Chapter 3 The proposal
The study was different from the rest of the house: older, more lived-in. Dark wood bookshelves lined the walls, packed with actual books, a massive desk dominated the space, cluttered with papers and photographs. And behind the desk sat Richard Frost.
Portland’s beloved billionaire philanthropist. In person he looked smaller, Older and Sick.
He was pale, his suit hung a little too loose on his frame. His hands, resting on the desk, trembled slightly. But his eyes were sharp. Intelligent. Calculating.
“Miss Hayes,” he said, “Thank you for coming. “You’re evicting my family, and now you want to talk? Seems like mixed messages.”
He gestured to one of the leather chairs across from his desk. “Please. Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Suit yourself.” Richard leaned back in his chair, studying her with those sharp eyes. “You look like your grandmother. Same stubborn jaw. Same fire.”
Ariella’s hands clenched into fists. “You knew my grandmother?”
“I met her once. Years ago. She was… formidable.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “She would have hated me, I think. Would have seen right through the suits and the money to what I really am.”
“And what’s that?”
“A man who makes difficult choices.” Richard’s smile faded. “A man who’s running out of time.”
The weight in those words made Ariella’s throat tight. She moved into the room despite herself, sinking into one of the leather chairs. It was too soft, too comfortable. Made her feel small.
“Why am I here?” she asked quietly.
Richard was silent for a long moment, just watching her. Then he reached into a drawer and pulled out a folder. Setting it on the desk between them.
“What do you know about Frost Industries?” he asked.
“You’re rich. You build things. You employed half of Portland.” Ariella shrugged. “That’ it.”
“The company has been in my family for three generations. Started by my grandfather as a lumber mill, grew into construction, expanded into tech, and real estate. We employ over ten thousand people across the Pacific Northwest. We fund schools, hospitals, and community programs.” Richard’s hands trembled as he opened the folder. “Everything I’ve built is in danger of disappearing.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“There’s a man named James Winters. He’s been orchestrating a hostile takeover of my company for the past year. Buying up shares, turning board members, manipulating stock prices.” Richard pulled out a document, slid it across the desk. “If he succeeds, he’ll get the company, Fire everyone and Sell off the assets. He’ll Destroy everything my family built.”
Ariella stared at the document dense legal text she couldn’t begin to understand. “I still don’t understand what this has to do with…”
“There’s a clause in the company bylaws,” Richard interrupted. “A protection put in place by my grandfather. It states that in the event of a hostile takeover attempt, control of the company automatically transfers to a married heir.” He paused. “Not just an heir. A married heir.”
The words hung in the air like smoke.
Ariella’s brain stuttered, trying to process. “You have a son. Aiden. Why doesn’t he just?’”
“He’s eighteen and unmarried.” Richard’s voice was gentle now, almost apologetic. “The bylaws require the heir to be married before they can take control.”
“So tell him to get married.”
“It’s not that simple. The takeover vote happens in three months. Even if Aiden met someone, courted them, and proposed, we don’t have time for a real relationship.” Richard leaned forward. “But we have time for a contract.”
The room tilted.
“You want me to…” Ariella couldn’t even finish the sentence.
“Marry my son,” Richard said simply. “For three months. Just the summer. A legal contract marriage to satisfy the bylaws and stop the takeover.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m desperate.” Richard’s voice cracked slightly. “I’m also dying.”
The word hit Ariella like a physical blow.
“Pancreatic cancer,” Richard continued, voice steady now. “Stage four. I have six months, maybe less. I need to know that before I die, my children will be protected. That the company won’t be destroyed. That ten thousand families won’t lose their livelihoods.” He paused. “And that includes your family, Miss Hayes.”
Ariella’s mind was racing. “What?”
“Your bakery’s building is Owned by Frost Industries. If Winters gets control, he’ll liquidate every property we own. Your bakery will be demolished within a month.” Richard pulled out another document. “But if you help me, I’ll do more than save your bakery. I’ll clear all your debts. I’ll set up a trust fund to cover your mother’s therapy and medical expenses. I’ll provide a college scholarship for you.”
“You’re trying to buy me.”
“I’m trying to save our families.” Richard’s eyes were pleading now. “I know what you’ve been through, Ariella. I know you lost your brother. I know your mother is struggling. I know you’ve been holding everything together all by yourself because no one else can.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “I know what it’s like to lose someone and feel like you’re drowning.”
Tears burned behind Ariella’s eyes. She dug her nails into her palms to keep them from falling.
“Why me?” she managed. “There are a thousand girls you could pay to do this. Rich girls who’d actually fit into your world.”
“Because Aiden needs someone real.” Richard’s answer came quickly and sure. “Someone who won’t use him. Someone who understands loss. Someone strong enough to stand beside him when I’m gone.” He paused. “Someone who needs this as much as we do.”
The truth of that last part hit like a punch to the gut.
“I can’t,” Ariella whispered. “I can’t just… marry someone I don’t know. Pretend to be in love. Live a lie.”
“You’d be saving thousands of lives. Including your own family’s.”
“By sacrificing myself.”
“By being brave enough to accept help.” Richard’s voice was soft now. “You’ve been drowning for six months, Ariella. Let me throw you a rope.”
Ariella thought about her mother’s empty eyes. About the bakery her grandmother had built from scratch. About bills stacked on the kitchen table and the eviction notice in her phone. “Does Aiden know?” she asked. Richard’s face went carefully blank. “Not yet.”
“You haven’t even asked him.”
“I’m asking you first. If you say no, there’s no point in putting him through this.” Richard leaned forward. “But if you say yes, I’ll talk to him. I’ll make him understand.”
“You’ll manipulate him, you mean.”
“I’ll do what I have to do to protect my children.” There was no apology in his voice. “Just like you’d do anything to protect your mother.”
He had her there, and he knew it.
Ariella stood on shaking legs. “I need time to think. To…”
“You have twenty-four hours.” Richard pulled out a business card, sliding it across the desk. “My private number.” Ariella took the card with numb fingers. “And if I say no?” she asked quietly.
Richard’s face was full of genuine sadness. “Then I’ll see you at the eviction hearing. And I’ll be very, very sorry.”
Ariella turned toward the door. Her legs felt like they were made of water.