The ride to Adrian Blake's mansion was painfully silent.
Amara sat in the back seat of a sleek black limousine, staring out the tinted windows, watching the city blur past her like a dream she hadn't signed up for. Her father sat beside her, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, guilt radiating off him like a second skin. Across from them sat Adrian, completely calm, unreadable as always.
She didn't dare look at him.
Her heart hadn't stopped racing since he showed up at their door. Every second felt like another thread being ripped from her life.
Soon, the car pulled up in front of a towering mansion. Modern, cold, and surrounded by tall metal gates—it was more fortress than home. The front doors opened before they even reached them, as if the house itself had been waiting.
A sharply dressed man greeted them. "Mr. Blake. Everything is prepared."
Adrian gave a curt nod and walked ahead without a word. Amara and her father followed, stepping into the vast, marble-floored foyer. The air inside was colder than outside—clinical, expensive, and emotionless. Just like him.
They were led into a private study. At the center of the room was a large desk, and on it, a folder with a thick contract.
Amara's stomach twisted.
Adrian took his seat at the head of the desk, looking every bit the billionaire devil she had heard about. He nodded at the man beside him—his lawyer, probably.
"This," the lawyer began, opening the folder, "is the marriage contract between Mr. Adrian Blake and Miss Amara De Luca."
She swallowed hard. Even hearing their names together felt surreal.
The lawyer began reading the terms aloud, each word heavier than the last.
> "Clause One: This is a one-year contractual marriage, with the expectation of public appearances together to maintain Mr. Blake's image."
"Clause Two: Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a legitimate relationship but are not required to be physically or romantically involved."
"Clause Three: Neither party may pursue other romantic relationships during the contract period."
"Clause Four: Violation of terms results in a financial penalty or breach fee of one million dollars."
"Clause Five: At the end of the year, both parties are to quietly part ways, with a confidentiality clause preventing either from discussing the contract publicly."
Amara felt like her lungs were being crushed. This wasn't a marriage—it was a prison sentence.
The lawyer slid the document toward her and handed her a pen. "Please sign at the bottom."
Her father gently touched her shoulder. "Amara… please. For us."
Her hand trembled as she reached for the pen. She stared at the blank line with her name typed above it. Amara De Luca-Blake.
She didn't want to do it. Every part of her screamed don't.
But then she saw the tears in her father's eyes. The pain. The shame.
And she remembered the unpaid hospital bills, the threats from creditors, the fear she had seen in his eyes for months.
With a deep breath, she signed.
It felt like she was signing away her soul.
Adrian took the pen next. He didn't even hesitate. In one smooth motion, he signed the contract like it was just another business deal—nothing more.
And maybe for him, it was.
He leaned back in his chair, gazing at her with those cold eyes. "Congratulations, Miss De Luca. Or should I say… Mrs. Blake."
Amara flinched.
"You're dismissed," Adrian said to the lawyer and her father. "I'd like a moment alone with my new fiancée."
Her father stood, clearly unsure, but the lawyer guided him out. The door shut with a heavy click, leaving Amara and Adrian alone.
The silence stretched.
Finally, he spoke.
"You're scared."
She stayed silent.
"You should be."
Her head snapped toward him. "I'm not afraid of you."
He smirked, clearly amused. "You're a terrible liar."
She rose to her feet, her fists clenched. "Why are you doing this? You could've married anyone—why me?"
He stood slowly, walking toward her with quiet intensity.
"Because your father owed me more than money. He owed me loyalty. I wanted something he couldn't buy. And now… I have it."
"You talk about people like they're objects," she said bitterly. "You don't own me."
His expression turned colder. "I do now. At least for the next year."
She turned away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "Fine. But don't expect me to play your doting little wife."
He stepped closer. She could feel his breath against her neck.
"I don't want a wife, Amara. I want obedience. We stay out of each other's way, and this ends peacefully."
"And if I don't obey?"
His lips curved into a wicked smile. "Then you'll learn what happens when people break contracts with me."
Her chest tightened.
Without another word, he walked past her and exited the room, le
aving her alone in a palace she didn't belong to, bound to a man who had just chained her with gold.