dnight and got a recording. She called a lawyer friend of a friend and got voicemail. She ran the numbers four different ways, and four different ways they ended in the same place.By dawn sh

who needs nothing but a miracle. My nephew needs a wife on paper, Miss Monroe. You need a way out. It's a simple equation."No one. It lodged in her chest like a splinter. For six years she had been the person holding up an entire family. Her parents' name was on the sign. Her brother's whole life rested on her shoulders. And this stranger in a charcoal suit had looked at all of it and seen an empty space.She wanted to throw him out. She wanted to take the rolling pin off the shelf and make a fool of herself. But through the window behind him, she could see the apartment stairs, and the light in Eli's room, and the acceptance letter pinned to his corkboard that said Welcome to the class of 2031."I want it in writing," she heard herself say.Marcus's smile widened, just slightly. "Of course.""Every word. Reviewed by my own lawyer. The debt erased, Eli's tuition guaranteed, and a clause that says I can walk away if anyone touches my family.""You're a shrewd woman.""I'm a baker," Zara said. "I know what happens when you leave out the salt."He laughed, softly, like a man pleased by a toy that worked better than he expected. "Tomorrow, then. Two o'clock. I'll send a car." He stood, buttoned his jacket, and paused at the door. "Oh, and Miss Monroe? Wear something nice. First impressions matter."The bell chimed behind him. Zara stood motionless in the flour-scented quiet, her heart hammering, and wondered what exactly she had just agreed to.* * *The car was black, long, and silent. It carried her up into a part of the city she had only seen from a distance, where the buildings were made of mirrors and the sidewalks looked polished.She had borrowed her friend Tasha's navy dress, which fit almost perfectly, and pinned her braids in a low twist. In the elevator's mirrored wall, she looked like a woman headed to a job interview, or a funeral. She wasn't sure which.Thirty-six floors up, the doors opened onto a glass-walled office with a view of the whole city. A lawyer with kind eyes and a nervous manner introduced himself and handed her a stack of paper. Zara read every page, line by line, while the lawyer coughed and Marcus checked his watch. She crossed out two clauses and added one. Nobody argued.She had just reached the last page when she became aware of him.He was standing at the window with his back to her, one hand in his pocket, the other