CHAPTER TWO — TERMS OF BETRAYAL AND PROMISES
Elara didn't remember leaving Damian Aurelius's office.
One moment she had been staring at the signature ink drying on the contract, and the next—she was in the elevator, sinking slowly toward the lobby, clutching the folder like it held her entire destiny.
Because it did.
The city felt colder when she stepped outside, the drizzle now reduced to a thin mist that clung to her hair and clothes. She moved automatically, boots splashing through shallow puddles as her mind replayed the last hour.
His voice.
His eyes.
His terms.
She had agreed to marry a man built on revenge.
What have I done?
---
Elara didn't return home immediately.
She couldn't.
The tiny apartment she shared with her sick father was too filled with memories, too filled with guilt. Instead, she walked the busy streets, letting the city noise drown out her thoughts.
Her phone buzzed.
Aurelius Holdings — Incoming Message
Her breath hitched as she opened it.
> "A driver will pick you up tomorrow at 8 AM sharp. Bring only the essentials. - D.A."
Tomorrow.
It was happening tomorrow.
Her lungs tightened.
A marriage not born from love, or choice, or fate—
but from debt, vengeance, and desperation.
She stared at the message until her fingers trembled, then tucked the phone away and continued walking.
---
When she arrived home, her father was sitting up in bed, coughing into a worn handkerchief. His skin looked paler than usual, his frame thinner. But he smiled when he saw her.
"Elara… you're home early."
Home early.
If only he knew.
Elara forced a smile and sat beside him, brushing his hair back gently.
"Are you feeling okay today, Dad?"
"A little tired." He leaned back, breathing unevenly. "But I'm alive, thanks to you. You work so hard. I'm sorry I've become such a burden."
The word stabbed her heart.
"You're not a burden," she said quickly. "Never."
But the image of the contract flashed in her mind—the bold, inked promise she had made.
This is for him, she reminded herself. Everything I do now is for him.
Her father touched her hand, looking at her with tired eyes.
"You deserve happiness, Elara. Not this constant struggle."
Her throat tightened so painfully she couldn't speak.
If only he knew the price she had just agreed to pay.
---
Night came slowly, but sleep didn't.
Elara lay awake, staring at the cracked ceiling, replaying every line of the contract.
Aurelius Mansion.
A wing of the house reserved for her.
A private security detail.
Public appearances.
Mandatory events.
No romantic involvement expected or required.
No emotional entanglements.
Nothing personal.
Just a transaction.
She turned to her side, pulling the blanket close as guilt twisted in her chest.
Damian Aurelius wanted revenge.
She was the tool he intended to use.
But against who?
Against her father?
Against the people who hurt his family?
Against a world that feared him?
And what role was she supposed to play?
Wife.
Shield.
Pawn.
Companion.
Figurehead.
She didn't know.
But the moment she signed, she had stepped into the center of Damian's world—
a world known for power, cruelty, and secrets.
Her life would no longer be simple.
It would no longer be hers.
---
Morning arrived too quickly.
Elara packed quietly, carefully folding her few clothes into a small suitcase. She paused at her father's bedside, kissing his forehead softly.
"I'll be back soon," she whispered.
A lie.
She didn't know when she would return again—or if she would be allowed to.
At exactly 8 AM, a polished black car stopped in front of the building. A man in a suit stepped out and nodded respectfully.
"Miss Gray? Mr. Aurelius sent me. Your new residence awaits."
New residence.
New identity.
New life she wasn't ready for.
Elara took one last breath of the world she knew and stepped into the car.
The city blurred past the window as they drove through wealthier districts, each building grander than the last. Eventually they reached the gates of an estate so large it seemed to swallow the landscape.
Tall iron gates opened silently.
Behind them stood the Aurelius Mansion—a sprawling architectural masterpiece of glass, stone, and black steel, surrounded by manicured gardens and guarded by men who looked more like soldiers than employees.
Elara's heartbeat stuttered.
"This… this is where he lives?"
"Yes, Miss."
As they pulled to a stop, the front doors opened.
And Damian Aurelius himself stepped out.
He wore a tailored suit, shadows clinging to him like a second aura. His eyes swept over her with cold precision—assessing, measuring, calculating.
"You're on time," he said.
Elara swallowed. "I—I didn't want to cause any trouble."
A hint of something—approval? amusement?—passed through his expression before it vanished.
"You'll cause trouble eventually," he said calmly. "Everyone does."
Her stomach twisted.
He stepped closer, stopping just inches in front of her.
"This is your new home," he said. "And from today onward, you will live by my terms."
His gaze locked onto hers, unblinking.
"No lies. No secrets. And no disappearing. You belong to this marriage contract now."
Elara felt a shiver run through her.
Because in that moment—
standing before the billionaire who held her fate in his hands—
she realized something terrifying.
She had signed the contract thinking he was cold.
She hadn't realized he was dangerous.
— END OF CHAPTER TWO —