Elara couldn't stop staring at the letter.
Her eyes had read it a dozen times already, but the words still felt fake, like something out of someone else's life.
"Mr. Thorne wishes to convey his appreciation.
A private meeting is requested at your earliest convenience.
Thorne Enterprises, Penthouse Suite."
Thorne Enterprises. Just the name alone sounded intimidating.
It was the skyscraper everyone in the city whispered about, a place made of glass and steel, where people signed billion-dollar deals before lunch and probably sold their souls in fine print.
Her finger caressed the logo that was embossed with gold. It wasn't an invitation. It was an order. And the Thornes have never been the ones to use pleasantries.
Two days later, Elara was standing in the lobby, cursing all the choices that had brought her there.
The surroundings were quite absurdly perfect: the floor made of marble so shiny that she could see herself, the walls of glass were as high as the clouds, and the receptionists appeared to be practicing for a luxury perfume commercial.
Meanwhile, she looked like the unpaid intern who accidentally wandered in.
"You managed to save a billionaire", she said to herself. You can also survive by saying hello to one. But it was easier said than done.
The elevator doors closed, and the journey seemed to last forever. Her ears popped thrice on the way up. By the time she reached the top floor, her palms were sweaty enough to water a plant.
The doors opened, and she was hit with a very classy atmosphere of white marble, cool air-conditioning, and money. A lot of money, to be precise.
Julian Thorne was there, seated at a glass desk, pale but alive. Still, the spot at his temple gave away a bruise, but his piercing gray eyes were completely awake, the type of eyes that had experienced a lot and were very skeptical about everything.
Eleanor Thorne, his mum, sat beside him, dressed in silver, her emerald earrings shimmering. She didn't look like she breathed, more like she allowed oxygen out of politeness.
"Ms. Vance," Julian said, his voice low, hoarse yet firm. "Thanks for coming."
"Naturally," she replied promptly. "I"
"Sit," Eleanor cut in, motioning to the chair opposite them.
Elara did as she was told, her legs too shaky to put up a fight.
Julian leaned forward slightly. "You saved my life. I wanted to thank you in person."
He meant it, she could tell. But before she could respond, Eleanor's voice cut in like an ice pick.
"Let's not act like this was a simple act of heroism."
Elara frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"What happened that night," Eleanor said calmly, "has already caused… complications."
Elara blinked. "Complications?"
Eleanor folded her hands neatly. "The media has turned it into a circus. You've seen it, haven't you? Every news channel, every gossip blog, 'Mysterious Girl Saves Thorne Heir.' They're calling you the girl who stole Julian Thorne's heart."
Elara's mouth went dry. "I didn't"
"We know," Julian said quickly, voice tired. "You never wanted any of this."
"But it is here now," Eleanor went on, unperturbed. "The online community is fascinating. They have concluded that you are Julian's girlfriend. And with the rumors about him that have been making the rounds..." She let her voice trail off and sent a sharp glance at her son.
Julian's mouth tightened. "Mother."
She ignored him. "We're simply offering a way to control the narrative. Before it controls us."
Elara tried to process it. "Control the narrative? You mean lie?"
Arthur's voice answered before Eleanor could.
Because suddenly, the elevator chimed.
And he walked in.
Arthur Thorne.
The smell of power, if it existed, would most likely be the smell of the cologne the man was wearing. He didn't look like a human; he looked like a powerful ruler who had learned to walk like a man.
"Eleanor tells me you're the one who saved my son," he said, his voice deep, smooth, and utterly cold.
Elara half-rose. "Yes, sir. I"
He raised a hand. "Then we owe you. Which, in our world, means you owe us."
She froze. "I don't… have any obligations toward you."
Arthur slowly advanced, his gaze as hard and cold as steel. "You are involved in a thing now. A narrative. And narratives can ruin businesses."
Her heart skipped a beat. "I don't get it."
"You are not required to understand," he answered plainly. "What is required of you is just to act your role."
Julian's voice interrupted the quiet. "Father"
Arthur kept his face turned away from him. "It's very easy. You and Ms. Vance will create the public image of being a couple." You'll be seen, photographed, and interviewed if necessary. The world will believe you're in love."
Elara's brain was short-circuited. "You're asking me to fake a relationship?!"
Julian rubbed a hand over his face. "Not asking. Telling," he muttered under his breath.
Arthur straightened his cufflinks. "You have twenty-four hours to agree. After that, our patience evaporates."
It wasn't a threat. It was the deadline.
Elara felt every drop of blood leave her body. "You can't force me into this."
Eleanor tilted her head. "We're not forcing. We're offering protection. You've been hounded by the press already, haven't you? You can't walk to class without a camera pointed at your face. This is the cleanest solution."
Her voice softened almost gently. "You'll have security, privacy, and stability. You'll be safe."
It sounded like a contract. One she hadn't asked for.
"I… I need time to think," Elara said quietly.
Arthur stood, buttoning his suit jacket with calm precision. "You have twenty-four hours. After that, you either stand with us or against us."
She knew what against meant.
When she finally whispered, "I'll do it," it didn't sound like surrender. It sounded like she signed away her freedom.
Arthur didn't smile. He didn't need to. "Very good, Ms. Vance. A wise decision."
He turned to Eleanor, who was already swiping across a tablet like this was just another Tuesday deal.
"Eleanor will arrange the details," he said. "Wardrobe, housing, media protocol. Julian will brief you."
Eleanor nodded briskly. "Your scholarship has been adjusted. Full tuition, housing, and expenses covered. You'll take a temporary academic leave and move into Julian's penthouse immediately."
Elara's breath caught. Move in?
Julian's penthouse. His world. His cage.
Eleanor's voice faded into the background noise. Elara could only hear her own heartbeat, pounding like an alarm she couldn't shut off.
She'd saved Julian's life and now, she was about to lose her own.
"Ms. Vance," Julian gently said, standing up from his chair. "If you'll come with me… we have a lot to talk about."
The chair she was sitting on made a scratching noise against the marble floor as she got up. The sound reverberated in the empty, spotless room - a small, last noise which in some way felt like a door closing behind her.