The CEO's Reluctant Bride

Sleep was a distant luxury.

Ava sat at her kitchen table, the soft hum of the city beyond her window barely registering. Her laptop screen glared with unpaid bills and red warning notices. Her phone—abandoned on the counter—buzzed intermittently, each vibration another reminder of how quickly time was running out.

She rubbed her temples. Her mind replayed Adrian's words on a relentless loop:

"Accept... and you walk out of here with a solution."

Marrying him.

The idea alone felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, heart pounding, wind threatening to push her over.

Her gaze drifted to the framed photo on the counter—her father, arms proudly around her at her college graduation. His smile, warm and hopeful, twisted something deep in her chest. I promised I'd keep the company alive. And yet here she was, backed into an impossible corner.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, she picked it up. Chloe—her best friend.

She hesitated, then answered. "Hey..."

"You sound like hell," Chloe said bluntly. "What's going on? I've been calling you all day."

Ava swallowed. "It's... complicated."

Chloe sighed. "Ava, you don't have to handle everything alone. Let me—"

"I got an offer," Ava cut in, voice raw. "To save the company."

"That's good, right?" A beat. "Wait. Why do you sound like you just sold your soul?"

Ava closed her eyes. "Because the offer... involves marrying Adrian Sinclair."

Silence. Then: "You're kidding."

"I wish I was."

Chloe's shock quickly turned into outrage. "That arrogant, cold-hearted—! Ava, you can't seriously be considering—"

"What choice do I have?" Her voice cracked. "It's either this or let everything my father built collapse. I've tried everything else."

Chloe's anger softened. "I just... I don't want you to get hurt."

Too late for that. Ava stared at the contract folder on the table, its presence heavy, taunting. "I know."

The next morning

Sinclair Corp loomed even taller today—or maybe it was just the weight pressing down on her shoulders. Ava's steps echoed through the marble lobby, each stride a battle between pride and necessity.

Just sign it and get out.

The elevator doors slid open. His office was the same—sleek, cold, unyielding. Adrian Sinclair stood by the window, city skyline stretching behind him. At her entrance, he turned, gaze sharp yet unreadable.

"You're early," he noted.

"I didn't sleep," she shot back, then immediately regretted the hint of vulnerability.

He gestured to the chair. "Sit."

Reluctantly, she did. The contract lay open on the desk between them—black ink, neat clauses, legal jargon that felt far too personal.

Adrian's voice broke the silence. "It's straightforward. One year. Public appearances as my wife. No actual... marital obligations unless you choose otherwise."

Ava's pulse quickened at the implication she refused to acknowledge.

"You'll have financial backing for your company immediately upon signing," he continued. "Divorce after a year with no strings attached."

"And what do you get?" she challenged.

"A wife," he said simply. "For appearances. Certain deals favor stability." A pause. "And you're... convenient."

Her jaw clenched. "Glad to know I'm just convenient."

He didn't flinch. "You came to me, Ava. This is business."

Business. That's all this was to him. Numbers. Strategy. Not the turmoil twisting her insides into knots.

Her gaze dropped to the pen resting beside the contract. So small. So easy to pick up. Sign your name. Save the company. Lose yourself.

Adrian watched her, patient but piercing. "No one's forcing you," he said quietly. "Walk away if you can live with the fallout."

Her fingers hovered over the pen. Dad's company. Our legacy. Everything on the line.

Her heart thundered. This is madness.

But her hand closed around the pen anyway.

And then she paused, pen tip inches from the paper.

One more breath. One more chance to walk away.

Her world teetered on the edge.

And she had to choose.