Mae Velora had three dollars in her bank account, half a loaf of bread in her kitchen, and exactly one client who still owed her money. She stared at her phone for a few seconds before locking the screen. "Perfect." She dropped the phone onto the tiny table beside her bed and pulled the blanket over her face. Being broke was becoming a full-time job. Her alarm went off again. Mae groaned. "Okay. I'm awake." She wasn't. But rent was due in five days, so unfortunately, sleeping until death was not an option. She dragged herself out of bed and walked into the bathroom. The woman staring back at her from the mirror looked just as exhausted as she felt. Her short curly hair was a mess. There was a tiny stain on her white shirt. And the cheap watch around her wrist had stopped. Again. 11:47. Mae stared at it. "Seriously?" She tapped the glass. Nothing. She sighed and removed it. The watch had been a gift from her mother years ago. It wasn't valuable. It wasn't even particularly pretty. But Mae had worn it every day since she was nineteen. She couldn't bring herself to throw it away. She placed it on the sink and reached for her toothbrush. Her phone rang. She picked it up. "Hello?" "Mae, please tell me you've finished the sketch." Mae closed her eyes. "Good morning to you too, Zara." "Good morning. Now tell me you've finished it." "I've finished the outline." "That's not what I asked." "The outline is beautiful." "Mae." "Fine." Mae smiled despite herself. "Give me twenty minutes." "Your client is coming in fifteen." Mae froze. "Zara." "What?" "You could have started with that." "I did. You just spent five minutes complaining." The call ended. Mae stared at her reflection. "Twenty minutes." She grabbed her sketchbook. "Easy." It wasn't. Fifteen minutes later, Mae was running down the stairs of her apartment building with her shoes in one hand and her bag bouncing against her hip. Her landlord was standing by the entrance. He looked at her. She looked at him. He looked at the envelope in his hand. Mae immediately smiled. "Good morning, Mr. Cole." "Mae." "Beautiful weather today." "It's raining." "Exactly. Very beautiful." He sighed. "Your rent." "I know." "You said Friday." "I know." "Today is Friday." Mae stopped. "I also know that." He folded his arms. "I'm giving you until Monday." Her shoulders dropped with relief. "You're a wonderful man." "Monday, Mae." "I'll have it." "You said that last month." "This time I mean it." Mr. Cole walked away. Mae watched him go. Then she whispered, "I have absolutely no idea where that money is coming from." Her phone buzzed. A message from her client. Payment delayed until next week. Sorry. Mae stared at the message. Her smile disappeared. "Of course." She shoved the phone into her bag. Maybe today was going to be one of those days. It was. By noon, she'd finished the forensic sketch for a private investigator, spilled coffee on her only clean trousers, and received another message reminding her that her electricity bill was overdue. At least her work was interesting. Mae had always been good at remembering faces. It was one of the reasons she became a forensic sketch artist. Give her a description of someone's eyes, nose, jawline, scars, or even the shape of their smile, and she could put the face on paper. She remembered details people forgot. That was her gift. Unfortunately, gifts didn't pay bills. She packed her things and left the small studio she rented by the hour. Outside, the city was loud. Cars moved through the crowded street. People hurried past her. Businessmen spoke into phones. Street vendors shouted over one another. Mae pulled her bag closer and started walking. She had no idea that before the day ended, one of the richest men in the city would know her name. And by the end of the week, he would ask her to become his wife. Not because he loved her. Not because he wanted her. But because he believed she was the only woman who could save his life. The first time Mae saw Damian Khazri, she thought he was arrogant. The second thing she thought was that he looked expensive. The third thing was that he was about to get himself killed. It happened outside a pharmacy. Mae had stopped to buy painkillers when she noticed the black cars parked across the street. Three of them. All expensive. All tinted. A group of security guards stood around a tall man in a black suit. He was walking toward a waiting vehicle. Even from across the road, Mae could tell he was the kind of man people noticed. