The early morning sunlight filtered gently through the curtains of Emily's bedroom, casting a soft glow on Isabella's anxious face. She sat on the edge of the bed, still in her pajamas, legs curled up to her chest, and her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. Emily stirred beside her, blinking against the morning light as she sat up, rubbing her eyes groggily.
Isabella didn't wait. Her voice was quiet but strained.
"They offered me a contract," she said, staring blankly at the floor.
Emily blinked again, her sleep quickly chased away by the weight of those words. "Contract?" she asked, leaning closer. "What kind of contract?"
Isabella finally turned to look at her, her eyes filled with confusion, nerves, and something else—something like disbelief. "A marriage contract," she whispered. "They said it'll only last a few months. And… the money is a lot. Like… life-changing."
Emily was silent for a moment. Then she scoffed. "Marriage? As in, the 'I do' kind of marriage?"
Isabella nodded.
Emily's mouth fell open slightly, and then she shook her head like she was trying to wake herself up. "And you're considering it?"
"I don't know," Isabella said honestly. "It sounds insane. But Emily… the money… it's way more than what I earn at the hospital. Way more."
Emily's brows pulled together. "What kind of person needs a marriage that badly and fast?"
Isabella opened her mouth, then closed it again. "I don't really know the full story. But… they said it's important. Urgent, even. And they're willing to pay me well."
Emily leaned back on the bed and looked at the ceiling, her expression unreadable for a long moment. Then she exhaled heavily. "I just wonder if he'll touch you," she said, her voice flat.
Isabella blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"I mean it," Emily turned to face her, eyes sharp now. "If he lays even one finger on you, I'm going to bury him alive."
Isabella couldn't help it—she smiled. The kind of smile that barely held back the tears. She didn't know what she would've done without Emily.
Two days passed in a haze. Isabella kept checking her phone every few minutes, waiting for a call. Her stomach was constantly in knots, and she barely slept.
And then, it came.
Xaren's voice was serious over the phone. "Things are getting out of hand, Isabella. The marriage needs to happen. As soon as possible."
She was silent for a moment, her thoughts immediately flashing to her job, to the patients she cared for, to her uniform hanging still in the corner of Emily's room.
"I'm in," she said finally, even though her voice trembled. "But… I don't know how I'm going to explain it to the hospital."
"You won't have to. This is temporary. And you know what's at stake."
She did. As much as she hated the thought of walking away from her work, she couldn't compare her modest salary with the amount of money she'd be getting. If this went through, she'd never have to worry about bills, rent, or saving every penny again.
The next morning, the doorbell rang.
Emily was brushing her hair in front of the mirror when the chime echoed through the apartment. She glanced at Isabella, who was still curled up on the couch with her phone.
"I'll get it," Emily said, tossing the brush aside.
When she opened the door, her breath hitched slightly. Standing there was a tall man in a sleek black suit, posture poised, presence commanding. Xaren. His face was emotionless, as always, but his features were sharply handsome—enough to make Emily's heart stutter for a split second before she reminded herself to act normal.
He bowed his head slightly. "Good morning."
Emily stepped aside, a little flustered. "Come in."
Xaren stepped into the apartment like he was entering a business office—back straight, expression unreadable. Isabella stood up slowly, her heart pounding when she saw him. Her palms were already sweating.
"You ready?" he asked.
She nodded. "Just let me grab my bag."
When she returned, Xaren took the bag from her hand like a chauffeur and opened the car door for her.
She froze.
Azrael was already inside. Reclined against the leather seat with his head tilted slightly, one arm draped casually across the edge of the seat. His shirt was half-unbuttoned again, revealing smooth skin and the faint outline of muscles beneath. His face was as blank and unreadable as always, but his presence swallowed the air. He looked like a god—cold, untouchable, unbothered.
Isabella exhaled shakily and slid into the car, her body tense. Xaren closed the door behind her and walked around to take the driver's seat.
No one said a word.
The silence was thick—so thick it clung to the walls of the car, coating everything. Even the hum of the engine sounded distant under the weight of it. Isabella's gaze stayed fixed on her hands, her thumbs nervously fidgeting.
"Will I still live with my friend after the marriage is done?" she asked quietly, breaking the silence.
"No," Azrael replied without looking at her, his voice like ice.
Xaren's eyes darted to the rearview mirror, glancing at Azrael's face briefly. There was tension in the air now.
"I'm doing you a favour, Azrael," Isabella said, her voice suddenly sharp. "If you know you're going to be cold and stubborn with me, just know it's never too late for me to step down from this car and go home."
Azrael's brow lifted ever so slightly, his brown eyes now meeting hers. He didn't speak. He didn't smirk. He didn't frown. He just… stared.
But inside, something stirred. He hadn't expected her to snap back. All his life, Azrael had been brutally honest, never caring whether his words hurt or healed. But now, for the first time, he chose silence. Not to manipulate her—but because he didn't want to hurt her. Not yet. Not now.
They reached the hall quickly.
It wasn't what Isabella had expected. No guests. No flowers. No vows spoken in warmth. Just a quiet room with a table, two chairs, a few legal documents, and rings that were too plain for something as big as a marriage.
She signed. He signed.
They exchanged rings, their fingers brushing briefly.
It was done.
No congratulations. No kiss. No celebration.
Xaren collected the documents into a file. "Please, give me the marriage contract you signed earlier."
Isabella nodded quickly and pulled out the neatly filed documents from her bag. She handed it to him, her fingers slightly trembling.
"That didn't feel like marriage at all," Xaren muttered as he led them back to the car.
Back at Emily's apartment, they didn't step out immediately.
Isabella sat stiffly beside Azrael and finally turned to him.
"Now what?"
He didn't hesitate. "Get your stuff ready. You'll be coming to my house tomorrow."
The words felt like a slap. Her eyes stung.
She nodded slowly, swallowing hard.
"You don't have to think much about it," Azrael said, his tone still cold, but not cruel. "Just don't catch feelings. Do as I tell you. And everything will be fine."
The door opened, and Isabella stepped out of the car. Emily was already outside, standing by the steps, waving excitedly. She had no idea what had just happened.
Isabella ran to her and wrapped her in a hug, burying her face in her best friend's shoulder.
"What happened? What did I miss?" Emily asked, guiding her inside.
Once they were in the safety of the apartment, Isabella dropped her bag and sat on the couch like someone who had just survived a storm.
She told her everything.
How silent Azrael was. How the hall was empty. How she signed the papers, wore the ring, and left feeling like nothing had changed—and yet, everything had.
Emily listened quietly, her face unreadable.
When Isabella finally finished, Emily sighed and pulled her into another hug. "You're brave," she said. "And I'm still watching. If he hurts you, I don't care how rich or powerful he is—I'll bury him myself."
Isabella laughed. It was the first real laugh she'd had in days.