The next morning dawned gray and heavy, as though the sky itself carried the weight pressing down on Elena's shoulders. She stood in front of the mirror, clutching the contract, trying to summon courage from somewhere deep inside her.
Her reflection stared back—tired eyes, pale skin, hair pulled back in a messy knot. She looked nothing like the woman she wanted to be, but everything like the woman Adrian Blake had predicted: desperate, cornered, and about to surrender.
Her father's voice drifted from the bedroom. "Ellie?"
She quickly shoved the contract into her bag and stepped into the doorway with a forced smile. "You need anything, Dad?"
He shook his head, smiling faintly. "Just you. Always you."
Her chest ached. She wanted to tell him everything—about Adrian, about the proposal, about the price she was about to pay—but the words stuck in her throat. How could she confess she was trading her freedom for his health? That his little girl was about to marry a stranger out of desperation?
So she only kissed his forehead and whispered, "Rest, okay? I'll be back soon."
---
Blake Tower loomed like a fortress of glass and steel as Elena stepped out of the cab. Every instinct screamed at her to turn back, but she forced her legs to carry her forward.
The receptionist barely glanced up this time. "He's expecting you."
Elena froze. Expecting her?
Before she could ask how, the private elevator doors opened with a soft chime, and there he was. Adrian Blake.
Impeccable suit. Perfectly controlled expression. Those storm-gray eyes fixed on her like he already knew the answer she'd come to give.
"Miss Carter," he said smoothly. "Right on time."
She bristled. "I didn't say yes yet."
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You came back. That's enough."
He turned, and she followed him into the elevator. Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Elena clutched her bag tightly, the contract burning inside it like a live flame.
When the doors opened to his office, she forced herself to stand tall.
"I'll do it," she said before he could speak.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Adrian's expression shifted—barely, but enough. A flicker of satisfaction. A glint of victory.
But before he could revel in it, Elena lifted her chin.
"On one condition."
His brows arched slightly. "Go on."
"This isn't just business for me," she said, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her insides. "If I agree to marry you—even if it's a contract—I won't be treated like one of your employees. I won't be a puppet you can control, or a trophy you can parade around when it suits you."
Adrian's eyes narrowed, studying her carefully.
"I'll play my part," she continued, her pulse racing. "I'll smile when I have to. I'll stand beside you at events. I'll be the wife the world expects. But behind closed doors, I'm still me. You don't get to own me."
The air between them crackled with tension. Elena's heart pounded so hard she thought it might give her away, but she refused to look away from him.
Finally, Adrian stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him. His voice dropped, low and deliberate.
"Do you think you can set terms with me, Elena?"
Her breath caught, but she forced herself to nod. "If this is a contract, then it's not just yours. It's mine too."
For the first time since she'd met him, Adrian's mask slipped—not with anger, but with something else. Respect, maybe. Or curiosity.
His lips curved into the faintest smile. "Very well. Condition accepted."
Relief surged through her, though she tried not to show it. She expected him to hand her a pen immediately, but instead, Adrian walked to his desk drawer and pulled out something else: a velvet box.
He opened it slowly, revealing a ring that glittered under the morning light.
Elena's breath hitched. "Is that—?"
"Our engagement will need to look real," Adrian said simply. "Appearances matter. Tonight, there's a charity gala. You'll attend as my fiancée."
Her heart stopped. "Tonight? Already?"
His gaze locked on hers. "You said yes, Elena. Now the world needs to hear it."