Elara stared at the paper in front of her, the words blurring as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Marriage Contract Agreement.
The letters looked harmless. Clean. Professional.
But she knew better.
"This is insane," she whispered.
Lucien Blackwood stood across the desk, sleeves rolled up, his posture relaxed as though he were discussing a business merger—not a marriage that would alter her entire life.
"You asked for time," he said calmly. "I gave it to you."
Twenty-four hours.
Twenty-four hours of crying herself to sleep.
Twenty-four hours of watching her mother struggle to breathe through hospital tubes.
Twenty-four hours of realizing there was no miracle coming.
Only him.
Elara swallowed. "Why me?"
Lucien's eyes flickered, just for a second—too quick to decipher.
"Because you're convenient," he replied.
"And because you won't fall in love with me."
Her fingers trembled. "You sound very sure."
"I am," he said flatly. "You hate me."
That hurt more than she expected.
She looked down at the contract again.
One year.
Public appearances.
No emotional involvement.
No physical intimacy unless mutually agreed.
Her lips curved into a bitter smile. "You really thought this through."
"I don't do anything halfway."
The silence stretched between them.
"What about after?" she asked softly. "When the year ends?"
Lucien leaned back against the desk, arms folded. "You disappear from my life. I disappear from yours. Clean break."
No promises.
No forever.
Just survival.
Elara closed her eyes.
She thought of the church doors closing behind her.
The empty ring box.
The phone message that still burned on her screen.
Love hadn't saved her.
Money might.
She reached for the pen.
The moment the ink touched the paper, something inside her cracked.
Lucien watched quietly as she signed her name.
"Elara Vance," he read aloud. "From this moment on, you're Mrs. Blackwood."
The title felt heavy. Foreign. Terrifying.
"I want one condition," she said suddenly.
Lucien raised an eyebrow. "You're in no position to negotiate."
"Then don't agree," she snapped, surprising herself. "But I won't be treated like an object. In public or private."
A pause.
Then—"Accepted."
She looked up, stunned.
Lucien met her gaze. "I may be ruthless, but I keep my word."
Her chest tightened.
Why did that make her feel safer?
"Good," she whispered. "Because I won't survive another humiliation."
Lucien stepped closer, his presence overwhelming.
"You won't be humiliated as my wife," he said quietly. "Anyone who dares will answer to me."
For the first time since the nightmare began, Elara felt something unfamiliar.
Protection.
And that scared her more than hatred ever had.
"Pack your things," Lucien added. "You move in tonight."
"Tonight?" she gasped.
"This is a marriage, not a fantasy," he said coolly. "Get used to it."
As he turned away, Elara stared at the signed contract still warm beneath her fingers.
She had sold a year of her life.
But deep down, she feared the price would be far greater than she imagined.