Chapter 2: The Marriage Contract
Lena stared at her reflection in the glossy surface of the long, mahogany table. Just yesterday, she was counting coins to pay for her mother's medicine. Now, she sat across from the most powerful man she'd ever met, about to sign a marriage contract.
A marriage.
With a stranger.
Well, not entirely a stranger. Ethan Blackwood was practically a household name—CEO of Blackwood Enterprises, one of the most ruthless business minds in the country. And now… her soon-to-be husband.
He handed her a sleek black pen. "You should read it thoroughly. I won't tolerate claims of confusion later."
She took a deep breath and flipped open the contract. The words blurred slightly at the edges, either from nerves or lack of sleep—or both.
> Clause 1: This marriage shall remain legal and binding for a period of twelve (12) months from the date of signature.
Clause 2: The parties shall reside together at the address specified (see Appendix A) and present themselves publicly as husband and wife.
Clause 3: No physical or emotional relationship is expected or required.
Clause 4: A payment of one million dollars will be transferred to Miss White upon signing.
Clause 5: In the event of a breach of confidentiality, legal consequences will apply.
She skimmed further.
> Clause 9: Either party may not terminate the agreement before the 12-month mark unless under extraordinary circumstances approved in writing by Mr. Ethan Blackwood.
Clause 12: Any form of romantic involvement with third parties during the duration of the marriage is strictly forbidden.
Lena blinked. "You thought of everything."
"I have lawyers paid to think of everything," he replied without a hint of humor. "Now, do you agree?"
She paused. "One thing. I want a copy of this contract, signed."
He tilted his head. "Suspicious?"
"Careful," she corrected softly.
For the first time, a flicker of something—respect? amusement?—touched his face.
"Fine."
She signed her name slowly, her hand trembling slightly as she completed the last stroke.
Ethan signed next, his movements crisp and mechanical.
It was done.
"You'll move into my penthouse tomorrow," he said as he closed the folder. "I'll have my assistant send a driver to your apartment in the morning. Pack only essentials."
Lena frowned. "I can't just disappear overnight. I still have my job—"
"You don't anymore."
"What?" She sat forward. "You can't just—"
"I paid off your debts. Your landlord will return your deposit. And your job at the diner was replaced by a call this morning from my HR team." He stood. "Consider it handled."
She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. What was she expecting? A man like Ethan didn't ask—he ordered.
He walked over to the bar in the corner and poured himself a glass of water. "Don't worry. You'll still have your freedom—within limits."
"What kind of limits?"
"No scandals. No interviews. No random men visiting. And absolutely no speaking to the press."
"I'm not a child."
"Good. Then act like an adult," he said coolly, placing the glass down.
Her jaw clenched. "Why are you really doing this? There must be other women—more beautiful, more... suitable."
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable.
"This isn't about beauty. It's about control."
Her breath caught in her throat.
"You were a calculated choice, Miss White. You're invisible to the media, have no family to interfere, and you need me just enough to stay quiet."
Lena stood. "You make it sound like I'm some… asset you acquired."
His gaze locked onto hers. "Aren't you?"
A long silence followed.
Finally, he walked to the door and opened it for her. "Your car is waiting. Be ready by eight tomorrow."
She walked past him, her head held high, though her insides were shaking.
Just before stepping out, she turned to him. "You may have bought twelve months of my life, Mr. Blackwood. But you'll never own me."
He didn't flinch. "We'll see."
---
The black car drove her through the city lights, but Lena hardly noticed them. Her hands trembled in her lap, clutching the signed contract like it might bite.
A million dollars. Her mother would be safe. Her debts would vanish.
But at what cost?
She looked out the window, watching raindrops chase each other across the glass.
Twelve months.
She could survive that… right?