Scarlett Monroe stared blankly at her phone screen. The name of a debt collector appeared again for the third time that morning. Her right hand clenched into a fist, while her left hand gripped a photo of her younger sister, Lila. That impulsive girl had just made the worst decision of their lives: borrowing money from loan sharks for a "crypto business opportunity" that turned out to be a scam.
"What have you done, Lil..." she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Scarlett let out a long sigh and stood up from the hard chair in the lobby of a Manhattan skyscraper. Her eyes fixed on the golden logo: Alcor Corporation. This was where she would meet the man who could either save her sister or destroy her own life.
Asher Blackwell — a young CEO known for his ruthlessness and for always getting what he wants. Scarlett didn't understand why he was interested in her. They had only met once, back when she worked as an executive secretary at one of Alcor's subsidiaries. She remembered the sharp look in Asher's eyes then black eyes that seemed to pierce into her soul, not with interest, but calculation, as if she were a piece of data to analyze.
Now, Scarlett was back. Not as an employee, but as a contract bride.
An assistant led her into the main office. The room was luxurious and cold, high ceilings, large windows with a view of the city, and the faint scent of expensive wood lingering in the air. At the far end of the room stood the man himself, tall, sharply dressed, with an expression that hadn't changed since the last time they met.
"As expected," Asher said without small talk. "I've prepared the legal team."
Scarlett straightened her shoulders. "I have conditions."
Asher raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Go on."
"I want all my sister's debts cleared. Not just that, but everyone involved must be handled. I don't want any more threats coming to my family."
Asher didn't reply immediately. He walked slowly to his desk and pressed the intercom. "Bring the contract to my office now."
Minutes later, a man in a gray suit arrived with a thick folder. Asher handed Scarlett a Montblanc pen, but she didn't reach for it right away. "Anything else you'd like to ask?" Asher asked calmly almost too calmly.
"Why me?" Scarlett finally spoke after a moment of silence. "Why did you choose me to be your contract wife? You could have anyone. A model, an actress, a socialite…"
Asher looked at her with no hint of emotion. "Because you won't fall in love with me," he said flatly. "I don't have time for emotions. I need someone strong, undemanding, and willing to follow the rules. You check all the boxes."
Scarlett held her breath. The words stung like a cold slap, but they also affirmed the decision she had made. She opened the first page of the document in her hand. The contract terms were clear: a one-year marriage, living together, appearing at social events as a couple, no intimacy unless mutually agreed. After the contract ended, a facilitated divorce and additional compensation would be provided.
Without another word, Scarlett took the pen and signed the contract.
Asher followed suit. With two signatures, their lives were now bound by black ink on white paper.
"Starting today, you are Scarlett Blackwell," Asher said. "Welcome to my world."
Scarlett didn't respond. The name sounded foreign in her ears, like a sign she was stepping into a world that wasn't hers. But what choice did she have? She didn't have enough money to repay all the debts. Lila couldn't help her. This was the only way.
She told herself everything would be fine. One year wasn't that long.nShe just had to endure it, follow the rules, and keep her distance. No feelings. No attachments.
Once all administrative matters were settled, Scarlett left. Asher immediately instructed his assistant to arrange the move and settle all of Scarlett and Lila's debts.
That evening, in their small apartment. Lila sat on the couch, eating a bowl of cereal and watching videos on her phone. She looked relaxed, as if unaware of the storm that had just hit their lives. "Where have you been? You look pale," she asked as soon as Scarlett walked in.
Scarlett looked at her sister's face—so innocent, so unaware of the price paid to save her. She wanted to yell. She wanted to cry. But she held it all in and answered flatly, "We're moving tonight."
Lila frowned in confusion. "Moving where? I like it here…"
"To somewhere safe. Your debt is paid," Scarlett cut her off.
Lila fell silent for a moment, then asked softly, "Where did you get the money?"
Scarlett looked away, hesitating. But she knew, sooner or later, Lila had to know. "I… got married," she said quietly, almost a whisper.
Lila stared at her, shocked. "What?"
"It's complicated. But what matters is you're safe now," Scarlett said quickly, trying to steady her voice.
Lila stood and hugged her sister tightly, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Sis. I didn't mean to mess everything up…"
Scarlett returned the hug, then gently pulled away. She wiped Lila's tears and tried to smile, even though her heart trembled. "I should be the one crying," she said softly. "For marrying a man I don't love. But you… you're more important than anything. Even more than my feelings. So now, you have to smile."
Lila nodded slowly. She knew her sister was serious. Whatever happened, they had to protect each other now.
"Come on, let's get ready. Tonight, we're moving to a new place," Scarlett said, trying to sound optimistic.
And that night, two sisters bound by hope and burden stepped into a new life, uncertain of where it would take them.
Night, the Blackwell Residence. The house looked like a work of architectural art grand, luxurious, but quiet. Too quiet. Scarlett stood at the doorway of the room prepared for her.
An elderly butler named Ellis showed her a few basic amenities before bowing politely.
"Mr. Asher is in a meeting. He won't be greeting you tonight," Ellis said before leaving Scarlett alone.
Scarlett nodded slightly, then walked inside. The room was spacious, cold, and too perfect.
No photos. No warmth. No trace of life. She opened the small suitcase she'd brought and began arranging a few clothes in the closet. Every movement felt foreign—like she was living in someone else's dream.
She sat at the edge of the bed and exhaled deeply. One year. That was the agreement. But somehow, it already felt like she had bargained away more than just time.