Chapter 1: Trapped by Fate

Ava Sinclair had never believed in fairy tales.

Love, romance, and happily-ever-afters belonged to people who had the luxury of dreaming. She didn’t. Not when she had spent the last five years struggling to pay rent, working two jobs, and desperately trying to keep her father’s failing art gallery from drowning in debt.

But tonight, all her efforts meant nothing.

Because she was about to lose everything.

The neon city lights flickered through the rain-streaked windows of the taxi as she gripped the crumpled piece of paper in her hand—the final notice of her father’s debt. The number at the bottom made her stomach twist. One million dollars.

How had it come to this?

Her father, a kind but hopelessly naïve artist, had taken a loan from the wrong people to save his business. And now, those people were coming to collect.

The taxi came to a stop in front of an intimidating glass skyscraper—Knight Enterprises.

Ava inhaled sharply. This was her last hope.

She had spent the entire day trying to negotiate with banks, begging for extensions, looking for any way out. But there was no way out. Unless she took the deal offered by the one man who could erase her father’s debt with a single signature.

Damian Knight.

The billionaire CEO. The man known for breaking his enemies without a second thought.

Ava’s heart pounded as she stepped into the gleaming marble lobby. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she approached the receptionist.

“I—I have a meeting with Mr. Knight,” she said, trying to steady her voice.

The receptionist barely glanced at her before gesturing toward the private elevator. “Top floor.”

Ava swallowed hard and stepped inside. The doors slid shut, trapping her in a box of cold steel and silence. Her fate had already been sealed the moment she walked through those doors.

The Billionaire’s Game

The top floor was nothing like she expected.

Dim lighting. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city skyline. A sleek, modern office that felt both luxurious and suffocating.

And then there was him.

Damian Knight stood near his desk, dressed in a tailored black suit, his presence so commanding it sent a shiver down her spine. He was tall, with sharp, chiseled features, piercing blue eyes that seemed to see right through her, and a coldness that wrapped around him like armor.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice smooth yet dangerously unreadable.

Ava clenched her fists. “I—”

“Sit,” he ordered, cutting her off.

She sank into the leather chair across from him, her pulse hammering.

Damian leaned forward, fingers steepled together. “I assume you know why you’re here.”

Ava’s throat felt dry. “Please… my father’s debt—”

“I don’t do charity, Miss Sinclair.”

The cold finality in his voice sent ice through her veins.

“But I do make deals.”

She stiffened.

“What kind of deal?” she whispered.

Damian’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “A simple one. Marry me.”

Ava’s breath hitched.

“What?”

“I need a wife. A temporary wife.” Damian’s tone was as casual as if he were discussing a business contract. “For six months. After that, you walk away—debt-free.”

Ava felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. “You want me to marry you? Just like that?”

“Yes.” His gaze was unwavering. “You need money. I need a wife. It’s a simple transaction.”

Ava shook her head. “That’s insane.”

Damian leaned back, watching her. “Is it?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. This was wrong. Every instinct in her body told her to run.

But then she thought about her father. His failing health. The art gallery that held his life’s work.

If she refused, he would lose everything.

She had no choice.

“What happens after six months?” she asked quietly.

Damian’s expression didn’t change. “We divorce. No strings attached.”

Ava hesitated. “And if I say no?”

He met her gaze. “Then your father’s debt goes to collections. And you know what happens then.”

A cold wave of fear crashed over her. She knew exactly what happened when debts weren’t repaid.

The answer was clear.

With a shaky breath, she whispered, “I’ll do it.”

Damian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he stood. “Good. We get married in two weeks.”

And just like that, Ava Sinclair was no longer just a struggling artist.

She was the future wife of Damian Knight—the most ruthless billionaire in New York.

And she had just sold herself to the devil.