Live For This Moment

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, but the tension in Aria Bennett's chest rang louder than anything around her. She stepped out onto the 41st floor of Blackwell Enterprises, her heels tapping against the glossy marble like distant echoes of a past she had buried long ago.

The receptionist at the front desk barely met her eyes.

"He's expecting you," the woman said quietly, almost with pity, motioning toward the double glass doors at the end of the corridor.

Aria swallowed hard.

Everything about this place screamed power-cold, clinical, and calculating. The walls were silver and white, every surface spotless. And at the very end of it all, behind those closed doors, waited the man she hadn't seen in five years. The man she once called husband. The man whose name she had tried so hard to forget.

Her fingers brushed the folder she carried, filled with documents, desperation, and one final thread of dignity. She took a breath she didn't feel and pushed the door open.

Damon Blackwell didn't even glance up.

He sat behind a massive glass desk, dressed in obsidian black, pen gliding across paper as if her arrival were just a scheduled inconvenience. His features were sharper than she remembered-his jaw more defined, the lines around his eyes deeper, colder. There was no trace of the boy who once kissed her under the rain. Only the tycoon who had built empires-and destroyed them.

"You came," he said without emotion, eyes finally meeting hers.

Aria lifted her chin. "You summoned me."

He set his pen down slowly. "Everyone has a choice, Aria. You just always seem to choose betrayal."

Her stomach twisted. She had braced herself for cruelty-but not the familiar sting of his voice. Not the weight of her name rolling off his tongue like a curse.

"I'm not here to argue," she said, forcing her voice steady. "Let's just get this over with."

Damon's lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Oh, I agree."

He reached beneath his desk and slid a thick folder across the surface toward her.

She stared at it without touching it.

"What is this?"

He leaned back, folding his arms. "A contract. You marry me. For ninety days."

Aria didn't move. Her fingers stayed clenched around her file as her gaze locked onto the contract on his desk. Damon sat like a statue, waiting. Silent. Powerful. Like he knew she'd cave, like he'd already won.

"How long have you been planning this?" she asked, voice tight.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them. "Since the moment your father's company fell into flames-flames he lit with lies and fraud. I thought you might visit me sooner... but I suppose pride kept you starving longer than necessary."

The heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment-it was fury, shame, and helplessness twisting together.

"You don't know anything about me anymore, Damon."

"I know enough." He stood slowly, rounding the desk like a panther circling wounded prey. "I know your mother's in a private hospital with mounting bills. I know your brother's missing again, likely in trouble. And I know you're desperate enough to walk into the devil's den with a heartbeat full of regret."

She flinched, but held her ground. "And you think this-marriage-will make you feel better? Like vengeance tastes sweeter when it's wrapped in silk and signatures?"

He was in front of her now, so close she could smell his cologne-dark, expensive, intoxicating. "This isn't about feeling better. This is about control. You want help? Then it comes with a price."

His gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then flicked away. Dismissive.

Aria's throat ached from holding back all the words she wanted to throw in his face. But this wasn't about pride anymore. It was about survival. She thought she'd buried that chapter of her life-him, them-but apparently Damon Blackwell wasn't done writing their story.

"What's in it for you?" she asked finally, her voice hoarse.

His lips curved, but it wasn't a smile. "Everything."

The air between them crackled with unresolved history-love twisted into rivalry, affection warped into cold transactions. She reached out slowly, fingers brushing the edge of the folder.

"I'll read it," she said.

"You'll sign it," he corrected. "Because the longer you hesitate, the more damage your silence costs your family."

She hated him in that moment. Not because he was cruel. But because he was right.

Aria opened the folder, and her world narrowed into black text and a line for her name.

Marry me for ninety days.

No love. No promises. No escape.

Just a signature between salvation and surrender.

And Damon Blackwell was holding the pen.

Aria's fingers trembled as she held the pen Damon handed her. She hadn't even read the fine print yet, but she already felt the weight of each word like chains waiting to close around her wrists.

Her eyes scanned the first page. A legally binding union. Term: ninety days. Public appearances required. Shared residence mandatory. Clause 7: All media inquiries will be managed by Blackwell Enterprises' legal department. Clause 12: No physical intimacy required unless both parties agree.

That last one made her heart skip a beat-and not in a way that thrilled her.

She looked up at him. "So that's what this is? A façade to protect your precious image?"

Damon leaned against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. "Call it what you want. My investors need stability. A reckless bachelor CEO doesn't inspire much confidence. A married man, on the other hand..." He shrugged. "It's a chess move. And you're the queen I need on the board."

She hated how calmly he said it. Like their past didn't matter. Like her heart hadn't been shattered when he walked away years ago with nothing more than a note.

"No one else wanted to play house with the ice king?" she snapped.

Something dark flickered in his eyes. "I didn't want anyone else."

The silence between them thickened. Aria gripped the pen tighter, trying to breathe through the noise in her head.

"You left me," she said, almost a whisper. "No closure. No explanation. You vanished. And now you're asking me to pretend we're something we're not?"

His jaw tensed, but he didn't respond. Not immediately.

"I'm not asking," he finally said. "I'm offering you a lifeline. You need me, Aria. Don't pretend you walked in here for charity."

That hurt more than it should have. But he wasn't wrong. Her mother's condition had worsened. Her bills were snowballing. And her pride? It was already in pieces on this office floor.

"Will you really help my mother?" she asked quietly. "You'll pay the hospital bills? Keep her treatment going?"

"Yes," Damon said, without hesitation. "Full coverage. For as long as the contract is honored."

Aria felt the sting of tears but blinked them away before he could see. This wasn't about emotion anymore. This was survival-hers and her family's.

Her signature slid across the line before she could overthink it.

Damon reached out, took the folder, and shut it with a soft snap that sounded more like a trap closing than a business transaction ending.

"Good," he said smoothly. "We're married."

She stared at him. "We're not even wearing rings."

Without missing a beat, he opened his drawer and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a diamond ring-massive, cold, and lifeless.