Midnight. Velletto Tower, 79th Floor.
Rain lashed against the glass walls, the city lights bleeding into streaks of gold and crimson. The world below looked small. Powerless. Just the way Adrian Velletto liked it.
He sat behind a long glass desk, his suit jacket discarded, black shirt sleeves rolled, tie loosened like he'd just walked out of a war he clearly won. His lips held the ghost of a smirk—beautiful and terrifying.
Across from him stood Elara Grey, soaked from the rain, clutching the edge of the contract like it was a blade.
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"Why me?"
Adrian didn't look up immediately. He tapped a silver lighter against the desk—click… click… click, a slow rhythm that matched the thunder outside.
"Because," he said finally, eyes lifting—obsidian, unreadable, "you have nothing left to lose."
Her jaw tightened, but she didn't deny it.
"And what do you gain from this marriage?" she asked.
He leaned back in the leather chair, gaze never leaving hers.
"A wife."
The simplicity of the answer made her chest tighten. It didn't feel like an answer. It felt like a trap lined with silk.
"You don't need a wife," she murmured.
"Everyone needs something," Adrian replied softly.
Then he leaned forward, elbows on the desk.
"Sign it, Elara."
The pen lay there between them. Silver. Elegant. Heavy with fate.
Her fingertips hovered over it. And for a moment—just a fraction of a heartbeat—her vision blurred.
⟡ Flashes.
A dark ballroom.
Blood on marble.
A masked man bleeding out, reaching for her hand.
His voice… the same voice.
"Find me again."
Elara's breath caught.
Adrian watched her reaction closely.
"You feel it too, don't you?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
She froze.
"What…?"
"That strange pull between us." His eyes darkened. "Like we've met before."
Something ancient and unnamed stirred in her chest.
Before she could speak, Adrian stood, walked around the desk, and stopped so close she could feel the heat of him, smell his cologne — dark cedar and danger.
He placed the pen gently between her fingers.
"This is not just a contract, Elara." His gaze locked on hers.
"This is your last chance."
Thunder roared like the sky itself signed the deal before she did.
Elara Grey pressed the pen to paper.
Signature stroke.
Ink met destiny.