Chapter 2:
Elara didn't sleep that night.
The contract lay open on her small kitchen table, its pages untouched but heavy, as though the decision had already been made for her. Every sentence felt cold, precise, leaving no room for emotion — as if emotions were liabilities neither of them could afford.
By morning, her eyes burned from exhaustion.
When she arrived at the address Adrian had sent, she froze for a moment outside the building. It was tall, modern, intimidating — nothing like the life she knew. The kind of place people like her were never meant to enter.
Inside, everything was quiet. Too quiet.
Adrian was already there, standing near the window, his posture calm, unreadable. He turned when he heard her footsteps.
"You came," he said.
"I haven't agreed," Elara replied, clutching her bag tightly.
"I know."
They sat across from each other again, this time separated by a polished table instead of a café window. Adrian opened a folder identical to the one she'd seen before.
"Let's be clear," he said. "This marriage will be in name only."
Elara nodded. "No emotions."
"No expectations," he added. "We live separately. Public appearances only when necessary."
"And intimacy?" she asked, forcing herself to meet his gaze.
Adrian didn't hesitate. "None."
The relief surprised her.
"One year," he continued. "After that, the contract ends. You receive full compensation."
Elara exhaled slowly. "And if I break it?"
"Then it ends immediately," he said. "With consequences."
She swallowed.
"This isn't a prison," Adrian said quietly. "But it is an agreement."
Silence settled between them.
Finally, Elara reached for the pen.
"I'll do it," she said, her voice shaking just enough to betray her fear. "But I won't lose myself in the process."
A flicker crossed Adrian's eyes — something unreadable.
"That," he said, "is entirely up to you."
She signed.
And just like that, her life shifted — not with love, not with hope — but with ink.