The last thing Stella Parker expected after graduating with a degree in Early Childhood Education was to be unemployed and broke in the city of dreams. But Los Angeles was cruel to dreamers. Rent was sky-high, the job market was cutthroat, and her emergency savings had dried up faster than she'd anticipated. She had applied everywhere—from preschools in Culver City to daycare centers in Koreatown—but every interview ended the same: “We’ll be in touch.” They never were.

So, when she saw the listing for a full-time live-in nanny position in Beverly Hills with an outrageously high salary, she didn’t hesitate. It sounded too good to be true, but she clicked “Apply” anyway, expecting nothing. What she didn’t expect was to get a response within an hour, a background check within a day, and a job offer by the end of the week.

The address? Salvatore Estate.

The employer? Dominic Salvatore.

She’d heard the name before. Everyone had. Billionaire investor, tech mogul, real estate tycoon. A man known for hostile takeovers and zero tolerance for nonsense. The gossip sites called him “The Cold King.” Pictures showed a tall, broad-shouldered man in custom suits, always surrounded by powerful people—never a smile, never a scandal. Mysterious. Untouchable.

The moment Stella stepped through the wrought iron gates and laid eyes on the mansion, her knees went weak. It wasn’t just a house—it was an empire. White stone, glass walls, fountains, and manicured gardens that looked like something out of a European palace. She felt painfully out of place in her thrifted blouse and flats.

But when the front door opened, it wasn’t Dominic who greeted her. It was a small voice.

“Hi,” said a girl with a mop of chestnut curls and big brown eyes. “Are you my new Mary Poppins?”

Stella knelt, smiling. “Only if you’re okay with me not flying in on an umbrella.”

The girl giggled. “That’s okay. I don’t like heights anyway.”

“Ava,” came a firm voice.

She turned. And there he was. Dominic Salvatore.

He was even more intimidating in person—tall, with sharp cheekbones and piercing grey eyes that looked like they could cut glass. His tailored suit looked like it cost more than her college tuition. He didn’t offer a smile, just a curt nod.

“Miss Parker. You're early.”

“Better than being late,” she replied, managing to keep her voice steady.

He studied her for a beat longer than necessary, as if analyzing her potential return on investment. Then he motioned for her to follow. “Let’s talk terms.”

The living room was minimalist and modern, decorated in neutral tones and tasteful art. He handed her a folder. Inside was a contract—twenty pages long.

“Everything you need to know is in there. Salary, expectations, non-disclosure terms. You'll be living on the east wing. Ava is homeschooled, but she'll need structure, creativity, and emotional support. She’s... been through a lot recently.”

Stella skimmed the papers, then glanced at him. “Why me?”

“You were recommended by a colleague whose child you tutored last year. And frankly, Ava liked you in five seconds. That’s a new record.”

That small, unexpected compliment made her heart do a strange little somersault. She nodded slowly. “I’ll take the job.”

He extended his hand. She shook it.

Neither of them realized that a handshake was the start of something far more complicated than employment.

...................................

To be continued...

Los Angeles, One Month Later

Stella quickly fell into a routine at the Salvatore estate. Mornings began with breakfast in the solarium, followed by homeschooling lessons tailored to Ava’s quiet intelligence. Afternoons were filled with art projects, storytelling, and sometimes just lying in the grass naming cloud shapes. In the evenings, Dominic would join them for dinner—briefly, always dressed sharply even at home, always carrying the weight of a hundred decisions in his shoulders.

He wasn’t warm. But he wasn’t cold, either. He was watchful. Respectful of her space. Protective of Ava. Sometimes he would sit in on their reading sessions, listening in silence, as if absorbing the softness he had long forgotten. He rarely smiled. But when he did, even for a second, it made her chest tighten in confusing ways.

One evening, after Ava had gone to bed, Stella found herself in the library—one of the only rooms in the mansion that felt lived-in. She was curled up on the leather couch, sipping hot cocoa, flipping through a picture book she’d found tucked between two thick volumes on economics. She didn’t notice Dominic enter until he spoke.

“I have a proposal for you.”

She jumped, nearly spilling her drink. “Geez. Could you wear a bell or something?”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to sneak up.”

He stepped closer, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a folder—not unlike the one from her first day. He sat in the armchair across from her, placed the folder on the table, and leaned forward.

“I need you to marry me.”

There was a long pause.

She blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

“Just on paper. It’s for Ava.”

She stared at him like he’d grown horns. “Are you serious?”

“Very.”

He opened the folder. Inside was another contract. Simple. Direct. Marriage agreement. No romance, no legal claim to assets, just a strategic move to strengthen his case for permanent custody of Ava.

Stella set her mug down slowly. “Okay, pause. Why would I need to marry you for that?”

