Friday morning.
Ella woke at 3 A.M.Couldn't sleep. Couldn't breathe.
His messages looped in her mind—his voice, his power, his reach.He had keys to everything. Her office. Her apartment. Her life.
And now, maybe, to her.
She stared at the ceiling for hours, heartbeat loud in the dark.
Then she made a decision.She had to leave. Before this went too far.Before she stopped wanting to leave.
At 5 A.M., she opened her laptop.
Job postings. Assistant positions. Secretarial work. Anything that paid enough for her mother's treatment.
She applied to fifteen companies—every one of them competitors, each far from Blackwood Enterprises.Far from him.
By 6 A.M., her résumé was everywhere.
She used her personal email, not the company one.He couldn't track this.Couldn't stop it.
She was getting out.
7:45 A.M.
She wore the gray dress—high collar, long sleeves—covering the bruises on her neck.His marks.
The building looked the same as always, but it didn't feel like work anymore. It felt like prison.
Her desk was spotless. Too normal.
Then—8:02 A.M.—her personal email pinged.
Thank you for applying to Chen Technologies. Unfortunately, we've decided to move forward with other candidates.
Ella frowned. That was fast.
Another email. 8:04 A.M.Another rejection.
8:06 A.M.Another.
Her heart dropped.
One after another—fifteen applications, fifteen rejections.All within minutes.
No one rejected candidates that fast.
Unless someone made them.
"Good morning, Miss Montgomery."
She jumped.
Alexander stood behind her. Perfect suit. Perfect smile. Cold eyes.
"You're early," she managed.
"So are you." His gaze slid over her, deliberate. "The gray dress. Obedient. I like it."
He passed her, heading into his office.
Ella stared at her inbox. The rejection emails blurred together.
No. No, no—he couldn't have—
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number:
Stop applying to other companies. You won't get hired. I've made sure of it.– A
Her blood turned to ice.
She stood. Walked straight to his office. Didn't knock.
He looked up, unbothered. "Yes?"
"You sabotaged my job applications." Her voice trembled with rage.
"Did I?" He leaned back, calm, smug. "That's quite an accusation."
"All fifteen rejected me in ten minutes. That's not coincidence."
"Isn't it?" His smile sharpened. "Or maybe you're just not qualified."
"Liar."
"Prove it."
He stood, circled his desk, closing the distance. "You can't. Because I have friends everywhere. Influence. Reach."His voice dropped, dangerous. "Did you really think you could leave me?"
"I'm not yours to keep—"
"Yes, you are." His hand caught her chin, firm, claiming. "You signed a contract. But more than that—" his fingers tightened—"you're mine because I say so."
Ella jerked away. "This is illegal—"
"Is it?" His tone was silk and steel. "I haven't broken any laws. I just made a few calls. Told a few colleagues about a… problematic employee. Unreliable. Unprofessional."
He smiled, cruel and effortless."Your reputation's gone, Ella. No one will hire you. Not while I exist."
"You're destroying my life—"
"No. I'm protecting my investment." He turned back to his desk. "Now, get back to work. We have meetings all day."
She didn't move. Couldn't.
"Oh—and Ella?" he added, without looking up. "Try that again, and the consequences will be worse."
She worked like a machine.All day.
No emotion. No thought.
At lunch, she didn't eat.
By 3 P.M., her phone rang. Her mother.
"Mom?"
"Ella! Sweetheart." Her voice was tired, worried. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but the hospital called. They need another payment. The treatment schedule—"
"How much?"
"Thirty thousand. By Monday."
Ella's stomach dropped. Thirty thousand. She had eight hundred in her account.
"I'll figure it out," she said softly. "Don't worry."
"You're such a good daughter," her mother whispered. "I don't deserve you."
"I love you, Mom."
She hung up, her vision swimming.
Thirty thousand dollars. Three days. No way out.
"Bad news?"
Alexander's voice. Again. He'd heard.
She looked up. He was watching her. Always watching.
