Chapter2 The Contract
Chloe
I gave Evelyn three non-negotiables before hanging up. One: Mom's treatment starts today. Two: coverage stays regardless of what happens with the marriage. Three: my brother Ethan never finds out the real terms.
She agreed too easily.
"The Astor family attorneys will reach out directly."
Twenty hours later, I stood in my bathroom mirror planning my disguise.
The past year had transformed me—two hundred pounds down to one-ten. But Evelyn and Mia still thought I was that fat, pathetic girl they'd poisoned.
Perfect. Let's keep it that way.
Severe black suit. Hair scraped into a tight bun. Oversized sunglasses and face mask.
"Since when does work require sunglasses indoors?" Ethan leaned in the doorway, hair sticking up everywhere.
"Coming down with something."
"Bullshit. You're lying."
"I'm handling something that'll help us. Trust me?"
His jaw worked. "Fine. But you look scary as hell. Like a sexy undertaker."
---
Century City Tower, 1:45 PM.
Emily Chen—senior Astor counsel—met me outside the conference room. Sharp suit, sharper eyes. "Ms. Harrison, thanks for coming."
I kept the sunglasses on.
Three lawyers waited inside.
"One addition," I said. "My brother doesn't learn about the medical arrangement."
"Done. Mr. Astor will be here shortly."
The door opened.
The man who walked in stopped my heart.
Not old. Not wheelchair-bound. Not disfigured.
Devastating.
Six-three, built like someone who earned their body through discipline. Broad shoulders testing the seams of his charcoal Tom Ford suit, tapering to a trim waist. White shirt open at the collar.
When he moved, I glimpsed his throat—that strong column that made my mouth go dry.
Dark hair too long, falling across his forehead. Sharp cheekbones, strong jaw with stubble. Full lips pressed hard.
His eyes—amber, almost gold. Predatory.
His hands made something clench low in my stomach. Long fingers adjusting a cufflink with controlled precision. A thin scar across his knuckles.
"Ms. Harrison." His voice was rough velvet. "Sorry to keep you waiting."
Something about that voice tugged at me. Familiar. Warm.
The lawyers stood. "Mr. Astor."
Julian Astor moved like a predator—every step measured, controlled. Even exhausted—dark circles, tension in his shoulders—he radiated magnetic pull.
He stopped beside me. Extended his hand.
The second we touched, heat shot through me. His grip was firm, warm, weirdly comforting. Like shaking hands with someone you already knew.
What the hell?
Our eyes met. Something flickered in those amber depths.
"Mr. Astor." I kept my voice steady.
"Julian, please." He held my hand too long, brow furrowed. "We're about to be married. Have we met before?"
My heart skipped. "I don't think so."
"Weird. You seem familiar."
He feels it too.
"Maybe you've seen me around the financial district," I said, sitting. "I work at Goldman Sachs. Junior analyst."
His eyebrows rose slightly. "Goldman. Competitive firm."
Not his company, thank god.
He sat across from me, close enough that I caught his presence—sandalwood, old books, something darker that made my pulse quicken.
"Mrs. Sterling painted a rather different picture of your circumstances."
My brain raced. "What did she tell you?"
"That you were struggling. Desperate, even." His mouth lifted slightly. "She made it sound like you'd be grateful for any arrangement that came your way."
"And you believed her?"
"I let people believe what they want." He leaned back, and the movement made his jacket pull across his shoulders. "Your sister, Mia Sterling. She made her feelings about this arrangement quite clear to my grandmother."
"She's not my sister. Mrs. Sterling raised me eighteen years, then threw me out when DNA proved I wasn't hers."
Interest flickered in his expression. "So Mia rejected this marriage."
"She thought you were bankrupt. Wheelchair-bound. Disfigured." I watched his reaction carefully. "Mrs. Sterling told me the same thing. That you were... undesirable. That's why they needed someone desperate enough to take the deal."
His smile turned cold. "And yet here I am. Not quite what they advertised."
"Not even close."
"People see what they want to see. Mia Sterling wanted an excuse to reject the arrangement, so she believed the rumors." He tilted his head.
"If she knew the truth—that Astor Capital is mine, has been for six years—I imagine she'd feel quite differently."
It clicked.
Mia hadn't just rejected him—she'd been chasing the "Astor connection" for months, desperate to secure the alliance. She'd only pushed me forward when she thought Julian was worthless.
A broken, bankrupt cripple she could dump on the family reject.
But he wasn't worthless. He was everything she'd been scheming to get.
And now he was mine.
Vicious satisfaction bloomed in my chest. Mia had poisoned me for five years, orchestrated that humiliating night, called me a pig.
And now I was marrying the man she would've clawed her way through hell to get—if only she'd known what he really was.
"Ms. Harrison?" Julian's voice cut through. "You're smiling."
"Just thinking this arrangement is practical."
"Practical?" He tilted his head.
"You need a wife. I need medical coverage. Clean transaction."
"Very clean." He signed with quick strokes, and I watched the flex of his fingers, the shift of his shoulders.
Why is this so attractive?
He slid the contract across. "Your turn."
Our fingers brushed. That same heat, that rightness.
He caught it too—eyes narrowing.
"Cold?" he asked.
"Nervous. Never been married."
"Me neither." His voice dropped. "But I keep feeling like I should know you."
My hand hesitated. "I have that feeling too."
"Very strange." Those amber eyes locked on mine. "Maybe we'll figure it out."
I signed fast. Chloe Harrison. Done.
"Ceremony's tomorrow at ten," Emily announced.
We stood, faced each other. He moved closer.
"One question," he said.
"What?"
He gestured at my sunglasses. "Why the disguise? I'd like to know what my wife looks like."
Because Evelyn and Mia can't know yet.
"Recent eye exam. Light sensitivity."
"Hmm." He didn't buy it. "Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. All of you."
"I'll be there."
"I know." He smiled, dangerous. "You need me too much to bail."
That should've pissed me off. Instead, his directness was refreshing.
"See you tomorrow, Julian."
His name felt natural.
"Chloe." The way he said it sent shivers down my spine. "Better get used to saying my name. You'll be Mrs. Astor soon."
I grabbed my bag and headed out.
"Chloe?"
I stopped.
"That feeling," he said quietly. "The familiarity. It's not a bad thing."
I didn't answer. Just left.
---
In the elevator, I finally breathed.
Julian Astor wasn't bankrupt. Wasn't disabled. He was powerful, successful, magnetic.
And Mia would've done anything to have him—if only she'd known the truth.
Tomorrow I'd become Mrs. Astor.
And when Mia found out, she'd lose her fucking mind.
My phone buzzed. Ethan.
how'd it go
I typed back.
getting married tomorrow
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK
tell you when i get home. make extra ramen
The elevator opened. I stepped into bright LA afternoon.
Tomorrow, everything changed.
And I couldn't fucking wait.