Love Remade – When Love Goes Haywire

The silence stretched between us like a taut wire ready to snap. I stared at Harris Kingston, certain I had misheard him, certain that the stress of the past few months had finally broken something vital in my brain.

"Marriage?" The word fell from my lips like a stone dropping into still water, creating ripples of disbelief that spread through my entire body. "You want to marry me?"

He didn't flinch at my shocked tone. Instead, he moved with that same controlled grace back to his desk and pulled out a thick manila folder. When he opened it, I caught a glimpse of photographs-pictures of me leaving the hospital, walking into my school, sitting in my tiny apartment with Maya. My blood turned to ice.

"You've been watching me."

It wasn't a question. The evidence was right there in black and white, proof that this man had been studying my life like I was some kind of specimen under a microscope.

"I conduct thorough research on all my investments," he said, his voice maddeningly calm as he spread the contents of the folder across his desk. "Your family's debt represents a significant financial interest to me."

"Investment?" Anger flared in my chest, hot and fierce. I stood up so quickly that my chair rolled backward. "My family's suffering is an investment to you?"

For the first time since I had entered his office, something flickered in those steel-gray eyes. It was gone so fast I might have imagined it, but for just a moment, I could have sworn I saw regret.

"Sit down, Miss Bennett." His voice carried the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed, but I remained standing. "Let me explain."

"Explain how you justify stalking a woman and her family? Explain how you can look at medical bills and see profit margins?" My hands shook with rage, and I didn't care that he could see it. "Explain how you think any of this is acceptable?"

"Because I need a wife," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "And you need money. It's a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The casual way he said it-like he was discussing the weather instead of the most important decision of my life-made me want to throw something at his perfectly handsome face.

"You're insane," I whispered, backing toward the door. "Completely and utterly insane."

"Am I?" He moved around the desk again, but this time he didn't stop until he was close enough that I could see the darker flecks of gray in his eyes. "Your mother needs heart surgery that costs two hundred thousand dollars. Your brother wants to go to MIT, which requires another hundred and fifty thousand over four years. Your house has a foreclosure notice that gives you exactly twenty-three days to come up with fifty thousand dollars."

Each number hit me like a physical blow. He knew everything-every debt, every dream, every desperate hope my family clung to.

"I can make all of that disappear with one signature on a marriage certificate," he continued, his voice dropping to something that was almost gentle. "All I ask in return is one year of your life."

"One year?" My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, small and uncertain.

He nodded, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out what looked like a legal document. "One year as my wife. You would live in my penthouse, attend social functions with me, and play the role of devoted spouse when necessary. In exchange, all of your family's debts will be paid, your mother will receive the best medical care money can buy, and your brother will have a full scholarship to any university he chooses."

The papers trembled in my hands as I took them from him. The words blurred together-legal jargon about separate bedrooms, no physical intimacy, and monthly allowances that were more than I made in a year of teaching.

"This is a business contract," I said, scanning the terms that reduced marriage to a series of obligations and restrictions.

"Exactly." He returned to his position behind the desk, suddenly all business again. "Nothing more, nothing less. At the end of the year, we divorce quietly, and you're free to return to your life with your family's future secured."

I looked up from the contract to find him watching me with an expression I couldn't read. "Why me? You could have any woman in New York. Why choose someone you have to blackmail into marrying you?"

Something dark flickered across his face. "Because you need me more than I need you. That ensures you won't betray me the way..." He stopped himself, jaw clenching tight.

"The way someone else did?" I guessed, remembering Tommy's research about Harris Kingston's past. There had been rumors about an ex-fiancée, whispers of betrayal and stolen secrets.

His silence was answer enough.

"I need time to think," I said, clutching the contract against my chest like a shield.

"You have twenty-four hours." He pressed a button on his desk, and immediately the door opened to reveal a woman who could have been a model. Tall, elegant, with platinum blonde hair and ice-blue eyes that assessed me with undisguised disdain.

"Victoria will escort you out," Harris said, his attention already turning back to other papers on his desk, as if proposing marriage was just another item on his daily agenda.

But Victoria didn't move toward the door. Instead, she smiled-a cold, calculating expression that made my skin crawl.

"So you're the little teacher who's caught Harris's attention," she said, her voice carrying a slight accent I couldn't place. "How... quaint."

Harris's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Victoria, I said escort Miss Bennett out. Not interrogate her."

"Of course." Her smile widened, but her eyes remained fixed on me. "It's just that I find it fascinating how Harris always seems to choose women who are so... temporary."

The word hit me like a slap. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment and anger, but before I could respond, Harris was on his feet.

"That's enough." His voice carried a warning that would have frozen hell itself. "Leave. Now."

Victoria's laugh was like breaking glass. "Oh, Harris. Still so protective of your little projects." She turned to me, and her next words made my blood turn to ice. "Tell me, Flora-may I call you Flora?-has he mentioned that he already knows exactly how this marriage will end? Because I do. I know everything about Harris's plans."

"Victoria." Harris's voice was deadly quiet, but she ignored him completely.

"Ask him about the prenup clause, sweetheart. Ask him what happens when the year is up and you've served your purpose." She leaned closer, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet. "Ask him why he really chose you."

Before I could process her words, she was gone, leaving me standing in that opulent office with more questions than answers and a contract that suddenly felt like a trap instead of salvation.

Harris ran a hand through his dark hair, the first sign of anything other than perfect control I had seen from him.

"Don't listen to her," he said quietly. "Victoria has her own agenda."

"And what's yours?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What aren't you telling me, Harris Kingston?"

He looked at me for a long moment, and I could have sworn I saw something vulnerable in those steel-gray eyes before the mask slipped back into place.

"Twenty-four hours, Flora. That's all you get."

As I walked toward the elevator on shaking legs, Victoria's words echoed in my mind. What did Harris really want from me? And more importantly, what would happen when he got it?

The elevator doors closed, and I caught my reflection in the polished steel. I looked like a woman standing on the edge of a cliff, about to jump into an abyss with no idea how deep it went.

But what choice did I have?

My phone buzzed with a text from Tommy: "Mom's asking for you. Doctors want to talk."

Twenty-four hours suddenly felt like a lifetime and an instant all at once.