The air in Alexander Blackwood's office was cold, smelling of expensive mahogany and old secrets. Across the massive obsidian desk, a single piece of paper lay between us. A contract that felt more like a death warrant.
"Sign it, Elena," Alexander's voice was a low growl, as smooth as silk and as sharp as a blade.
I looked at him—the man who ruled this city with an iron fist. His dark eyes held no warmth, only the cold calculation of a predator. My hand trembled as I reached for the fountain pen. My father's hospital bills were piling up, and the debt collectors were at our door. I had no choice.
"One year," I whispered, my voice cracking. "One year of being your wife... and then I'm free?"
Alexander leaned forward, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "In exchange for your father's life, you belong to me for 365 days. No questions. No scandals. Just the perfect, obedient wife."
With a deep breath, I pressed the nib to the paper. The ink bled into the page like a blood pact. I wasn't just signing a contract; I was selling my soul to the most dangerous man in New York.
"Done," I said, looking up.