Marry Me, Mr Ashford

Chapter One: The Last Board meeting

Whitmore Biotech had twenty-seven days left to survive.

No one in the boardroom dared to speak.

Twelve directors sat around the polished oak table, there were untouched cups of coffee already growing cold beside stacks of financial reports. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the street of New York bustled as if nothing had changed.

Inside, everything had.

A financial statement glowed on the projection screen — every line was red, operating losses, debt obligations, withdrawn investments, cancelled contracts, and one disastrous figure after another.

A company that had stood for more than seventy years was running out of time.

A quiet click broke the silence, and the report disappeared.

Aurelia Whitmore lowered the remote onto the conference table and looked around the room. "Let's stop pretending this is temporary..."

No one argued, no one could.

At twenty-six, Aurelia was the youngest executive in the room, but she had spent years earning her place. She had salvaged failing projects, negotiated impossible contracts, and refused to leave the office before the work was done.

Today, none of those victories mattered.

Director Hamilton adjusted his glasses. "The banks rejected our restructuring proposal this morning." He said amidst the pressing silence.

Another director opened a folder, and uttered. "Sterling Group acquired another twelve percent of our remaining suppliers." He hesitated before adding. "Every supplier we lose ends up in Victor Sterling's hands."

The name settled over the room like a storm cloud.

Director Lewis cleared his throat. "Three institutional investors withdrew before the market opened." He sighed.

The silence that followed was heavier than before, every update made the future look shorter.

Aurelia folded her hands together. "How much cash do we have?" She asked, already aware of what was left.

The Chief Financial Officer didn't look up from his papers. "At our current operating expenses..." He inhaled slowly. "— twenty-seven days."

No one questioned the number.

At the head of the table sat Richard Whitmore, the founder and Chief Executive Officer. For decades, competitors had called him the man who could turn empty lots into skylines — today, he looked exhausted.

His suit was immaculate, his posture remained straight, but the confidence that had built an empire was beginning to crack.

When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "We are out of time..." The words landed harder than anyone expected.

Aurelia leaned forward immediately. "If we liquidate the non-performing subsidiaries, we can free enough capital to—"

"Too late…" Director Hamilton interrupted.

"What about selling the overseas assets?" She added.

"No buyer will offer fair value now." He countered.

"Private equity?"

"They've all refused."

"Then we'll find another investor."

But what replied her was silence, not a single person answered. Aurelia searched every face around the table, no one met her eyes.

For the first time since the meeting began, she understood — there wasn't another investor, there wasn't another bank, there wasn't another miracle waiting around the corner.

"The meeting is adjourned." Richard Whitmore said and quietly closed his folder.

One by one, the directors stood. Chairs scraped against the floor, folders disappeared into briefcases, no one stayed a second longer. Within minutes, the enormous boardroom was empty.

Aurelia remained seated, the blank projection screen reflected her own silhouette. An empire could disappear because enough people stopped believing it would survive.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Miss Whitmore?" Emma, the executive receptionist, stood in the doorway. "They're waiting for you downstairs."

Aurelia nodded. "I'll be right there."

She stepped into the hallway. The executive floor looked exactly as it always had — phones rang, printers hummed, employees hurried between offices carrying laptops and folders.

Well, life continued as though nothing had changed.

Claire, the receptionist, smiled the moment she saw her. "Good morning, Miss Whitmore."

"Morning, Claire..." Aurelia returned the smile. She noticed colorful balloons tied near the employee lounge. "Did Miguel finally decide on chocolate or vanilla?"

"Chocolate won." Claire laughed.

"I knew it would."

"You're still coming for cake later, right?"

Aurelia's smile lingered for only a second. "I'll try."

Further down the hall, an accountant waved while balancing a stack of invoices. Someone argued over whether the birthday banner was hanging crooked. Another employee struggled to keep balloons from floating into the ceiling lights.

The break room door stood open, a banner stretched across the wall: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIGUEL!

Someone had already placed paper plates beside a beautifully wrapped cake box.

None of them knew that in less than a month, many of those desks could be empty — Claire, Miguel, the intern who always stayed late, the maintenance worker who greeted everyone by name, people who trusted Whitmore Holdings to still be standing tomorrow.

The thought made Aurelia's chest tighten.

As she reached the lobby, her eyes drifted toward the centerpiece fountain. It had once been the pride of the building with crystal-clear water flowing over polished black stone day and night.

Now it stood silent.

The pumps had been switched off weeks ago after the maintenance budget was frozen.

Someone had placed fresh flowers beside it anyway as if pretending nothing had changed.

Aurelia pushed through the revolving doors onto Fifth Avenue. The afternoon air was warm, traffic surged past, pedestrians hurried by without sparing the Whitmore Building a second glance.

Across the street, a massive digital billboard flickered before changing advertisements.

A familiar logo filled the screen:

ASHFORD HOLDINGS

RECORD PROFITS FOR THE SIXTH CONSECUTIVE YEAR

A photograph appeared beneath the headline. Damian Ashford; he young, confident, untouchable, everything about him radiated effortless success.

Another line appeared beneath his portrait: NEW YORK'S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR

Aurelia stared at the billboard. Whitmore Biotech was counting the days until bankruptcy, Ashford Holdings was celebrating another record year.

The contrast made her stomach twist.

She should have looked away, instead, a reckless thought surfaced before she could stop it. What if I asked him to marry me?​

That's ridiculous. Damian Ashford probably didn't even know she existed.

She took two steps toward the waiting company car, then stopped. Almost against her own will, she turned back toward the billboard, her gaze lingered on his face.

...Then why can't I stop thinking about asking him to marry me?

# Chapter Two: You're Crazy​

The billboard changed.

A luxury watch replaced Damian Ashford's face, then a perfume advertisement, then another corporate campaign, but Aurelia didn't notice.

She stood on the sidewalk outside Whitmore Holdings, staring at the empty screen as if his photograph were still there.

The city's noise rushed around her — car horns, footsteps, distant sirens — but none of it reached her. The thought had lodged itself so deeply in her mind that she couldn't force it out.

She heard herself whisper. "— what if I asked him to marry me?" The words hung in the air.

For a moment, she simply blinked. Then she let out a quiet laugh. "You're losing it, Aurelia..."

It was absurd.

Damian Ashford — the billionaire every magazine wanted on its cover, the man every business school studied, the country's most eligible bachelor.

She had never met