Chapter 1

The day I buried my mother, my fiancé satisfactorily posted his engagement photos with my best friend.

I stood in the rain outside the cemetery, mascara streaking my face, scrolling through Tyler's Instagram story—him kissing Jade, the diamond ring on her finger identical to the one I'd returned two days ago.

The caption read: "When you know, you know."

They'd been sleeping together for over a year. I was the last to find out.

Mom's medical bills had wiped out every cent I had. Tyler had promised to help, then disappeared. When I called Jade crying, she told me, "Maybe if you'd been less focused on your dying mom and more on your man, he wouldn't have come to me."

Now Mom was gone. My apartment lease expired tomorrow. I had eleven dollars in my bank account and a college degree that couldn't even get me a waitressing job in Ashford City.

So when I saw the ad taped to the cemetery gate—yes, the cemetery gate—I didn't even hesitate.

WANTED: Contract Wife. Six months. $500,000 upon completion. Must be willing to relocate immediately. No questions asked.

There was no company name. No phone number. Just a QR code.

I scanned it. A black screen loaded with a single line of white text:

"Do you agree to the terms?"

Below it, two buttons: YES and NO.

I pressed YES.

The screen went dark. I thought the website had crashed.

Then a black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb, so silent it seemed to materialize from the rain itself. The rear door opened on its own.

A man's voice came from inside, low and unhurried, like smoke curling through the dark.

"Get in, Vivian. You're already late."

I hadn't told anyone my name.

Every instinct screamed at me to run. But I looked down at my phone—the screen now showed my bank account with a fresh deposit of $50,000 and a single message:

"A gesture of good faith. The remaining $450,000 upon contract completion."

Eleven dollars or fifty thousand and one dollars.

I got in the car.

The interior was pitch black. I couldn't see his face, only the outline of a jaw, sharp enough to cut glass, and eyes that caught the streetlights like a cat's—no, not a cat.

Something older. Something that watched the way a predator watches.

"Who are you?" My voice came out shakier than I wanted.

"Your husband," he said simply. "As of three minutes ago."

He held up a marriage certificate. My name was already signed on it.

In handwriting that looked exactly like mine.

"That's not possible. I never signed—"

"You clicked 'yes.'" His voice carried a faint amusement. "In my world, that's more binding than any signature."

His world?

Before I could ask what that meant, the car began to move, and the locks clicked shut.

"The contract is simple," he continued, as if kidnapping women from cemeteries were perfectly routine. "Play my wife for six months. Attend events. Share my home. Convince my family the marriage is real."

"And if I refuse?"

The air in the car shifted. The temperature dropped so fast I could see my breath.

His eyes found mine in the dark, and for one paralyzing second, they glowed a deep, burning gold.

"You already said yes, Vivian."

He smiled, and I saw the tips of his canines were just a little too sharp.

"There is no refusing."