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Cold gray eyes. He didn't smile. He didn't need to. People moved out of his way without being asked. Mae took one more step toward the pharmacy. Then she noticed the truck. It was moving too fast. Straight toward him. "Hey!" Nobody reacted. Mae dropped her bag. "HEY!" The man turned. The truck swerved. One of his security guards shouted. Everything happened at once. Mae ran. She didn't think. She simply moved. She grabbed the man's arm and pulled him backward. The truck smashed into a streetlight. Glass exploded across the road. People screamed. Mae stumbled. The man's hand caught her waist before she could fall. For one second, they simply stared at each other. His gray eyes met hers. Mae's heart skipped. Not because she was attracted to him. Definitely not. She was just shocked. "Are you insane?" she demanded. His eyebrows moved slightly. "Excuse me?" "You were standing in the middle of the road." "I was on the sidewalk." "You were standing close enough to get hit." "You pulled me." "Yes." "Why?" Mae stared at him. "Because apparently I'm the only person here with functioning eyes." One of the security guards rushed over. "Mr. Khazri, are you hurt?" The man's expression hardened. "No." Mae looked between them. Mr. Khazri. That name sounded familiar. Then it clicked. Damian Khazri. CEO of Khazri Global. Pharmaceuticals. Technology. Hotels. Real estate. The man whose face appeared on business magazines every few weeks. Mae looked at him again. "Oh." His eyes narrowed. "You know me?" "Unfortunately." Something almost resembling amusement appeared in his eyes. Almost. Then it disappeared. A security guard approached Mae. "Miss, you should come with us." Mae immediately stepped backward. "No." Damian looked at her. "You saved my life." "I saved a stranger from getting hit by a truck." "I owe you." "You don't." "I insist." "I don't need anything." That was a lie. She desperately needed money. But there was something about him that made her uncomfortable. His gaze was too observant. Like he was studying her. "I'll compensate you," Damian said. Mae shook her head. "No." "Everyone has a price." She picked up her bag. "Apparently I don't." Then she walked away. She didn't see Damian watching her leave. She didn't see the confusion in his eyes. And she definitely didn't hear him ask his assistant one question. "Find out who she is." That night, Mae returned to her apartment exhausted. She kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the couch. Her phone buzzed. Unknown number. She ignored it. It buzzed again. She frowned and answered. "Hello?" "Miss Velora?" "Who is this?" "My name is Victor Hale. I'm Mr. Khazri's legal representative." Mae sat up. "Okay." "I'd like to meet with you tomorrow." "Why?" "I have a proposal." Mae laughed. "If this is about compensation, I already told Mr. Khazri I don't want anything." "This isn't compensation." Her smile faded. "What is it?" There was a pause. "Marriage." Mae blinked. "What?" "Mr. Khazri would like to offer you a marriage contract." Silence. Mae stared at the wall. Then she laughed. A real laugh this time. "Goodnight." She hung up. Her phone rang immediately. She ignored it. It rang again. Mae threw a pillow over her head. "Rich people are insane." She didn't know that the following morning, a black car would be waiting outside her apartment. She didn't know that Damian Khazri would personally step out of it. And she certainly didn't know that the marriage contract waiting inside his briefcase contained seven clauses. The seventh one would change her life forever. At 11:47 that night, Mae's cheap watch suddenly started ticking. Once. Twice. Then it stopped. Mae looked down at it. For the first time in five years, the hands moved past 11:47. And stopped at 11:48. Her phone rang. The same unknown number. Mae hesitated before answering. "Hello?" A man's voice came through the darkness. "Miss Velora." Mae frowned. "Who is this?" There was a long silence. Then the man said quietly, "You should never have saved Damian Khazri." The call ended. Mae's blood ran cold. Because the voice sounded exactly like Damian.

