The air in Elias Thorne's office felt heavier than gold. It wasn't just the blasting air conditioning that made me shiver, but the way he looked at me: as if I were a piece of property he'd just acquired at a seedy auction. The scent of expensive tobacco and designer perfume permeated every corner, a fragrance that screamed power and ruthlessness.
"Sign it already, Zahra," he said, without even looking up from his tablet. His voice was like velvet scraping across gravel. Dry. Bossy.
I stared at the document on the mahogany desk. My pale, trembling fingers gripped the edge of the wood until my knuckles ached. Outside, the afternoon sun beat down on the city's skyscrapers, but inside this office, the world felt dark, suffocating. My father had lost everything: his empire, his dignity, and worst of all, my freedom.
"Are you asking me to disappear?" I whispered. My voice was small, something I immediately hated. "To pretend to love a man who looks at me like I'm an accounting entry?"
Elias finally looked up. His eyes were an icy blue, devoid of any trace of human warmth, yet charged with an intensity that took my breath away. He wasn't just a handsome man from a magazine; he was a predator in a three-piece suit.
"I'm asking you to survive," he replied, slamming the tablet aside. "Your father's debts don't evaporate just because you have scruples or a clear conscience. If you sign, the debt dies today. If you walk out that door, you'll see him stripped of the last thing he has left: his life."
I swallowed hard. I knew he wasn't lying. In this shark-infested world, Elias Thorne had the biggest teeth. I glanced at the gold pen resting on the contract. It looked like it weighed a ton.
"One year," I said, trying to regain some strength in my voice. "Just one damn year."
"One year," he repeated, leaning forward. His physical presence was overwhelming. "And Zahra, don't make the mistake of falling in love. I have no room for drama in my life, much less for love. You're a piece on my chessboard to secure my grandfather's inheritance. Nothing more."
I picked up the pen. My signature was an irregular scribble, an ink scar on the white paper that sealed my fate. What he didn't know, what his arrogance prevented him from seeing, was that my heart was already too broken to feel anything for someone like him. Or so I wanted to believe.
When I finished, Elias took the paper and put it in a safe embedded in the wall with an indifference that hurt me more than I wanted to admit. Not a word of comfort, not even an "I'm sorry." Just business.
"Your luggage has already been sent to my attic," she said, returning to her work as if I were no longer there. "We have a gala tomorrow at eight. Behave like the woman I supposedly adore. If anyone doubts our 'engagement,' the deal is off, and your father will be in jail before dawn."
I left the office with my legs feeling like jelly. The Thorne company hallway was long, filled with people in expensive suits who looked at me curiously. Did they know I'd just sold out? Probably not. To them, I was the lucky one who'd snagged the most eligible bachelor in the country. But as I descended in the elevator, watching the numbers drop, I felt like I was going straight to hell.
I reached the street and the heat hit my face. The noise of the traffic and the shouts of the street vendors reminded me that the world kept turning, even though mine had stopped. I searched for my phone in my bag. I had three missed calls from my father. I couldn't answer him. What was I going to say? "Hey, Dad, you don't owe anything anymore because now I'm a billionaire's rag doll?"
I wandered aimlessly for a few blocks, trying to process that my life of luxury and freedom had turned into a gilded cage. I stopped in front of a shop window and saw my reflection. I was still the same Zahra, with dark hair and large eyes, but something in my gaze had died away. I looked small, fragile.
"Don't break down," I told myself. "It's only a year. You can fake it. You can survive."
But as I recalled Elias's gaze, that deep, icy blue, a part of me knew this year was going to be the longest of my life. And that, perhaps, when it was over, nothing would remain of the woman I used to be. The contract didn't just demand my name; it demanded my soul, and I had handed it over on a silver platter to a man who didn't even consider me human.