Chapter 1
I've been with Nathaniel for five years. We were supposed to announce our wedding date next month.
Then he brought his "fragile" intern Lily to a Halloween escape room. When she drew the punishment straw — ten minutes in a freezing water tank — he swapped it with mine in the dark.
I have claustrophobia. I just had surgery. He knew. He didn't care.
I nearly drowned while he held her and wiped her tears through the glass.
When I woke up in the hospital, Nathaniel was gone. But Alexander Sterling was standing by my bed — the billionaire who'd been anonymously funding my gallery all along.
He offered me a contract marriage. I accepted.
Now Nathaniel's on his knees begging. But I'm already wearing another man's ring.
Eleanor's POV
"Listen up, players."
The NPC wore a ghastly white clown mask, his raspy voice echoing under the dim red lights. "Three sticks in the box. Two white, one red. Whoever draws red—" He jerked his chin toward the glass door on the left. "—gets five minutes in freezing water. Thirty-eight degrees."
October in New York. Above ground, the wind already had teeth. Down here, in this converted asylum beneath Lower Manhattan—Devil's Island, the hottest Halloween experience money could buy this year—we'd reached the final challenge.
Fake blood and rust hung thick in the air. My palms started sweating.
I stood beside Nathaniel, staring at the black cylinder. I had claustrophobia. I'd had surgery last week—the incision still tender. He knew all of this. Before we left, he'd kissed my forehead in our penthouse closet.
"Don't worry, Eleanor. I'm here. I won't let anything happen to you."
On Nathaniel's other side stood Lily—the new intern at his firm, his old professor's daughter. For three months now, wherever we went, Nathaniel found a reason to bring her along.
"Nathaniel." Lily's voice broke, her fingers digging into his suit sleeve. "I—I can't do cold. If I go in that water, I'll die."
Nathaniel frowned and patted her hand. "Hey, it's just a game. You'll be fine."
The gentleness in his voice made my stomach turn.
The NPC held out the cylinder. "Ladies first."
Lily's hand trembled as she reached in.
The moment she pulled it out, I caught the flash of red.
Her face went white. "No... I can't... Nathaniel, please—"
I took a breath and reached into the cylinder.
White.
I relaxed.
"Alright, we have our winner." The NPC moved toward Lily with a cold laugh.
Then the overhead lights flashed. The basement went black.
Three seconds.
In the darkness, a warm hand clamped around my wrist. Nathaniel's hand—I'd know it anywhere. I thought he was steadying me—
Then my fingers went empty.
The white stick was GONE. Something else pressed into my palm, still warm from someone else's grip.
The lights came back.
Nathaniel stood in front of Lily, holding up the white stick. Lily's hand was empty. Every eye in the room landed on me.
I looked down.
Red.
"Eleanor drew red." Nathaniel's voice was calm. "She takes the punishment."
No guilt. Nothing.
"Nathaniel, you—"
"Stop." He cut me off, jaw tight. "Look, Lily can't handle this. You're stronger—you work out. It's five minutes. Just deal with it."
I watched him shield Lily and the whole thing suddenly clicked into place.
I had claustrophobia. I'd JUST had surgery. Had he forgotten? Or maybe next to Lily's tears, I'd never mattered at all.
Last month's gallery opening—one call from Lily and he left me alone with the entire press. Our anniversary dinner—thunderstorm scared Lily, so he never came home. Every time, I told myself he was just being responsible.
But that glass door was sliding open now, and everything became crystal clear.
"Fine."
Nathaniel blinked—he was used to me backing down, probably expected me to argue.
I dropped the red stick and walked into the glass chamber.
The door slammed shut. Ice water poured in from all sides, swallowing my ankles, my knees, my waist.
Thirty-eight degrees.
The cold burrowed into my bones. Panic squeezed my throat. My lungs tightened. The incision screamed.
Through the glass, Nathaniel was wiping Lily's tears, gentle as a stranger. Lily leaned into him, then glanced at me and smirked.
Water reached my chest. Breathing got harder.
Five years ago, Central Park bench, soda can tab proposal. "Eleanor, you'll always come first. I promise."
God, what a joke.
Men's promises weren't worth shit.
Water covered my chin. My vision blurred. I didn't struggle. Didn't pound the glass. Before the darkness swallowed me, I made one decision.
Nathaniel. We're done.
I woke to disinfectant.
The hospital room was quiet except for the heart monitor's beep. I turned my head—no Nathaniel. Just a man in a black suit by the window, speaking low into his phone.
He turned.
Deep blue eyes locked onto mine.
Not Nathaniel.
Alexander Sterling. Wall Street's youngest shark. Proxy for my gallery's biggest anonymous investor.
He ended the call and walked over, staring down at me. "You went into shock in that chamber. Staff had to smash the glass to get you out. Thirty more seconds and you'd be in the morgue."
"Where's Nathaniel?" My voice came out rough.
Something flickered across his face. "Your fiancé? Took the traumatized intern home."
I closed my eyes and breathed.
No tears. No rage. Just calm, like dust settling after an explosion. The past five years felt like someone else's dream.
Now I was awake.
I looked at Alexander. My voice was steady. "Mr. Sterling. That arrangement you mentioned—I'm in. Have your lawyer bring the contract tomorrow."
Alexander's eyebrow went up. He studied me for a moment, then smiled.
"Smart move, Eleanor. Welcome to the shark tank."