Mae did not sleep. Not because she was frightened. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. She simply couldn't stop thinking about the phone call. You should never have saved Damian Khazri. The words played over and over in her head. She checked the call log. Unknown number. No name. No number displayed. Nothing. Mae frowned at her screen. "Great." She tossed the phone onto the couch. "Now I'm being threatened by invisible billionaires." She walked toward the kitchen, then stopped. Her eyes fell on the watch sitting on the table. 11:48. It had never gone past 11:47 before. Mae picked it up. The second hand moved. Tick. Tick. Tick. Her stomach tightened. Then the watch stopped again. 11:48. "Okay." She slowly put it down. "That's creepy." She decided not to think about it. Tomorrow, she would return the watch to its drawer. She would ignore Damian Khazri. She would find a way to pay her rent. And she would continue living her completely ordinary life. That was the plan. Unfortunately, Damian Khazri had other plans. At exactly eight in the morning, someone knocked on Mae's door. She opened it expecting her landlord. Instead, she found two men in black suits standing outside. Behind them was Damian. Mae stared at him. He stared back. She looked down at her clothes. Oversized T-shirt. Shorts. One sock. She slowly looked back at him. "You're early." Damian's expression didn't change. "You're not dressed." "You came to my house." "You knew I was coming." "No, I didn't." His eyes narrowed slightly. Mae folded her arms. "Did your lawyer tell you I was expecting you?" "No." "Then why are you here?" "Because you refused my offer yesterday." "I didn't refuse it." "You hung up." "That's different." "It's exactly the same." Mae sighed. "Look, Mr. Khazri, whatever this is about, I'm not interested." Damian looked past her. His eyes briefly moved around the tiny apartment. The cracked wall. The old sofa. The stack of unpaid bills. The empty refrigerator visible through the kitchen doorway. He looked back at her. "You need money." Mae's face hardened. "That's none of your business." "I can solve that problem." "I don't want you to." "You should." "Why?" "Because I'm offering you ten million dollars." Mae went silent. Ten million. Her brain stopped functioning for approximately three seconds. Then she laughed. "You've got to be joking." "I'm not." "Ten million?" "Yes." "For what?" "Marrying me." Mae stared at him. Then she looked behind him. "Are you filming this?" Damian frowned. "What?" "There's no way this is real." "It is." "Why me?" "I'll explain inside." Mae immediately shook her head. "No." "Why?" "Because rich men don't normally stand outside broke women's apartments offering them ten million dollars before breakfast." "Then I'm not normal." "I noticed." For the first time, Damian almost smiled. Almost. He reached into his coat and pulled out a black folder. He handed it to her. Mae hesitated before taking it. The folder felt heavier than it should have. She opened it. The first page had her name. MAYA VELORA. Her stomach dropped. She flipped through the pages. Her address. Her employment history. Her education. Her financial records. Even the name of her childhood doctor was listed. Mae's eyes narrowed. "Did you investigate me?" "Yes." "Why?" "Because I don't marry strangers." "You aren't marrying me." "I am." "Well, I'm not marrying you." Damian's gaze remained steady. "You will." Mae slammed the folder shut. "That sounded incredibly arrogant." "It's realistic." "You're unbelievable." "I've been called worse." She wanted to throw the folder at him. Instead, she opened it again. "What exactly do you want from me?" Damian's expression changed. For the first time, something darker appeared in his eyes. "I need a wife." "Then find one." "I don't want one of those women." Mae blinked. "Those women?" "Women who want my money." She laughed. "You approached me with ten million dollars." "You're different." "You don't know me." "I know enough." "Apparently not." Damian stepped closer. "You're not impressed by me." "Should I be?" "Most people are." "That's their problem." His eyes held hers. "That's exactly why I chose you." Mae's heart skipped. She hated that it did. "There's another reason," he added. Her smile