Married to the man behind the camera

There are moments in life when your whole world can shatter with a single phone call. Mine came in the form of a polite, velvet voice asking, "Miss patel... would you be willing to marry a stranger for six months?"

---

I froze in the middle of the tiny office that doubled as my father's film studio. Dusty posters of the indie movies he'd once produced hung crookedly on the walls, like fading memories of better days. A single fan rattled above me, struggling against the sweltering summer heat. I had just finished sorting through a depressing stack of overdue bills, and my fingers were still ink-stained from pawing through legal notices.

"I... I'm sorry?" I said, sure I had misheard.

The woman on the line didn't falter. "Mr. Blackwood's office would like to make you an offer. A confidential arrangement. A marriage is temporary, of course. Six months. Substantial financial compensation."

I laughed before I could stop myself. It was a brittle, broken sound. "Is this... a prank?"

"No, Miss Patel. It's an opportunity." Her voice was calm, deliberate, almost hypnotic. "You were recommended. Mr. Blackwood's legal team will handle all contracts. If you are interested, we can schedule a meeting today."

Liam Blackwood.

The name alone sent a chill down my spine. I knew it. Everyone in the industry did. Billionaire movie producer. Ruthless negotiator. The man behind some of Hollywood's biggest hits and its nastiest scandals. His latest headlines were brutal: Blackwood Films in Crisis. Ex-Fiancée Speaks: "He's Ice Cold and Heartless."

And now... his office was calling me?

I glanced around the studio, my chest tightening. The camera lights were off. The old editing computers hadn't been turned on in weeks. A single script lay on the table, my father's last dream project, the one he couldn't fund anymore. Our family legacy on the edge of disappearing.

I swallowed hard. "When... where?"

"Mr. Blackwood's penthouse. Two hours. The car will pick you up."

The line clicked off before I could say yes or no.

---

I stood there for a full minute, staring at my silent phone, my pulse pounding in my ears.

This was insane. Absolutely insane.

I had been struggling for months to keep my father's studio alive. Every day felt like a battle against invisible walls rejected script pitches, overdue loans, bills stacking higher than the ceiling. Just last night, I had cried myself to sleep because the electricity company was threatening to cut our lights.

And now a billionaire wants me to... marry him?

For six months?

I pressed my palms to my face, my mind spinning. A hundred alarms went off in my head. This could be dangerous. Humiliating. Life-ruining.

But behind all that fear, a flicker of hope sparked. What if this is the miracle I need?

I looked at the stack of overdue bills again. My father's dream, the one he'd sacrificed everything for flashed in my mind.

With a deep, shaky breath, I whispered to the empty room, "What do I have to lose?"

---

Two hours later, I was standing in front of the sleek black doors of the Blackwood Tower Penthouse, my reflection trembling in the polished glass. The private elevator ride up had been so silent I could hear my own heartbeat.

I wasn't a glamorous woman. I had borrowed my best blouse from my friend Chloe, paired with my only pencil skirt that didn't have a thread loose. My hair was down, my makeup light. I felt like a misplaced extra in a world where everyone else was born a star.

The door opened without a sound, and the first thing I noticed was glass and sky.

The entire penthouse seemed to float above the city, floor-to-ceiling windows giving an endless view of Manhattan. The furniture was sleek and dark, the kind of expensive minimalism that screamed untouchable power.

And then I saw him.

Liam Blackwood.

He was taller than I expected, broad-shouldered in a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my apartment rent for a year. His black hair was perfectly styled, his jaw sharp enough to cut glass. Those famous steel-gray eyes swept over me, cool and unreadable, and I suddenly understood why people called him a king in his world.

"Miss patel." His voice was deep, smooth, and entirely without warmth. He didn't offer a hand. He just gestured to a leather chair across from him. "Sit."

I obeyed, my knees weak.

He studied me for a long, heavy moment, like I was a puzzle he wasn't sure he wanted to solve. Then he slid a folder across the glass table.

"I need a wife," he said, like he was discussing a business merger. "Temporarily."

My mouth went dry. "You... you're serious."

"I don't joke about contracts." His tone was crisp. "Six months. In exchange, you'll receive financial compensation significant enough to clear your debts and, I assume, save that struggling studio of your father's."

My spine stiffened. "You... you looked into me?"

"Of course." His gaze didn't waver. "I don't enter agreements with unknown variables."

Anger flared in my chest, mixing with fear and disbelief. "And what do you get out of this? A wife who... pretends to adore you?"

His mouth curved not quite a smile, more like a smirk. "I get stability. My investors want a man they can trust. A married man appears... settled."

I couldn't look away from his eyes. Cold. Calculating. And yet... I swore I saw a flicker of something else. Loneliness, maybe. Or curiosity.

He leaned back in his chair. "You'll have rules. Appear with me at public events. Smile for cameras. No scandals. No questions about my personal life. And above all..."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "No falling in love."

I let out a nervous laugh, trying to cover the shiver that ran down my spine. "Don't worry, Mr. Blackwood. I don't believe in love at first sight."

"Good." His gaze held mine. "Then we understand each other."

I stared down at the contract in my trembling hands. My entire life my father's legacy, my future balanced on a single decision.

I picked up the pen.

"Take your time," Liam said. "But once you sign... there's no turning back."

---

The skyline glittered beyond the glass walls, a thousand city lights like stars. My heart thundered in my chest. I thought about the unpaid bills, the empty fridge, my father's tired eyes. I thought about the girl I used to be, the one who believed in happy endings.

I pressed the pen to the paper.

And then... the front door burst open.

I jumped, spinning toward the sound.

A tall, stunning woman in a blood-red dress stormed in, heels clicking against the marble. Her beauty was sharp, lethal, the kind that belonged on magazine covers.

Her eyes locked on me with pure venom.

"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping honey and poison. "So this is the little gold-digger you're replacing me with?"

froze, the pen hovering over the contract, as Liam's jaw clenched