One Year with the Billionaire.

Ashton's Pov 

The woman sitting in my car smelled like vanilla and desperation. I'd built a fortune reading people, and Olivia Chen was drowning. The worn soles on her shoes, the way her hands trembled slightly, the dark circles under her eyes-she was one catastrophe away from complete collapse.

Perfect.

"Where do you live?" I pulled out of the parking garage.

"Oakland. Near Lake Merritt." She stared out the window, her reflection ghostly against the city lights. "You don't have to do this. I can take BART."

"At eleven at night? No." I merged onto the Bay Bridge. "Besides, I meant what I said. We need to talk."

"About your grandmother's insane comment?"

"About why she made it." I kept my eyes on the road. This conversation required precision. "I'm turning thirty-five in six months. My grandfather's will stipulates that I must be married by then to inherit full control of Blackwell Industries. If I'm not, the company goes to the board of directors."

She turned to face me. "That's medieval."

"That's my grandfather. He believed marriage created stability, commitment, all the qualities that make a good leader." I took the Oakland exit. "He was wrong, but his will is ironclad."

"So get married. I'm sure there's a line of women who'd love to be Mrs. Blackwell."

"Women who want the name, the money, the status. Not me." The bitterness surprised me. I usually kept that locked down. "I tried love once. It taught me that people are transactional. Everyone wants something."

"Wow. Cynical much?"

"Realistic." I glanced at her. "You think I'm wrong?"

She was quiet for a moment. "I think you're hurt. There's a difference."

Her honesty startled me. Most people told me what I wanted to hear. "Turn left here?"

"Yeah. The blue house." She pointed to a small, tired-looking Victorian that had seen better decades. "Thanks for the ride."

"Wait." I parked. "I wasn't finished. My grandmother meant what she said. She thinks you'd make a suitable wife."

Olivia laughed, sharp and humorless. "She saw me for five minutes while I was yelling at you."

"Exactly. You didn't simper or flirt or calculate. You treated me like a person, not a bank account." I turned to face her fully. "That's rare in my world."

"I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

"I need a wife for one year. Just long enough to secure the inheritance and satisfy the board. After that, we divorce quietly, you get a settlement, everyone moves on." I watched her face. "In exchange, I'll pay off your debts and give you enough capital to start your bakery. No strings, no tricks. Just a business arrangement."

Her mouth fell open. "You're insane."

"I'm practical. You need money. I need a wife. It's simple economics."

"It's fraud."

"It's a contract." I pulled out my phone, opening my notes. "I had my legal team draft a preliminary agreement on the drive here. Marriage for twelve months, public appearances as needed, separate bedrooms, complete discretion. You'll receive debt forgiveness up to five hundred thousand dollars plus two million upon completion of the contract term."

"You had this drafted while driving me home?" She stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "That's psychotic."

"That's efficient. I know what I want, and I go after it." I scrolled through the document. "You'd live in my penthouse, attend events, play the role of devoted wife. In return, you'd have financial security for the first time in years."

"I don't even know you."

"You'd know me better than most. We'd spend significant time together." I met her eyes. "Look, I've done my research. You owe three hundred thousand in medical debt from your mother's cancer treatment. Your catering business is barely breaking even. You work three jobs and still can't make minimum payments. The bank is threatening foreclosure on this house. Am I wrong?"

Her face went pale. "How do you know that?"

"I know everything about my business partners. And that's what you'd be. A partner in a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"This is crazy." But she didn't get out of the car.

"Crazy is working yourself to death for a debt you'll never escape. Crazy is sacrificing your dreams because the healthcare system failed your family." I softened my voice slightly. "I'm offering you a way out. One year of your life for complete financial freedom."

"Why me? You could hire an actress, find someone from your world who understands the rules."

"Because my grandmother likes you, and her approval matters to the board. Because you're genuine, which will sell the story. And because you're desperate enough to consider this but principled enough to do it right." I locked my phone. "Think about it. You have seventy-two hours."

"Why seventy-two hours?"

"Because that's when the bank forecloses on this house according to public records. Your brother Marcus still lives here while finishing his senior year at Berkeley. Where will he go when you lose it?"

Her hands clenched into fists. "You really are ruthless."

"I'm honest. That's more than most people offering you money." I reached across and opened her door. "My card is in your pocket. I put it there when you weren't looking. Call me when you've made your decision."

She patted her jacket and found the card, her expression somewhere between impressed and horrified. "You pickpocketed me?"

"I acquired your contact information creatively. There's a difference." I almost smiled. "Goodnight, Olivia."

She climbed out, then leaned back in. "What if I say no?"

"Then I find someone else, you lose your house, and we both wonder what might have been." I held her gaze. "But you won't say no. Because underneath that pride and those principles, you're a survivor. And survivors do what they must."

"You don't know me."

"I know you worked three jobs rather than let your brother drop out of school. I know you're still making your mother's recipes even though it must hurt. I know you kicked my car tire when you thought no one was watching." I started the engine. "I know exactly who you are, Olivia Chen. The question is whether you know yourself well enough to make the smart choice."

She slammed the door and walked toward her house without looking back.

I waited until she was inside before driving away. My phone rang immediately.

"Well?" Eleanor's voice was smug.

"She'll call."

"You sound certain."

"Because I am. She's perfect." I merged back onto the freeway. "She'll fight it, rationalize it, maybe even call me names. But in the end, she'll sign."

"And if you're wrong?"

I thought about the fire in Olivia's eyes when she'd called me out in front of my investors. The way she'd stood her ground even when it cost her everything.

"I'm not wrong. She just doesn't know it yet.