Chapter 3: The contract
Sarah's POV
My hands shake as I jam the key into the lock.
The night had been too much. Seeing him. Knowing he'd orchestrated my devastation. Kept me captive. Owned me.
But this?
This is worse.
As soon as the door creaks open, my stomach plummets.
My apartment is ruined.
The couch is ripped, stuffing spilling out like open wounds. The coffee table is overturned, and the glass on the floor glitters like shattered promises. Papers are strewn everywhere around me, my entire life exposed—
And then I see him.
My dad.
On the ground.
Blood on his lip. Bruises on his cheek.
A strangulated sound is raw in my throat as I crawl to him. "Dad—Dad, oh my God—"
I drop to my knees, hands shaking over him. Scared to touch him. Scared that if I do—if I put my body on him—he'll just… break.
"Help me up," he grits out. A lie. A goddamned lie. "Just. Help me, sweetheart."
Fine? Fine?
I put my arms around him, struggling to hoist him up onto the couch. He wincingly allows it. His breathing was erratic, his entire body trembling against me.
"What did they do?" My voice slices. Too sharp. "Who did this to you?"
Shame contorts his face.
"They… came for the debt."
I stiffen.
No.
Not again.
Not this damn debt again.
I ball my fists, nails piercing my palms. "Who?" I whisper. "Who did this?"
Dad doesn't answer. Only looks away. And then—
He scoops something off the ground.
A folder.
My heart throbs.
"Dad…"
He hesitates. Then, with a shattered breath, gives it to me.
My fingers tremble as I open it—
And my world fucking shatters.
A contract.
Marriage.
My name.
A cold, sinking horror gathers in my gut. "What… the fuck is this?"
My father's voice is a broken whisper.
"They gave me a choice, Sarah." His voice cracks. "Pay the debt or… or give them you."
My lungs collapse.
No.
No, this is not real.
I force myself to read the words again. My eyes well with rage, with shock.
But it is real.
So fucking real.
And the name on the other line?
Lucian Dante.
A choked gasp leaves my lips.
Lucian.
It was him.
It was always fucking him.
The bastard hadn't just blacklisted me. Hadn't just forced me into his office.
No.
He had planned this.
From the very fucking start.
My entire body shakes with rage.
Fine.
If he wants to play this game?
Then I'll play it right the fuck back.
I storm into Dante Corporation the next morning, every step fueled by raw fury.
The receptionist doesn't even get a chance to open her mouth before I push her aside, straight for the elevator.
Gawk. Whisper.
I don't care.
As soon as the elevator opens onto the top floor, I step out and fling open Lucian's office doors.
The bastard is reclined behind his desk, elbows on the blotter, expensive watch flashing in the tan light. He looks utterly comfortable.
That arrogant, condescending, coldly logical son of a bitch.
His icy blue eyes flash up—
And the moment they rest on me?
His mouth curls.
"Angel."
I slap the folder on his desk.
His smile never falters. But his eyes? They darken.
"Is this?" His voice is all lazy sarcasm as if I hadn't just slapped a fucking marriage contract in his face.
I shudder with fury.
"Oh, don't fucking pretend you don't know," I spit out.
Lucian's eyebrow crease rises slowly. Like a predator. Like he's already a victor.
His silence is more scorching than his words ever have the potential to be.
I grind my teeth. "You did this."
I smile sweetly. "You sound angry."
I snap.
"Angry? Oh, I don't know, Lucian." I bang my fists against his desk, inches from his face. "Would you be angry if some crazy control freak blacklisted you from every job in the country and then slammed a contract under your nose that you have to fucking marry them?"
Lucian looks at me. Too calm. Too still.
Then—
He moves.
Quickly.
One moment, I stand.
The next—
I'm trapped.
Imprisoned between his desk and his frame.
I draw in a quick breath.
His fingers dig into the desk beside me, pinning me in place. His scent—whiskey, dark spice, sin—surrounds me, and fuck, fuck, fuck—
This close, I can feel the warmth radiating from him.
I press my hands against his chest, trying to shove him back. "Move."
He doesn't budge.
"Move, Lucian."
His smirk is lethal. "No."
My heart is racing. "You—"
"You're mine, Angel." His voice is low. Dark. Absolute. "I have to say, u didn't know he was your father, but now that I do you will sign it."
Heat. White-hot. Unforgiving.
I shake my head, making my body not betray me. "Fuck you."
Lucian laughs. "You already did."
My breath catches.
His eyes burn. "And now?" He steps closer. "Now, you're never walking away."
Oh, my dear, I will.
I lift my chin, voice sharp. "We'll see about that."
Lucian's smirk grows. Slow. Amused. Possessive as fuck.
"Oh, Angel." His fingers graze my wrist. Barely there. Just enough to make my pulse fucking spike.
Then—
He whispers the words that seal my fate.
"Try and run. See what happens."
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I don't breathe.
I can't.
Lucian's words wrap around my throat, squeezing tighter than his grip ever could.
Try and run. See what happens.
The challenge in his voice burns. The certainty.
As if he already knows the answer.
As if I'm nothing but a pawn on his board.
As if he owns me.
My nails press deep into my palms.
He doesn't.
I jerk my wrist free, shoving him away with all my strength.
Lucian lets me. Barely.
His smirk never falters. His stance never wavering.
As if my rebellion is a joke to him.
As if I am a joke to him.
I grit my voice hard. "This contract? No way."
His head tilts. Ridicule fills his eyes. "No?"
"No."
His blue eyes glint. "Your father thought otherwise."
My chest tightens.
Anger.
Anger. Anger. Anger.
He feels it. He feeds off it, fucking does.
Lucian steps closer again, pushing me to keep my feet firmly rooted. "The debt wasn't going anywhere, Angel." His voice is deep, unbroken. "This was the only option."
The words sting.
Because a part of me knows he's telling the truth.
But the rest of me?
The rest of me needs to burn it all down.
"You didn't have to do this," I snarl.
Lucian's lips curl. "But I did."
I hate him.
And worse—
He knows it.
Lucian leans in, tracing the edge of my frayed sleeve. Slow. On purpose.
"I own the contract," he says. "I own you."
No.
I shove his hand away. "I am not some property you can claim."
His grin is evil. "Aren't you?"
I fucking lose it.
Before I can think, my hand darts up—
Lucian catches my wrist in mid-air.
Fast. Simple. Like he was anticipating it.
A brow rises. Stubborn.
My heart beats like a drum.
His fingers tighten. Not hurting. Not yet. Merely a caution of how simply he can trap me.
Lucian's voice is a deadly whisper.
"You want to punch me, Angel?" His lips brush too close to my ear. "Do it."
I hate how my body reacts.
How my breath catches.
How my skin burns.
Lucian chuckles—low, knowing. "No? Then let me make this simple."
His grip loosens. Slides down to my fingers.
And then—
He presses a pen into my palm.
I go rigid.
No.
I try to pull back. "I'm not—"
"You will."
His voice cuts through me.
Absolute. Unshakable.
My fingers tighten around the pen against my will.
Lucian leans in, gaze razor-sharp. "Sign the contract, Angel."
I stare at him. Refusing.
His jaw ticks.
And then he says the one thing that makes my entire world come crashing down.
"If you don't…" His voice is even. Unfazed. Terrifying. "Your father won't be breathing tomorrow."
The world stops.
The floor drops out from beneath me.
Lucian just waits.
Patient. Watching. Attentive.
Fuck.
My throat is dry. My hands shake.
But I already know.
I already fucking know.
There is no way out.
I have to sign.
Because if I don't—
I lose everything.