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Chapter 3 - CHAPTER THREE- THE FIRST NIGHT

Sophia Carter had never felt so trapped.

‎She sat stiffly in the leather chair across from Adrian Blackwood's massive desk, her eyes flicking to the papers spread neatly before her. The air in his office smelled faintly of leather, ink, and power — power that didn't belong to her, but wrapped around Adrian like a second skin.

‎The document lay there like a snake coiled and waiting.

‎The Contract

‎Her hands were cold in her lap. "You're serious about this."

‎Adrian leaned back, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His suit was immaculate, his dark eyes unreadable. "I don't waste time on jokes, Miss Carter. This is business."

‎She swallowed. "Marriage isn't business."

‎His mouth curved, though it held no warmth. "For me, everything is business. This marriage solves your problem and mine. You need financial stability, medical bills paid, a roof over your head. I need a wife—on paper—to satisfy shareholders and the board. The contract makes it clean. No complications. No misunderstandings."

‎His words landed like heavy stones. Clinical. Inevitable.

‎Sophia wanted to scream. How dare he reduce marriage to this? But then her mind flashed to her mother's pale, fragile face in the hospital bed. The overdue notices stacked on her kitchen counter. The way she'd been eating cheap instant noodles just to stretch every dollar.

‎Adrian had seen it all. He had stripped her down to her most vulnerable state and weaponized it against her.

‎Her voice shook. "You're taking advantage of me."

‎Adrian's gaze sharpened, but he didn't flinch. "Yes."

‎The bluntness stole her breath.

‎He leaned forward, his tone lower, quieter. "I'm offering you a way out of drowning. You don't have to like me, Miss Carter. In fact, I expect you won't. But you need this. Sign, and your debts disappear. Your mother gets the best care. You get freedom from everything that's been crushing you. All I require is your signature—and one year of your life."

‎Sophia's chest tightened. Rage warred with despair.

‎"You're a monster," she whispered.

‎"Perhaps." His lips barely moved. "But I'm the monster you need."

‎Her hands trembled as she reached for the pen. She stared at the blank line awaiting her name, her entire body screaming against it.

‎Her mind whispered: Do it. For her. Do it.

‎The pen scratched across the page. Sophia Carter became Sophia Blackwood.

‎Her fate was sealed.

‎---

The penthouse

‎That evening, she stood in Adrian's penthouse, feeling as though she'd stepped into another world.

‎Floor-to-ceiling glass walls framed the glittering cityscape. Every surface gleamed — polished marble, sleek steel, soft leather. It was elegant, expensive, suffocating.

‎She shouldn't be here.

‎Adrian poured himself a drink from a crystal decanter, his movements smooth, deliberate. "Get comfortable," he said, not looking at her. "This is your home now."

‎Sophia laughed bitterly. "Home? This isn't a home. It's a cage."

‎His jaw flexed, but he didn't respond.

‎---

‎The Bedroom

‎Hours later, she stood in what was now her bedroom. The wardrobe had been stocked with designer clothes she hadn't chosen. A silk robe clung to her frame. The ring on her finger burned like a shackle.

‎When a knock sounded, she stiffened.

‎"Come in," she said, though she wished she hadn't.

‎Adrian entered, jacket gone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked less polished, but no less dangerous.

‎He studied her for a long moment, his gaze unreadable.

‎"I want to be clear," he said finally. "Tonight is not about consummation. We will not play that role unless circumstances force it. This marriage is appearances. Strategy. Nothing more."

‎Her breath hitched — relief and fury tangled inside her. "So I'm what? A pawn in your corporate chess game?"

‎His lips curved faintly. "Exactly."

‎She stepped closer, her anger boiling over. "Do you enjoy this? Watching me squirm? Watching me give up my freedom because I don't have a choice?"

‎Adrian didn't move, didn't flinch. "Enjoy? No. But I require it. And you signed."

‎The reminder sliced through her chest. She had signed. She had chosen this — or rather, chosen survival.

‎Her voice cracked. "I hate you."

‎For the first time that night, something flickered in his eyes. A shadow of emotion, quickly buried.

‎"You'll find," he said softly, "that hatred is safer than love."

‎---

‎The first night

‎Much later, Sophia lay awake in the massive bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep refused to come. Her body was restless, her mind a storm.

‎Through the balcony doors, the city glittered, alive and untouchable.

‎She rose, pulling the silk robe tighter around her, and stepped outside. Cool air kissed her skin as she leaned against the railing, trying to breathe.

‎And then she saw him.

‎Adrian stood on his own balcony, separated from hers by a pane of glass. A glass of whiskey glowed amber in his hand, his gaze fixed on the skyline.

‎For once, he didn't look like a billionaire CEO or a ruthless negotiator. He looked… lonely.

‎Sophia's heart lurched against her will. She hated him. She hated what he'd forced her into. But seeing him like this — silhouetted against the city, haunted and unreachable — unsettled her.

‎As if sensing her gaze, he turned. Their eyes locked through the glass.

‎The world fell silent.

‎Sophia's breath caught. She should've looked away. She should've gone inside, slammed the curtains shut, built the wall higher.

‎But she didn't.

‎And Adrian didn't, either.

‎For a long, taut moment, neither spoke.

‎And in that silence, they both seemed to understand: this was the first night of something they couldn't control.

‎Enemies. Strangers. Bound by a contract neither could escape.

‎Hatred burned between them, sharp and pure.

‎But beneath it, something else stirred.

‎Something dangerous.

‎Something inevitable.

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