“My late brother’s ex is contesting my custody. She’s claiming instability in Ava’s home life because she’s being raised by a single man with no immediate maternal figure. She wants Ava back—for the child support, not the child.”

“And you think making me your pretend wife fixes that?”

“It would look better in court. More stable. Traditional. And… Ava already sees you as family.”

The words landed with weight. Ava. Sweet, giggly Ava who had taken Stella’s hand the second day and said, “You’re my favorite grown-up.” Stella adored that little girl more than she expected—more than she realized until that moment.

But still.

“This is crazy,” she said. “People don’t just ask for fake marriages over hot cocoa.”

“Desperate times,” he replied. “And it’s not fake in the eyes of the court. It’ll be legal. But temporary. One year, maybe two. Just long enough to secure the adoption. After that, we can quietly divorce.”

“And what happens if it leaks to the press?” she asked. “You’re a public figure.”

“I’ll handle it.”

She stood up, pacing. “This is insane. This is… I mean, what would people think?”

He watched her calmly. “They’ll think I’m finally settling down. That Ava’s found a mother. That maybe—just maybe—I’m capable of love.”

Stella stopped. Her heart skipped.

“You’re not,” she said quietly. “Capable of love, I mean.”

His eyes darkened. “Ava’s proof I care deeply. But love… romantic love… That’s not part of the deal.”

Stella looked at the contract again. The paper was crisp. The offer, surreal. Her head said run. Her heart whispered Ava’s name.

And her lips, despite everything, said:

“I’ll think about it.”

Dominic stood, gathering the folder. “I’ll need your answer soon. The hearing is in three weeks.”

As he left the room, his voice drifted back:

“Thank you—for even considering it.”

Left alone, Stella stared at the flickering fireplace.

Marry a billionaire. For a child.

What could possibly go wrong?

.....................

To be continued

Three Weeks Later

The courthouse in downtown Los Angeles didn’t look like the place you signed your life away. It was sterile, efficient—white walls, polished floors, and fluorescent lighting that flickered a little too often. Stella sat in a navy-blue dress Dominic had picked out, her hands folded tightly in her lap. She kept checking the simple silver band on her finger as if it might disappear if she blinked.

There was no aisle. No music. No vows whispered in the wind.

Just a government official with a stack of paperwork, a sharp pen, and a clock on the wall.

“You may kiss the bride,” the official said dryly, clearly indifferent to the lack of affection between them.

Dominic turned to Stella. She braced herself—awkward, bristling.

But he didn’t lean in. Instead, he nodded slightly and said, “We agreed—no theatrics.”

The relief hit her faster than expected. She nodded back, her lips twitching. “Right. Strictly business.”

They shook hands instead of kissing.

And just like that, she was Mrs. Dominic Salvatore.

The car ride back to the estate was quiet. Stella stared out the window, watching LA blur past in a series of palm trees and neon signs. Dominic sat beside her, reading emails on his phone, completely composed—as if he hadn’t just married someone he barely knew.

“I sent the marriage certificate to the court,” he said casually. “Ava’s hearing is next Friday.”

She nodded, her fingers still worrying the ring. “Do we tell her?”

Dominic hesitated, then looked at her. “Not yet. Let’s ease her into it. She already sees you as family. Let’s not confuse her.”

Family.

That word rang differently now.

By the time they arrived at the estate, Ava was waiting in the foyer with a paper crown on her head and her stuffed unicorn in hand.

“Where were you two?” she asked, running up to them.

Dominic froze for a second, but Stella smiled and knelt. “Just doing grown-up things.”

Ava eyed the ring on Stella’s finger. “That’s new.”

Stella glanced at Dominic, unsure. He stepped forward.

“Miss Stella is going to stay with us forever now,” he said gently.

Ava beamed. “Yay! That means you’ll be my real family, right?”

Stella hugged her, heart squeezing. “Something like that, sweetheart.”

---

Later that night, Stella walked into the room that had once been just hers. Now, it was labeled “theirs.” The staff had already moved in Dominic’s things—his suits neatly hanging in the walk-in closet, a leather briefcase placed on the bench at the foot of the bed, a watch case displayed on the dresser.

It felt… surreal.

Dominic walked in minutes later, holding a small box.

“I had this delivered. It’s for show.”

He opened it to reveal a set of wedding rings—hers, a thin band of white gold set with a single diamond; his, a simple platinum band.

Stella touched it hesitantly. “Looks real enough.”

“It has to.”

She took the ring and slipped it on.

And that was when she noticed something else. On her pillow sat a single white rose. Next to it, a note in clean, expensive handwriting.

This may be pretend, but I won’t let you fall alone.

Her breath caught.

She turned to Dominic, but he was already in the bathroom, the door closing softly behind him.

She stared at the note again. A pretend husband. A pretend marriage.

But that didn’t feel pretend.

And her heart—the one she swore she’d protect—beat just a little too fast.

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