The study was oppressively silent, the kind of quiet that settled like a noose tightening with every passing second. Selene stood at the center of it, spine ramrod straight, fists clenched around the contract that had just signed away her freedom. The thick pages trembled in her hands, despite her best effort to appear composed.
Across the room, Dante Blackwell sat in his chair like a god judging the damned.
He hadn't spoken a word to her since they entered the study. Hadn't offered her a drink. Not a seat. Not even a glance.
Until now.
"Read it," he said, voice as smooth and cold as obsidian. "Out loud."
Selene blinked. "All of it?"
He didn't smile. "Every clause. You deserve to know exactly what you sold yourself into."
Her stomach twisted. The fluorescent light above cast long shadows against the walls, as if the entire room bore witness to her undoing. She swallowed hard and looked down at the pages. Her voice wavered at first, a fragile thread that barely rose above the rustle of paper.
"Clause One: The marriage term will last exactly one year..."
Dante leaned back, lips curling slightly. "One year. Long enough to break you in. Not long enough for you to become a nuisance."
Her breath caught, but she didn't react. She couldn't afford to.
She continued, her voice gaining strength as anger simmered beneath her ribs.
"No public affection required. No marital intimacy permitted. No children allowed. No romantic involvement outside the marriage."
He raised a brow. "You look surprised."
"I assumed you'd expect... something else."
"Ah." He tilted his head slightly, mocking. "You thought I'd sleep with you?"
Her jaw clenched.
"I don't touch traitors' daughters, Selene. Not even the pretty ones."
That one stung more than she'd admit. It shouldn't have. This wasn't real. It was a transaction. A contract. A desperate woman bargaining with a monster to save the only person she had left.
She cleared her throat and pushed on.
"You will fulfill all public appearances as Mrs. Blackwell when summoned. You will not speak to the press. You will not cause scandal. You will not disgrace the Blackwell name."
Dante's voice was a slow whisper, rich with danger. "And if you do?"
Selene's eyes dropped to the next line. Her stomach turned.
"The contract will be terminated, and the agreed sum for Miss Lila Hart's medical treatment will be revoked."
There it was. The leash around her throat.
Dante's lips curved in satisfaction. "That's the line that keeps you in check. You step out of line, your sister pays the price. And I don't mean metaphorically."
"You're using her to control me," Selene whispered, voice cracking.
"I'm buying your silence, your obedience, and your image," Dante replied coolly. "You should be grateful I'm not demanding your body."
She stared down at the page, heart pounding.
Her name waited on the dotted line like a curse.
Lila didn't know the details. She couldn't. She would never allow Selene to sacrifice herself like this if she knew.
But Selene would do it anyway. Again and again.
For her.
With trembling fingers, she signed.
The ink bled like blood on the paper.
Dante didn't even blink. He stood up and pulled out a second document—a single page, handwritten, unlike the printed legal contract.
"What's that?" she asked, wary.
"The final clause," he said.
"I already signed—"
"This is an addendum," he interrupted smoothly. "A personal one. Nothing your lawyer needs to see."
"I don't have a lawyer," she said tightly.
His smirk deepened. "Exactly."
He slid it toward her. She read the words slowly, her chest growing tight with each line.
> "If Mrs. Blackwell breaks any of the above terms, in any capacity, Mr. Blackwell reserves full discretion to enact private punishment as he deems appropriate. Including but not limited to: social destruction, legal prosecution, financial ruin."
Selene looked up sharply, eyes blazing. "That's not legal."
Dante leaned in, expression unreadable. "Prove it. Go to court. Let's see how far you get when every judge in this city owes me something."
"You can't enforce this."
"I can. I will."
His finger tapped the edge of the page. "Initial it."
She stared at him, the pen shaking in her grip. "You said no intimacy, no affection, no... love. But punishment? That's where you draw the line?"
Dante's voice was cool. "I don't need to love you to own you."
Her stomach turned. Her hands trembled.
But she signed anyway.
The instant the pen lifted from the paper, something in the air shifted. Dante stood, slow and deliberate, as if he'd just won a war she never agreed to fight. His presence filled the room like smoke, suffocating and inescapable.
"You're mine now," he murmured, voice low and final. "For one year, you'll be the perfect wife. No mistakes. No missteps. No outbursts. One wrong move, and I won't hesitate."
"I don't belong to you," she whispered, even as her body betrayed her, inching back from his towering form.
He reached out and brushed a knuckle down her cheek. It wasn't a caress—it was a warning in disguise.
"Don't lie to yourself, Mrs. Blackwell. You're owned. Bought. Paid for."
Her voice was brittle. "Why go through all this if you hate me so much?"
Dante's smirk was slow. Predatory.
"Because ruining you publicly would've been easy. But breaking you quietly? That's far more satisfying."
Selene couldn't breathe.
She turned, heart racing, legs trembling beneath her.
"Is that all?" she asked, her voice barely steady.
"For now." He walked past her toward the door, stopping only to glance over his shoulder. "Your dress fitting is in thirty minutes. Then a charity luncheon. Wear diamonds. Smile. Pretend to be the wife you signed up to be."
"I'm not a puppet."
"No," he said with a cruel smirk. "You're the show."
Selene left without another word.
But his voice fo
llowed her down the hallway like a ghost, low and dangerous.
"Break a single rule, Selene... and I'll make you regret ever signing."