Aria's POV
I ripped the warning note into tiny pieces and watched them fall like snow onto the lawyer's desk.
"Miss Zhang?" The lawyer—a woman with gray hair and worried eyes—pushed her glasses up. "Are you certain you want to proceed? That note suggests—"
"I know what it suggests." My voice came out harder than I meant. "Someone wants me scared. Well, I'm already terrified. Reading anonymous warnings won't change anything."
The truth was simpler and crueler: I didn't have a choice.
Last night, after Vincent left, I'd held Tommy while he cried. The cut on his neck wasn't deep, but it was enough. Enough to show me what our future looked like if I said no. Chen wouldn't stop. He'd come back with more men, sharper knives, and less patience.
My baby brother would die because our father was weak and stupid.
Unless I sold myself first.
"Let me review the terms one final time," the lawyer said gently. She'd introduced herself as Ms. Park, independent counsel hired to make sure I understood what I was signing. She seemed kind, which somehow made this worse. "Marriage to Damien Wolfe for twelve months. You'll live in his residence. Attend social functions as his wife. And—" She paused, uncomfortable. "Attempt to conceive a child."
"Attempt?" I laughed, bitter. "The contract says 'provide an heir.' That's not attempting. That's a guarantee."
Ms. Park's face softened with pity. I hated that look. I'd seen it at Mom's funeral, at the financial aid office when they rejected my loan, at the bubble tea shop when customers threw change at me like I was a beggar.
Poor Aria. Poor stupid girl who couldn't save her family.
"What happens after the year?" I asked, even though I'd read this part a dozen times.
"You receive five million dollars. Your father's debt is permanently erased. You sign away all parental rights to any children conceived during the marriage." Ms. Park looked at me directly. "Miss Zhang, you need to understand—if you have a baby, you'll never see that child again. Legally, they belong to the Wolfe family. You'll have no visitation rights. No contact. Nothing."
My hands clenched in my lap. I'd thought about this all night, staring at my ceiling while Tommy slept in the next room. Could I really do it? Carry a baby for nine months, give birth, then walk away forever?
But then I remembered Tommy's blood on that knife. I remembered my father's useless tears. I remembered being twelve years old myself, watching Mom waste away from cancer because we couldn't afford better treatment.
I remembered being powerless.
"Five million dollars," I whispered. "That's enough to send Tommy to any college he wants. Enough to make sure he never has to be afraid again."
"It's also enough to disappear," Ms. Park said quietly. "You could take your brother and leave the country tonight. Change your names. Start over."
For one beautiful second, I imagined it. Aria and Tommy Zhang, vanishing into another life. Maybe somewhere warm, with beaches and safety and no loan sharks.
Then reality crashed back. "They'd find us. Men like Chen have connections everywhere. And the Wolfe family—" I swallowed hard. "Vincent showed me articles about them. Damien Wolfe isn't just rich. His family controls half the underground business in New York. If I run, they'll hunt us down."
Ms. Park didn't argue. She knew I was right.
"So I sign," I said. "I marry him. I have his baby. I take the money and I make sure Tommy has a real future." My voice cracked. "At least one of us gets to be happy."
"You're very brave," Ms. Park said softly.
"I'm very desperate. There's a difference."
She slid the contract across the desk with a pen. Forty-two pages of legal words that basically said: You're not a person, you're a womb for hire.
My hand shook as I picked up the pen. Black ink. Expensive. Probably cost more than my weekly salary.
"Miss Zhang, wait." Ms. Park pulled out another paper. "There's been an addition. Mr. Wolfe insists on meeting you before the marriage is finalized. Tonight, eight PM, at his penthouse. If either of you changes your mind after meeting, the contract is void."
My heart hammered. "I thought this was just... business. Why does he want to meet me?"
"I don't know. But it's your opportunity to see who you're agreeing to marry." Ms. Park's eyes were serious. "Pay attention tonight. Watch how he treats you. Some men in these arrangements can be cruel. If you sense danger—real danger—you can still walk away."
And go where? Back to Chen? Back to watching Tommy die?
I signed my name on every page. Aria Zhang. Aria Zhang. Aria Zhang. Over and over until the letters stopped looking like words and just became shapes.
When I finished, my hand was cramping and my eyes were burning with tears I wouldn't let fall.
"It's done," Ms. Park said, gathering the papers. "You'll meet Mr. Wolfe tonight. Vincent Cross will pick you up at seven-thirty. And Miss Zhang?" She touched my hand briefly. "I hope I'm wrong about all of this. I hope he surprises you."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Outside the lawyer's office, the afternoon sun felt too bright. Normal people walked past me, carrying coffee and talking on phones, living regular lives. None of them had just signed away their future to a stranger.
My phone buzzed. A text from Tommy: Did you do it? Are we safe now?
I typed back: Yes. Everything's going to be okay.
Such a perfect lie.
Another text came through, from a number I didn't recognize: You signed. You actually signed. You stupid, stupid girl.
Ice flooded my veins. I spun around, searching the street. Who sent this? Who was watching me?
Another message: He's going to destroy you. Just like he destroyed the others.
My fingers trembled as I typed: Who are you? What others?
The response came immediately: Check the news. Search "Damien Wolfe ex-girlfriends." Three of them are dead, Aria. Three. And you just agreed to be number four.
The phone slipped from my hand and clattered onto the sidewalk.
Dead. Three women. Dead.
No. No, this had to be a lie. Some sick joke. Vincent said Damien wasn't a monster. Ms. Park would have warned me if he was dangerous. This was just someone trying to scare me, like the note in the contract.
But my hands were already shaking as I picked up my phone and opened the search browser.
I typed: "Damien Wolfe girlfriends."
The first result made my blood turn to ice water.
Three Women Connected to Billionaire Damien Wolfe Die in Mysterious Accidents.
The article was two years old. Three photos of beautiful women, smiling and alive. Below each photo: dates of death.
Car accident. Drowning. Fall from a balcony.
All within six months.
All ruled accidents.
All after dating Damien Wolfe.
My vision blurred. I couldn't breathe. This couldn't be real. This couldn't—
My phone rang, Vincent's name on the screen.
"Miss Zhang," his cold voice said when I answered. "The car will pick you up at seven-thirty sharp. Wear something appropriate. Mr. Wolfe doesn't like to be kept waiting."
"The women," I whispered. "The three women who died—"
"Accidents," Vincent said flatly. "Tragic but unrelated to Mr. Wolfe. Don't believe internet conspiracies, Miss Zhang. They'll only make tonight more difficult."
He hung up.
I stood on that sidewalk, contract signed, five hours until I met my future husband, staring at photos of dead women who'd made the same mistake I just made.
Trusting that the devil would be kind.
And somewhere in my pocket, my phone buzzed with one final message:
Tonight, when you meet him, look at his eyes. Really look. Then you'll understand what he's capable of. And by then, it'll be too late to run.
You're already his.