disappeared. "What reason?" Damian didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the watch on her wrist. Mae followed his gaze. Her mother's old watch. The one that had stopped at 11:47. Damian's expression changed. "Where did you get that?" Mae instinctively covered it. "It belonged to my mother." "How long have you had it?" "Years." "Did she give it to you?" "Yes." "Before she died?" Mae's expression hardened. "That's a strange question." "Answer me." "Why?" Damian stepped back. For the first time since she'd met him, he looked unsettled. "I've seen that watch before." Mae stared at him. "Where?" "I don't know." "That's impossible." "I know." He looked at the watch again. "That's the problem." Silence filled the doorway. Mae suddenly felt less amused. "What aren't you telling me?" Before Damian could answer, a black car stopped outside the building. Victor Hale stepped out. Damian's lawyer. He walked toward them carrying another folder. "Mr. Khazri." Damian nodded. Victor handed him the folder. "The revised contract." Mae frowned. "Revised?" "You haven't even convinced me to sign the first one." Damian opened the folder. "I know." He handed it to her. "Read it." Mae looked at him. "Here?" "Yes." She stepped aside. "Fine." Damian and Victor entered. Mae shut the door behind them. The contract was strange. Not because of the money. That part was straightforward. Ten million dollars upon marriage. A monthly allowance. A private residence. Complete financial security. No interference in her career. No forced intimacy. No obligation to have children. It was almost too generous. Then Mae reached the final page. There were seven clauses. The first six were ordinary legal conditions. The seventh wasn't. She read it twice. Then a third time. CLAUSE 7: The wife shall remain with the husband until October 7th. Under no circumstances shall the marriage be terminated before that date. Mae looked up. "Why October 7th?" Damian didn't answer. She looked at Victor. He remained silent. Mae turned back to Damian. "What happens on October 7th?" "Nothing." "Then why does the contract specifically mention it?" "Because it's important." "To who?" "Me." Mae closed the folder. "No." Damian's jaw tightened. "Mae." She froze. It was the first time he'd called her by her first name. It sounded strangely intimate. She shook off the feeling. "No. I'm not signing something when you refuse to tell me what happens on October 7th." Damian stared at her for several seconds. Then he said quietly, "I die." The room went silent. Mae's fingers tightened around the folder. "What?" "I die on October 7th." Victor immediately looked at Damian. "Sir-" "She deserves to know." Mae stared at him. "You're saying you're going to die?" "Yes." "How?" "I don't know." "When?" "11:47 PM." Mae's blood ran cold. Her eyes slowly dropped to her wrist. 11:48. Damian noticed. His expression changed. "Why did your watch stop?" Mae swallowed. "It always does." "At what time?" She hesitated. "11:47." Nobody spoke. Damian looked at Victor. Victor looked equally disturbed. Mae felt something cold crawl down her spine. "You've seen this before, haven't you?" Damian didn't answer. "Damian." He looked at her. "I've seen six women die." Mae's heart stopped. "Who?" "My wives." She stared at him. "Your wives?" "They all died on October 7th." Mae's fingers went numb. "All six?" "Yes." "And now you want me to marry you?" "Yes." "Knowing I could die too?" Damian's face was unreadable. "I won't let that happen." Mae laughed nervously. "You can't even stop yourself from dying." "I've been trying." "For how long?" He looked away. "Six years." Mae stared at him. Then something clicked. Six wives. Six deaths. One date. One time. And now him. She slowly opened the folder again. "Why haven't you told the police?" "Because they think every death was an accident." "And you don't?" "No." "Why?" Damian's voice dropped. "Because before every death, the same thing happens." Mae waited. "Every clock in the house stops at 11:47." Her blood ran cold. Her watch suddenly ticked. Once. Twice. Then stopped. 