Rain slashed against the sidewalk as I stepped out of the town car, my Italian loafers sinking into a puddle. That’s when I saw her—curled under the awning of a shuttered bookstore, hands wrapped around her swollen belly. "You’ll catch pneumonia," I said, holding out my umbrella. She looked up, eyes fierce despite the exhaustion. "I’ve got nowhere else to go."\n\nI didn’t think. I handed her my coat and told the driver to take us to my apartment. By the time we reached the penthouse, she was shivering. "This is insane," she muttered, staring at the skyline. "You don’t owe me anything."\n\n"Maybe not," I said, pouring tea. "But my father keeps saying I’ve never done anything meaningful. Maybe this is my chance."\n\nShe narrowed her eyes. "So I’m your charity project?"\n\n"No. You’re my fiancée." The words came out before I could stop them. Her breath hitched. "You’re serious?"\n\nMy phone buzzed—Dad’s assistant: Mr. Voss expects you at dinner tomorrow. Bring her.\n\nNow I had to make it real. And she had to decide: trust me, or walk back into the storm.