Marrying My Childhood Crush for His Green Card

Grace's POV

I'm staring at the investor's back as he walks away, and suddenly the presentation folder in my hands feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

"Ms. Miller, your sustainable fashion concept is admirable, but the market data isn't convincing enough." That's what the guy in the Tom Ford suit said before leaving, his tone polite but his eyes cold. "Maybe come back when you have actual sales."

This is the seventh rejection this month.

Seven.

I step out of that gleaming financial building into the San Francisco sunlight that's so bright it makes me want to cry. Three years of my life, dozens of versions of business plans, countless late nights revising numbers, and all I get is the same answer: not good enough, not stable enough, not worth the investment.

My sustainable fashion startup, EcoThread, has exactly two months of operating funds left. After that, I'll have to shut down, let go of the three people who believed in me, and then what? Go back to working for someone else?

No. I can't accept that.

But what choice do I have?

I drift into the coffee shop on the corner and order the cheapest americano they have. Can't even afford a latte anymore. I grab a window seat and toss the sweat-stained folder onto the table.

Outside, Union Square is packed with people rushing past, everyone with somewhere to be. And me? I'm stuck in a dead end.

"Grace Miller?"

The voice has a British accent.

I look up and see a perfectly tailored charcoal suit first, then the face. Sharp features, eyes that are this warm light brown color, and something about him feels familiar in a way I can't quite place.

"It's me, Jasper Hayes." He's smiling. "We used to be neighbors."

My brain stutters for a second.

Jasper... Hayes...

Then it hits me all at once: the British kid who always followed me around begging me to teach him how to ride a bike, the shy boy who used to share his lunch with me, the one who moved back to England on my tenth birthday and made me cry for a whole week.

"Oh my god, Jasper?" I'm practically jumping out of my seat. "When did you get back?"

"Three months ago." He sits down across from me, moving with this effortless grace that seems impossible. "I heard you're doing a startup. Sustainable fashion?"

I want to hide how much of a mess I am right now, but the rejected folder is sitting right there on the table. There's no point in pretending.

"Yeah, but looks like it's going under." I laugh, but it comes out bitter. "What about you? Back for business?"

"Tech company." His expression shifts, becomes complicated. "But I'm having some visa issues."

"What kind of issues?"

"H1B expired. Company sponsorship fell through." He pauses, those light brown eyes looking straight at me. "Grace, I need your help with something."

My stomach drops. Please don't ask to borrow money. I'm about to go bankrupt myself.

"I need to get married," he says.

I almost spit out my coffee.

"What?"

"Green card marriage." Jasper doesn't beat around the bush. "I need an American citizen spouse to fix my visa situation, and you..." He glances at my folder. "You need investment."

I'm opening and closing my mouth like a fish.

"It's mutual benefit." He keeps going, voice steady like he's pitching a business deal. "I invest in your company, give you enough runway to make it to profitability. In exchange, you marry me on paper and help me get my green card. The whole process takes one to two years. We'll need to maintain the appearance of a real marriage for immigration checks, but essentially, it's just a business contract."

"You're serious?"

"Completely." He pulls out a document from his briefcase. "This is the preliminary agreement. I'm prepared to invest five hundred thousand dollars in EcoThread for a 25% stake. In return, you agree to legally marry me and cooperate with the immigration process."

Five hundred thousand.

Five hundred thousand dollars.

That's more than all the investors I've pitched in the last three months combined.

My rational mind is screaming that this is insane, but my hands are already reaching for the document.

I skim through it. The terms are surprisingly reasonable: investment amount, equity split, marriage duration, rights and obligations for both parties. There's even a clause that says: Both parties agree this is purely a business arrangement with no expectation of a genuine romantic relationship.

"Why me?" I look up. "You must know plenty of Americans."

Jasper goes quiet for a few seconds, his gaze drifting.

"Because I trust you." He finally says. "We haven't seen each other in years, but I remember you're someone who keeps her word. And honestly, doing this with a stranger would be way riskier."

It makes sense.

Too much sense.

But I'm not in a position to question it.

"I need time to think," I say.

"Of course." Jasper stands up and pulls out a business card. "That's my contact info. Grace, I know this sounds crazy, but sometimes crazy ideas are the most practical solutions."

He turns to leave, then stops.

"Oh, and if you agree, we need to move fast. My visa expires next month."

Three days later, I'm standing outside San Francisco City Hall.

I said yes.

Not because I'm not scared. I'm terrified. But I'm more terrified of losing EcoThread. This project is everything I've poured myself into, my dream. If a fake marriage can save it, then... then I'll do it.

It's just a contract anyway.

Just business.

Jasper's already inside waiting, still in that charcoal suit, holding two simple bouquets of white tulips.

"For you." He hands me one. "I remember you liked tulips when we were kids."

I freeze.

He remembers.

Something from twenty years ago, and he still remembers.

"Thanks." I take the flowers, and suddenly my throat feels tight.

The registration process is simpler than I expected. Forms, IDs, vows, signatures. The clerk is this older woman who smiles at us so warmly.

"You two make such a lovely couple," she says. "Best wishes for your happiness."

I smile awkwardly, not sure what to say.

As we walk out of City Hall, Jasper suddenly takes my hand.

I start to pull away, but he says quietly, "Someone might be watching. We need to make it look real."

Right. Acting.

This is just acting.

But his hand is warm, his palm completely covering mine, and the touch feels both strange and oddly familiar at the same time.

"Grace." He stops walking and turns to face me, something unreadable in his eyes. "Thank you for doing this."

"You invested half a million. I should be thanking you." I try to joke, to cut through this weird tension building between us.

Jasper smiles, and it softens his entire face.

"Just like when we were kids." He gently swings our joined hands. "You were always there when I needed you."

My heart skips a beat.

This isn't right.

This is just business.

My heart shouldn't be racing.

But why is it that every time I look into his eyes, I can't help it?