11:47. Mae slowly looked down. Damian saw it. His face went pale. Victor stepped forward. "That's impossible." Mae looked at Damian. For the first time, the billionaire looked genuinely afraid. Then every light in the apartment went out. Darkness swallowed the room. Mae gasped. A sound came from the old radio sitting on her kitchen counter. Static. Damian immediately reached for her. "Don't move." The radio crackled. Then a man's voice whispered through the darkness. "One wife remains." Mae couldn't breathe. The voice continued. "Seven days to sign." The lights came back on. The radio went silent. Mae turned toward Damian. He was staring at her. Not with suspicion anymore. With fear. And on the table between them, the marriage contract had opened by itself. The seventh clause was no longer written in black ink. It was written in red. CLAUSE 7: THE WIFE MUST DIE BEFORE THE HUSBAND.

Mae stared at the red words. CLAUSE 7: THE WIFE MUST DIE BEFORE THE HUSBAND. For several seconds, nobody moved. Then Victor Hale reached for the contract. "Don't touch it." Mae pulled it away. Victor froze. Damian's eyes remained fixed on the page. "Where did that come from?" Mae whispered. "I don't know." "You expect me to believe that?" "No." "Good." Mae slammed the contract shut. The moment the cover closed, the red words disappeared. She opened it again. Black ink. Normal clause. Mae's breathing became uneven. "No." She flipped through every page. Nothing. No red ink. No strange message. No explanation. "You're seeing this too, right?" Victor looked at Damian. Damian nodded. "Yes." Mae laughed nervously. "Fantastic." She dropped the contract onto the table. "I've officially lost my mind." "You haven't." "Your dead wives, your cursed date, my watch, a talking radio and a disappearing contract say otherwise." Damian stepped toward her. "Mae." She immediately raised a hand. "Don't." He stopped. She looked at him. "I don't know you." "I know." "You walked into my apartment this morning and offered me ten million dollars to marry you." "Yes." "Then you told me you're going to die." "Yes." "Then your contract told me I'm going to die first." Damian said nothing. Mae shook her head. "This is insane." She picked up her phone. "I'm calling the police." Victor's expression changed. "Miss Velora-" "I'm serious." She unlocked her phone. Before she could dial, every phone in the room rang at once. Mae's phone. Damian's. Victor's. All three. They stared at one another. Damian slowly answered his. "Hello?" Static. Then a voice. "October seventh." Damian's face hardened. The call ended. Mae's phone stopped ringing. Victor's stopped too. Nobody spoke. Mae looked at Damian. "What did it say?" His jaw tightened. "Nothing." "You're lying." "I said nothing." "Then why do you look like that?" Damian didn't answer. Mae grabbed her bag. "I'm leaving." Damian stepped in front of the door. She stopped. "Move." "No." "Damian." "You can't leave." She stared at him. "Are you threatening me?" "No." "Then move." "I need you to understand something." "I understand enough." "You don't." His voice was unusually serious. "The women who married me didn't know what they were walking into." Mae looked at him. "They died." "Yes." "And you think I'm next." "I think you're in danger." "Because I saved you?" "Because you saved me." Mae frowned. "That doesn't make sense." "It doesn't have to." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He opened a photograph. Six women. Different faces. Different ages. Different lives. But all standing beside the same man. Damian. Mae stared at the picture. "Your wives?" "Yes." She looked at their faces. One was blonde. Another had long black hair. Another was smiling brightly. The last woman stood closest to Damian. She looked terrified. Mae zoomed in. There was something around the woman's wrist. A watch. Mae's breath caught. "What's that?" Damian looked at the picture. "I don't know." "She has the same watch." He took the phone from her. His expression changed. "You're right." Mae looked at him. "How did you not notice that?" "Because the watch wasn't there in the original photograph." "What?" Damian stared at the screen. "It appeared after she died." Mae felt a chill. "You're joking." "I don't joke about this." She stepped closer. "Show me." Damian handed her the phone. The watch was small and old-fashioned. Just like hers. Mae looked at her own wrist. Then back at the picture. "No." She suddenly remembered something. Her mother. The watch. A photograph. A woman she'd never met. Mae's stomach