"My mother needs money," she said quietly.
"How much?"
"None of your business."
"Everything about you is my business." He sat on her desk, far too close. "How much, Ella?"
"Thirty thousand. By Monday."
He pulled out his phone. Typed something.
"Done," he said.
She blinked. "What?"
"I transferred it. Directly to the hospital. Your mother's covered for six months."
"Why—why would you do that?"
"Because you need it." His eyes caught hers. "Because I can. Because you're mine to take care of."
"I don't want your charity—"
"It's not charity. It's an investment."
He stood. "Come to my office. We need to talk."
The air in his office felt heavier.
He closed the door. Locked it.
"Sit."
She did, numb.
He opened a folder. Laid it on the desk.
"What's this?" she asked.
"A contract. A new one."
"I already have—"
"This is different." He slid it toward her. "Read."
Her eyes widened.
PERSONAL SERVICES CONTRACTBetween: Alexander BlackwoodAnd: Ella Montgomery
Terms:
Duration: One (1) year
Compensation: $10,000,000 upon completion
Services: Exclusive companionship—public and private. Full availability. Complete obedience.
Her hands trembled. "What is this?"
"An offer." His tone was soft, lethal. "One year. You're mine. Completely. No more secretary games. No more pretending."
"You want to buy me—"
"I want to own you." His gaze burned. "Honestly. Legally. One year of your life. In return, your mother lives. Your debts vanish. Your future is secured."
"That's—this is prostitution—"
"This is clarity." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "No lies. No pretense."
"What does 'companion' even mean?"
"You live with me. Attend events. Be my partner publicly. My companion privately." His voice lowered. "Let me take care of you. Protect you. Own you."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you stay where you are. Same job. Same contract. Same misery." He paused. "And your mother's hospital account? It's not paid yet. Just pending."
Her breath caught.
Blackmail. Elegant. Legal. Perfect.
"You're a monster."
"I'm a businessman." He pushed a pen across the desk. "Sign it—or don't. Your choice."
"That's not a choice."
"It's the only one you have."
Ten million dollars.Her mother's life.Her freedom—gone.
She stared at the contract until the words blurred.
"What happens after the year?" she whispered.
"You walk away. Free. Paid. Or…" He smiled faintly. "Maybe you won't want to."
"Why would I ever—"
"You tell me." He turned toward the window. "You hate me, but you can't stop thinking about me."
"You're delusional."
"Am I?" He faced her again. "Sign it, Ella. Save her. Save yourself. And see what happens when you stop fighting me."
Her hand shook as she picked up the pen.
"If I sign," she said slowly, "what exactly do you expect?"
"Everything." His voice was low, absolute. "Your time. Your obedience. Your body—when you're ready."
Her heart stuttered.
"But I won't force you," he added. "You'll come to me willingly. Or not at all."
"You're very confident."
"I'm very patient."
He smiled. Dangerous. Certain. "And now, I'll have time to prove it."
Ella looked at the contract. At him. At the pen.
This was madness. Selling herself. Becoming his property.
But her mother would live.
She signed.
Quickly. Before she could change her mind.
Alexander's expression softened into triumph.
He signed beside her name.
"Done," he murmured. "You're mine now. Officially. Legally. Completely."
Her voice cracked. "What have I done?"
"Saved your mother. Secured your future. And accepted the truth."
He took out his phone, tapped the screen. "Check your account."
She did.
Her breath caught. Ten million dollars. Real. Immediate.
"Pack your things tonight," he said. "You move in tomorrow. Car arrives at eight."
"Move in—"
"It's part of the contract." His smile was dark, devastating. "I keep what's mine close. Very close."
He unlocked the door.
"You're free to leave," he said quietly. "For tonight. Your last night of freedom."
Ella stood. Somehow walked to the door.
At the threshold, she looked back.
"I'll never love you."
His smile was beautiful—and terrifying.
"We'll see," he whispered. "We have a whole year to find out."