The cold weight of the pen in my hand felt heavier than I expected. I sat across from Maverick Ryder in his sleek, glass-walled office overlooking the city—one of those penthouse views that made the world seem both infinite and suffocating.
He didn't look away from me, those sharp dark eyes holding mine like a challenge. The billionaire's reputation preceded him: ruthless, arrogant, a man who played with power like a cat with a mouse.
"You understand the terms," he said, voice low and steady, like a verdict. "One year. Fake fiancée. Live-in clause. No real intimacy. Exclusivity."
The contract lay between us, every word written like a noose tightening around my future. I could feel the weight of it pressing down, but also the chance it represented.
I looked him in the eye and nodded. "I understand."
Maverick's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Good. Because once you sign, there's no turning back."
I picked up the pen, took a breath, and signed my name.
The ink dried before I could pull back.
And just like that, my life became a game—a dangerous, intoxicating game where I was both the prize and the player.
A flash of memory crashed over me—the night it all began.
The glittering rooftop party, the impossible man with a devilish grin, and the reckless offer that made me trade my freedom for a chance at something more.
But I wasn't prepared for how much I'd lose—and how much I'd want to keep.
The game had begun.