The silence in the penthouse was a living thing, thick and heavy with unspoken threats. Damien Blackwood's shock, a fleeting crack in his marble façade, was already hardening into something far more dangerous: calculation. He studied Evelyn not as his hysterical fiancée, but as an unknown variable that had suddenly appeared on a meticulously planned battlefield. The woman who stood before him, poised and sharp-tongued, bore no resemblance to the tearful shrew from an hour ago.
"You helped draft it?" Damien's voice was dangerously smooth, the initial surprise now replaced by a deep, rumbling suspicion. He took a slow step forward, closing the distance between them until the sheer force of his presence was a physical pressure. "A clever gambit, Evelyn. But a desperate one. Do you truly believe a penalty clause, likely buried in legalese your father prayed I'd never read, is enough to stop me?"
The scent of his cologne—sandalwood and ozone, power and wealth personified—filled her senses. The original Evelyn would have flinched. The lawyer, however, stood her ground.
"It's not the clause that will stop you," she replied, her voice steady despite the frantic pounding in her chest. "It's the cost of ignoring it. Your brand is built on ruthless perfection. Imagine the headlines. 'Damien Blackwood, CEO of the invincible Blackwood Corp, embroiled in a messy public battle to avoid a contractual obligation to his fiancée.' It suggests you either sign contracts without reading them, or you bully women who have you cornered. Neither is a good look for your stockholders."
She let the words hang in the air, a calculated strike at his most vulnerable point: his empire's reputation.
A slow, predatory smile touched Damien's lips. He wasn't angry anymore. He was intrigued. "You are threatening me."
"I am presenting a cost-benefit analysis," Evelyn corrected him seamlessly. "The cost of terminating our engagement is high—financially, and in terms of public image. The benefits of keeping me around, however…" she paused, letting him wait. "...could be substantial."
This was it. The moment to pivot from defense to offense.
"Don't terminate the engagement," she proposed, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's amend it. We maintain our public image as a couple for six months. I will be the perfect, doting fiancée at every gala, every board meeting, every family dinner you require me to attend. I will smooth over tonight's disaster and personally apologize to anyone you deem necessary. I will be an asset."
Damien's eyes narrowed. "And in return for this… performance?"
"You will not touch my father's company," Evelyn stated, her one non-negotiable term. "All retaliatory action against the Reed family and their business ceases immediately. Secondly," she pressed on before he could object, "I require seed capital. A loan, not a gift. Five million dollars, to be paid back with interest within one year."
She needed to build her own power base, and for that, she needed funds that couldn't be traced back to her family, whose assets she knew would soon be frozen in the original timeline.
Damien stared at her, the silence stretching for an eternity. He was reassessing everything he thought he knew about her. This wasn't the spoiled, emotional heiress he'd agreed to marry for business convenience. This was a shark swimming in his waters.
Finally, he let out a short, humourless laugh. "You want me to finance your independence while you play the part of my devoted fiancée? The audacity is almost admirable."
He walked to the wet bar and poured himself a whiskey, the clink of the glass against the crystal decanter the only sound. He didn't offer her one.
"Fine," he said, turning back to face her. "We have a deal, on three conditions."
Evelyn's heart leaped, but she kept her expression neutral. "I'm listening."
"One," he began, taking a sip of his drink, his eyes locked on hers over the rim of the glass. "My legal team drafts the new agreement. It will be iron-clad. You will be at my beck and call, publicly, whenever I require. Any deviation, and our original arrangement—and my original plan to ruin your father—is back on the table."
"Agreed," she said without hesitation.
"Two. The five million is a loan, as you said. But it will be from one of my subsidiary shell corporations. And I will have a seat on the board of whatever company you build with it. I'll want to see my investment at work."
He wanted to watch her. To keep her on a leash. It was a power play, but one she had to accept. "Agreed."
"And three," he said, setting his glass down with a decisive click. He closed the distance between them once more, his voice a low murmur that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "You will move into my penthouse. Immediately. A devoted fiancée should live with her future husband, after all. It's better for appearances."
Checkmate. He had taken her proposal and twisted it, binding her to him physically and financially. She would have her company, her family would be safe for now, but she would be living in the very heart of the lion's den.
Evelyn met his triumphant gaze, a sliver of ice in her own. "Agreed."
She had survived the night. She had changed her fate. But as Damien smirked, a look of dark victory on his handsome face, she knew she had just traded a swift execution for a gilded cage.