Chapter Two: A Father’s Desperation

Aisha couldn’t breathe.

The man standing in the doorway looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine—tall, commanding, and dangerously handsome. But the coldness in his eyes stole the breath from her lungs. He wasn’t here to charm her. He was here to collect.

Zavian Knight walked into the Malik home like he owned it. In a way, he already did.

Her father stood quickly, his voice shaky but formal. “Mr. Knight. You’re early.”

“I like to conclude business swiftly,” Zavian said, without looking at him. His eyes were on Aisha—dark, assessing, as if he were sizing up a property, not a person.

Aisha took a step back, clutching the edge of the chair behind her. “You can’t be serious,” she whispered.

Zavian’s gaze flicked to her. “I don’t play games, Miss Malik. Your father agreed to my terms.”

“I didn’t.”

“You weren’t required to.”

Her father winced.

Aisha turned to him. “Baba, please tell me this isn’t happening. You can’t just hand me over like a—like a product!”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know this is unfair. But if I don’t do this, we lose everything. Rami won’t have a home. Our employees—hundreds of them—will be out of work. I don’t have another option.”

“You had me, and you didn’t even ask!”

Zavian interrupted. “This isn’t a love story, Aisha. It’s a transaction. You agree, and I rescue your family. You walk away, and everything crumbles. The choice is yours.”

Aisha turned on him, anger pulsing through her veins. “You’re a monster.”

He didn’t flinch. “I’ve been called worse.”

She stared at him, chest heaving. Everything she knew, everything she trusted, was crashing down around her. And at the center of the wreckage stood this man—calm, powerful, unfeeling.

But behind her fury was fear. For her brother. For her father. For the people depending on her.

“How long?” she asked, voice hollow.

Zavian’s brow arched. “How long what?”

“This marriage. How long would I have to be your… wife?”

He paused. “Two years.”

A business term.

A contract length.

“And after that?”

“Divorce. Clean. You’ll walk away wealthy. Independent. Free.”

She felt like screaming. But instead, she whispered, “You don’t want a wife. You want ownership.”

His lips curved—not quite a smile. “You’re smart. That’s good.”

Aisha turned back to her father. “If I say no, will you still be able to survive?”

He looked down. “No.”

Tears stung her eyes.

Then, slowly, she turned back to Zavian Knight.

“I’ll do it,” she said, her voice low but firm.

Zavian’s jaw tightened, and for the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Or regret. But it vanished too quickly to be sure.

“Good,” he said. “We’ll marry in five days.”

And with that, he walked out.

The silence left in his wake was deafening.

Aisha stood still, her soul cracking in places she didn’t know could break.

She had just agreed to marry the heartless billionaire.

And it was only the beginning.

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