Chapter 1 - The Midnight Rain and the Coldest Threshold in Manhattan
The rain in Manhattan fell with a brutal, relentless fury, washing away the neon lights and turning the pavement into a slick mirror of misery. Nora Vance stood shivering under the metal awning of a closed bakery on Fifth Avenue, clutching a worn-out leather portfolio to her chest like a shield. Her world had collapsed three months ago when her parents died in a sudden accident, leaving her drowning in their hidden medical debts. Evicted from her apartment, abandoned by her fiancé the moment her bank account hit zero, and blacklisted from her architectural firm due to a vicious smear campaign orchestrated by her ex, Nora truly had no hope left. She was a ghost walking through a city of giants.
Then came the black Maybach that sprayed muddy water across her shoes as it idly halted beside the curb.
The tinted rear window rolled down silently, revealing a man carved from ice and expensive marble. Luca Moretti. The notoriously ruthless real estate tycoon, a man who owned half the skyscrapers in New York and whose cold, piercing silver eyes had broken stronger men in boardroom negotiations. Rumor had it his heart had turned to stone after the tragic death of his wife two years prior, leaving him a single father to a deeply traumatized five-year-old boy.
"Nora Vance?" Luca’s voice was a low, gravelly baritone that cut through the sound of the pouring rain.
Nora stiffened, clutching her portfolio tighter. "Who's asking?"
"Get in the car," Luca commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Your debts are paid. Your architectural license is restored. In exchange, you are going to save my son."
Nora didn't move. "I'm an architect, Mr. Moretti, not a nanny. What kind of sick joke is this?"
"It’s not a joke," Luca said, his silver eyes flashing with a desperate vulnerability he tried hard to conceal. "My son, Leo, hasn’t spoken a single word since his mother died. He retreats into dark closets, screams if anyone touches him, and every specialist in the country has given up. You grew up in foster care, Nora. You know what it means to survive with nothing. My son needs a mother who understands how to piece a broken soul back together. I need a contract wife to satisfy my board of directors and give Leo a home."
Nora looked down at her mud-stained shoes, then up at the dark, imposing silhouette of the Moretti estate visible through the rain. She had nothing left to lose.
May you like
"One year," Nora whispered, sliding into the leather interior of the Maybach. "And on my terms."
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