Heer
I stared at the two pages in my trembling hands. Two sheets of white paper, but they felt heavier than the world. I could barely see the words through my tears, yet one thing was clear.
"Marriage Contract."
A marriage that wasn't built on love, laughter, or dreams—but business. Cold, emotionless, and secret. A deal signed behind closed doors.
I looked up at my parents, hoping this was a nightmare I'd wake up from. But no. My father's jaw was tight, his eyes avoiding mine. My mother just sat there, silent like always. This wasn't a request. This was an order.
"He's the heir to the Italian mafia," my father said, his voice sharp. "Do you know what that means, Heer? Power. Protection. Partnership. This is for the future of our company. Your future."
My future? He was trading me like a pawn on a chessboard. For money, for deals, for fear.
"Do you even know what you're asking me to do?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "He's a stranger… and a criminal."
"Enough!" My father slammed his fist on the table. "You'll marry Carlos Moretti, sign the contract, and not speak a word of this to anyone. It's business. You'll live separately. No one needs to know. You're not going to ruin this family with your childish emotions."
I felt the ground leave me.
Carlos Moretti.
The name alone was enough to shake people. Ruthless. Cold. Dangerous. I had never seen him, but I had heard the whispers. About his world. His bloodstained hands. His unreadable eyes. And now... I was being forced to be his wife.
But not a real wife. A contract wife. One year. Silent. Secret. Without love, without touch.
I signed the contract.
My hand shook as I wrote my name—Heer Kapoor—on that paper. A signature that would change my life forever.
Carlos
"You sure she signed it?" I asked Matteo, my cousin and only trusted advisor.
"She did," he replied, showing me a scanned copy of the contract. "No fuss. But she looked… scared."
I scoffed. "They all are."
I didn't care about her. Not her face, not her voice. She was just another deal sealed. Her father owed me more than he could pay, and this marriage protected everyone's interests.
"She'll stay out of my way?" I asked coldly.
"She's just a girl, Carlos. Looks innocent. Quiet type. But… beautiful."
I lit a cigarette. Beautiful didn't matter to me.
No one gets close. No one knows the real me. Not anymore.
She would be nothing more than a name on paper. A quiet shadow in my house. I had rules. I didn't care what she felt, or what she feared.
She was just my wife by contract. And nothing more.
That night, I stood alone in front of the mirror. I had everything—money, weapons, men who feared me. But I didn't have peace. I didn't have love. I didn't want it either. Love was weakness.
This marriage? It was just survival.