tightened. "Where did you get my name?" Damian frowned. "Your name?" "You said you investigated me." "Yes." "Who gave you my information?" "My security team." "Who hired them?" "Orion." Mae looked up. "Who?" "My uncle." Something about the way Damian said the name made her uneasy. "Why would your uncle investigate me?" "He didn't." "Then why did you say his name?" "Because he handles my private security." Mae narrowed her eyes. "Does he know about me?" Damian hesitated. "Yes." Her heart sank. "How?" "I told him about you." "When?" "Yesterday." "After the accident?" "Yes." Mae slowly nodded. "Then he knows I'm marrying you?" "If you sign." "I haven't signed." "I know." She walked toward the door again. This time Damian didn't stop her. Mae opened it. "You're going to sign." She looked back. "Excuse me?" Damian's voice was calm. "You'll sign the contract." "You sound very confident." "Because tomorrow, you'll change your mind." Mae laughed. "Why?" "Because you'll see what happens when you say no." She stared at him. "What does that mean?" Damian didn't answer. Instead, he walked toward the elevator. Victor followed him. Mae watched them leave. Just before the elevator doors closed, Damian looked back. "Don't go anywhere alone tonight." The doors shut. Mae stood in her doorway. "What a psychopath." She closed the door. Locked it. Then checked it again. She walked back into the apartment. The contract was still on the table. She stared at it. She should burn it. That was the sensible thing to do. Mae picked it up. Then her phone buzzed. A message. UNKNOWN: You have until midnight. Her blood ran cold. Another message appeared. UNKNOWN: Refuse Damian, and your sister dies. Mae froze. She didn't have a sister. At least, not anymore. Her younger sister had died when Mae was sixteen. A car accident. Ten years ago. Mae's hands started shaking. Another message appeared. This time, there was a photograph. Mae opened it. Her breath caught. It was a picture of her sister. But the photograph wasn't ten years old. Her sister looked exactly as Mae remembered her. Sixteen. Standing outside their childhood home. And behind her was a black car. Mae zoomed in. There was someone sitting inside. A man. She couldn't see his face. But she recognized the watch on his wrist. The same watch. Her mother's watch. Mae dropped the phone. "No." Her heart hammered against her ribs. She backed away from the table. The apartment suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. Then someone knocked on the door. Three slow knocks. Mae didn't move. Another three knocks. She looked at the clock. 10:32 PM. "Who is it?" No answer. Mae stepped backward. The knocking stopped. Her phone rang. She nearly screamed. She picked it up with trembling hands. Damian. She answered. "Hello?" "Mae, where are you?" "Home." "Lock the door." "It is." "Don't open it for anyone." Her eyes moved toward the door. "Why?" "Because my uncle just called me." "Orion?" "Yes." "What did he say?" Damian was silent. Then he said, "He asked whether you've signed the contract." Mae's stomach dropped. "What did you tell him?" "That you haven't." There was another pause. Then Damian's voice became colder. "Mae, listen carefully." "I'm listening." "If anyone comes to your door tonight, don't let them in." "Why?" "I just received a report." "What report?" "The woman who was watching your apartment was found dead." Mae's face went pale. "What woman?" "My security guard." "What?" "She was outside your building." Mae walked toward the window. She carefully moved the curtain. There was a woman lying on the pavement below. A crowd was gathering around her. Mae's hand flew to her mouth. "Damian..." "Did you see her?" "Yes." "Stay away from the window." Mae immediately stepped back. Then she noticed something. The woman on the ground was wearing a watch. Mae couldn't breathe. It was identical to hers. "Damian." "What?" "There's something you need to know." "What?" Mae stared at the watch around her wrist. "My mother had this watch." Damian said nothing. "My sister had one too." "Mae-" "And the woman outside has one." A long silence followed. Then Damian spoke. "Get out of the apartment." Mae frowned. "What?" "Right now." "Why?" "Because the watch isn't supposed to start ticking until-" A loud crash came from the kitchen.