way to the landing, staying in shadows. Below, in the foyer, Damien stood with a woman Scarlett didn't recognize. Thirties, stunning in a way that suggested professional maintenance, wearing a business suit at three in the morning.

"You can't just show up here," Damien was saying, his voice low and dangerous.

"You got married. To some nobody. Without telling me." The woman's voice was sharp with fury. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?"

"Vivienne, we've been done for three years-"

"We're never done, Damien. You know that. We're tied together by too much history, too many secrets." Vivienne stepped closer, her hand on his chest. "And now you're bringing some innocent girl into our world? Does she know who you really are? What you've done?"

"Leave. Now."

"Or what? You'll have security throw me out? I have documentation, Damien. Everything your father did, everything you covered up, every dollar that shouldn't exist. If you think some sudden marriage is going to legitimize you, you're wrong. You're still your father's son, and I can prove it."

Scarlett's blood ran cold. What had Damien's father done? What had Damien covered up?

"You're bluffing," Damien said, but his voice had changed. He was worried.

"Am I? Want to test that theory?" Vivienne smiled, a predatory expression. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to give me what I want,the board seat you promised me, the shares you stole, the apology you owe me for destroying my career. Or I'm going to destroy your marriage, your deal with Chen, and your precious rebuilt reputation. Your choice."

There was a long silence.

"I'll think about it," Damien finally said.

"You have one week. After that, I go to the media." Vivienne turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Damien? Your new wife is pretty. It would be a shame if she got caught in the crossfire."

She left, her heels clicking on the marble floor like gunshots.

Damien stood alone in the foyer, his shoulders tight with tension. Then he looked up, directly at where Scarlett was hiding in the shadows.

"You can come out now," he said. "I know you're there."

Caught.

Scarlett descended the stairs slowly, her heart pounding. Damien watched her approach, his expression unreadable.

"How much did you hear?" he asked.

"Enough." She stopped a few feet away from him. "Who was she?"

"My ex-fiancée. The one I mentioned."

"She's blackmailing you."

"Yes."

"With information about your father. Information about you." Scarlett crossed her arms. "What did your father do, Damien? What did you cover up?"

His jaw tightened. "That's not part of our arrangement. You get to investigate your father's death. My past is my business."

"Not when it threatens this marriage. Not when she just threatened me directly."

"I'll handle Vivienne."

"Will you? Because it sounded like she has leverage."

"She has accusations. That's not the same as proof."

"But there is proof, isn't there?" Scarlett stepped closer, searching his face. "Something your father did. Something you helped hide. What was it?"

"Scarlett-"

"I signed a contract with you. I'm living in your house, wearing your ring, playing your devoted wife. The least you can do is tell me what I'm walking into."

For a moment, she thought he'd refuse. Then his shoulders sagged slightly, and he looked suddenly exhausted.

"My father embezzled money from his partners. Millions of dollars over the course of a decade. When they discovered it, he took his own life rather than face prosecution." Damien's voice was flat, emotionless. "I was twenty-two. I spent the next two years liquidating everything we had to pay back what he stole. But there were offshore accounts I couldn't trace, money that disappeared into shell companies. Vivienne was his accountant's daughter. She helped me find some of it, and in return, I promised her a position in my company once I rebuilt."

"But you didn't keep that promise."

"Because I discovered she was the one who'd helped my father hide the money in the first place. She was twenty, ambitious, and willing to do anything for a payday. Including helping a man steal from his partners." His eyes were cold. "So no, I didn't keep my promise. I fired her family, blacklisted her in the industry, and made sure she'd never work in finance again."

"And now she wants revenge."

"Now she wants what she thinks she's owed. A board seat, shares, legitimacy." He laughed, a bitter sound. "The irony is that she's right. I am my father's son. I built this company using skills I learned watching him lie and manipulate. The only difference is I used those skills for something legitimate."

Scarlett processed this. Damien Wolfe, self-made billionaire, was actually the son of an embezzler. His entire fortune was built on ruins and revenge.

They really were more similar than she'd thought.

"What are you going to do about Vivienne?" she asked.

"I don't know yet."

"Does she actually have documentation?"

"Probably. She was thorough even at twenty. And if she does, she can prove that some of my seed capital came from money my father stole. It won't destroy the company,I paid back the debts with interest but it will destroy the Chen deal. David values integrity above all else. If he thinks my fortune has dirty origins, he'll walk."

"So we have one week to figure this out."

"We?"

"You said I was protected. That goes both ways. Your enemies are my enemies now." Scarlett squared her shoulders. "Besides, I'm good at finding hidden things. It's how I discovered Marcus was cheating. Let me help."

"This isn't your problem."

"Everything about this marriage is my problem. If the Chen deal falls through, what happens to our contract?"

Damien's expression darkened. "It ends. Without the business legitimacy, I don't need a wife. You'd get a settlement for the time served, but not the full amount."

So her ten million was contingent on his success. Of course it was.

"Then I'm helping," she said firmly. "Where do we start?"

He studied her for a long moment, and she could see him calculating, weighing options, deciding whether to trust her.

"We start by finding out exactly what documentation Vivienne has," he said finally. "And then we figure out how to neutralize it before she destroys us both."

"How do we do that?"

"By doing what I do best." His smile was sharp and dangerous. "We outmaneuver her. And if that doesn't work, we destroy her first."

It should have been terrifying. Instead, Scarlett felt a thrill of excitement.

This was what she'd wanted. Not safety, not comfort but power. The power to fight back.

"When do we start?" she asked.

"Tomorrow. For now, you should sleep. We both should."

But neither of them moved. They stood in the foyer, married strangers with secrets and enemies, and somewhere in the city, people were plotting their destruction.

"This isn't what I expected when I proposed to you," Scarlett said quietly.

"What did you expect?"

"Something simpler. A transaction, like you said. Not..." She gestured vaguely. "All this."

"Nothing's ever simple with me. I thought you would have figured that out by now."

"I'm starting to."

Damien reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. The gesture was gentle, almost tender, and completely at odds with the cold businessman he pretended to be.

"For what it's worth," he said softly, "I'm glad you're not simple either. This would be very boring if you were."

Then he turned and walked back upstairs, leaving her standing in the foyer with her heart racing and her thoughts in chaos.

She was married to a man with dark secrets and dangerous enemies. A man who could be gentle one moment and ruthless the next. A man who was either going to help her reclaim her life or drag her down with him.

Either way, there was no going back now.

She climbed the stairs to her room, slipped into bed, and lay staring at the ceiling until dawn crept through the windows.

Tomorrow, the real work would begin.

Tomorrow, they'd start fighting back.

But tonight, she let herself feel the weight of what she'd done. She'd married a stranger. She'd entered a world she didn't understand. She'd made herself a target for people who played games with higher stakes than she'd ever imagined.

And somehow, impossibly, she was excited about it.

Maybe Lily had been right. Maybe Damien Wolfe was the kind of man who got under your skin.

But Scarlett was the kind of woman who didn't go down without a fight.

And if Victoria, Elena, Marcus, and now Vivienne thought they could destroy her, they were about to learn a very expensive lesson.

She was Scarlett Wolfe now.

And Scarlett Wolfe didn't lose.