Emma's world had never felt so small.
At dawn, guards came to fetch her. They gave her no time to pack what could she pack, anyway? Her whole life was a thin blanket and a cracked bowl. Clara stood in the doorway as they led Emma out.
"Keep your head down," Clara whispered, voice tight. "And… survive, Emma. Just survive."
Emma wanted to hug her, but the guards shoved her forward. The mansion that had been her prison loomed behind her. She should've felt relief, but dread twisted in her stomach. She wasn't leaving captivity. She was being sold into another one.
The carriage waiting outside was finer than anything she'd ever touched. Velvet seats, gold handles. She sat stiffly, staring at her dirty hands on the rich fabric. The guards closed the doors, and the wheels rolled away.
The city blurred past the windows until tall gates opened to reveal Darius's palace. Marble walls, shining towers, gardens blooming with roses. Servants lined the steps as the carriage stopped.
Emma stepped out, heart racing. Whispers started at once.
"Is that her?"
"The one the King bought?"
"She looks too plain."
"Still, he must've seen something…"
Her face burned. She wanted to sink into the ground.
A woman in fine silks walked up, eyes raking Emma from head to toe. She smirked. "This is what His Majesty dragged in? Pathetic."
Emma's chest tightened. She lowered her head, saying nothing.
"Enough," a deep voice cut through the air.
Emma's breath caught. Darius stood at the top of the steps, tall and commanding, a simple black coat stretching across his broad chest. His eyes locked on her, steady, unreadable.
The mocking woman bowed and stepped back. Everyone else fell silent.
Darius descended the steps and stopped in front of Emma. His presence was overwhelming, like standing in front of a storm.
"Come," he said simply.
Her legs felt heavy, but she followed him inside.
The palace halls glittered with chandeliers and carved marble pillars. Servants bowed as they passed. Emma felt small, her servant dress shabby against all the grandeur.
Finally, Darius led her into a quiet chamber. A fire burned low, and papers lay on a polished desk. He gestured for her to sit.
Emma perched on the edge of a chair, hands clasped tight.
He studied her for a long moment. "You look terrified."
She forced her voice steady. "Shouldn't I be?"
One corner of his mouth twitched. "Fair enough. But you are not here to be a servant, Emma."
Her brows knit. "Then why am I here?"
He picked up a paper, holding it out. "This is a contract. For three years, you will be my wife in name. You will attend functions, stand by my side, and live here in comfort. In return, you will receive five million dollars and, when the three years end, your freedom."
Emma's breath caught. "Your… wife?"
"Yes," he said simply. "But only for a time. I don't force what doesn't want to be given. The contract protects you as much as it binds you."
Her chest heaved. Freedom. The word hit her like a spark of light in endless dark.
"And if I refuse?" she whispered.
"Then you return to the Blue Moon Pack," he said calmly. "To Crawford."
Emma flinched, heart twisting at the name. She thought of James's cold eyes, the cruel smirk at the banquet. The man who had rejected her, humiliated her, sold her like trash.
Her hands shook as she reached for the pen. "I'll sign."
Darius's gaze softened for just a second. "Wise choice."
Her name scratched across the paper—Emma Lawson.
Darius stared at her with a satisfied smile as she dropped the pen.
****************************************************
That evening, palace maids bathed her, dressed her in fine silks, combed her hair until it shone. She hardly recognized the woman in the mirror. But beneath the beauty, her eyes were shadowed with fear.
A knock came at the door. A servant entered. "His Majesty requests a health check, my lady. Standard procedure."
Emma nodded, uneasy. She sat as the palace physician, an elderly wolf with kind eyes, examined her. He checked her pulse, her eyes, then asked quietly, "When was your last cycle, child?"
Emma froze. Her lips parted, then closed again. "I… I don't remember."
The physician's brows lifted slightly, but he only hummed and finished quickly. "You're in good health, my lady."
He left with his bag, bowing politely. Emma exhaled, clutching her dress. Maybe he hadn't noticed. Maybe she was safe.
Down the hall, the physician entered Darius's private chamber. Darius looked up from his desk.
"Well?"
The physician lowered his voice. "She is with child."
Darius stilled. For a long moment, silence stretched. Then a slow smile touched his lips, rare and dangerous.
"Keep this secret," he said softly. "Tell no one. Not even her."
The physician bowed. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Darius leaned back in his chair, eyes gleaming in the firelight. "So… fate has given me an heir after all."