"Read it correctly."
Clara's fingers trembled as she brought the contract closer to the light.
The words swam at first, then crystallized into something much more fearsome.
Clause Seventeen:
The wife under contract is liable for the full finances of any early dissolution of this marriage by the contracted wife, including but not limited to medical expenses, housing, and legal protection.
She gasped painfully as she swallowed.
"That's not what you said," she murmured.
Dylan was standing at ease on the other side of the desk. "That's what the contract says."
"You told me the marriage would end clean after a year," Clara hissed.
"And it does," he said with quiet confidence. "If you finish it."
Her heart pounded.
"So if I leave early—"
"You pay everything back."
The office was suddenly too small.
"That's not possible," she said. "I would never be able to pay that."
"That's the point."
Her head snapped up. "You trapped me."
Dylan's eyes hardened slightly. "I guaranteed your rate,"
Clara laughed, sharp and bitter. "Is this what you call commitment? This is extortion."
He didn't contradict her.
"You would've walked away," he said evenly. "People like you always do when it gets uncomfortable."
"That's not the case,"
"Isn't it? " he whispered "You were already getting out."
Her chest tightened because he was right.
She had been.
"You had no right," now shaking, "You knew I was desperate."
"Yes."
The candidness amazed her.
"You knew about my mother," Clara added. "You knew I didn't have a choice."
Dylan moved in closer. "And that's why this works."
Obviously she had tears in her eyes but she would not allow them to fall.
"I'm not your possession," she said.
"No," he answered. "You're my wife."
The word hit more forcefully than she anticipated.
There was a long silence between them.
At last she breathed, "When do I move in?"
"Tonight." "Tonight."
Her stomach did pirouettes. "I need to pack."
"You don't get to go back to that apartment," Dylan stated. "We'll give you everything you need."
"That's not what I ordered," she barked.
He looked at her for a few seconds, then gave a single nod. "You have one hour."
An hour to say goodbye to her life.
The apartment held the smell of old books and instant noodles.
Clara worked rapidly, her hands trembling as she shoved clothes into her suitcase. Each piece was like evidence of who she had been.
Normal. Free. Invisible.
Her phone buzzed.
Mom.
She froze.
"Hi," Clara said, her voice shakily trying to be steady.
Did you talk to him?" her mother asked weakly.
"Yes," Clara replied. "Everything is… handled."
Pause. "You sound tired."
"I'm just busy. "
"You don't have to do this for me," her mother said quietly.
Clara pressed her lips together.
"I already did," she whispered.
When the call ended, Clara sat on the side of the bed and looked at the walls.
That was the end.
There was a knock on the door.
She jumped.
Outside stood a man in a dark suit. "Mr. Monroe sent me."
Of course he did.
The penthouse grew still at night.
Too quiet.
Clara was standing in the enormous living room as a housekeeper led her on a tour.
"This is your room, Mrs. Monroe."
Mrs. Monroe. .
The words seemed unreal. "
The room was bigger than her whole apartment. Neutral colors. A king-sized bed she wasn't sure she deserved.
"It's very soon that dinner will be served," the housekeeper said, going.
Suddenly exhausted, Clara sat on the edge of the bed.
She had barely processed it all when a knock rattled through the room.
Dylan came in without being asked.
"You settled in," he said.
"Yes."
"You have to go to a charity gala tomorrow night," he said. "This is important."
Her eyes went wide. "Tomorrow ?"
"Now you're my wife. There's no adjustment period."
She stood. "I have no idea how to behave in your world."
"You'll learn."
"That's not comforting."
Dylan's gaze lingered on her face. "There is only one thing you need to remember."
"What?"
"Don't ever embarrassed me, And if you do embarrass me…"
Her jaw tightened. "And what if you embarrass me?"
A flicker of something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
"That won't happen." (he said)
She hesitated. "And… the rules?"
He withdrew a black folder from beneath his arm and set it on the table.
"Read them."
Clara peeked it slowly.
No emotional ties.
Nothing to do with my personal life.
Stand by me when I ask.
Sleep in your own room unless you get other orders.
She snapped her head up. "Unless directed?"
"For the looks."
Her cheeks turned red. "You just love reminding me how little I can control."
"I like things to be clear," he said.
She flipped to the last page.
Her heart sank.
"You want me to pretend I love you?" she breathed.
"In public," Dylan said. "Make it believable."
"And if I can't?"
He came closer, his voice softening.
"Before this contract helps you, it'll destroy you."
Her breath quavered.
Before she could react, her phone rang.
He answered without hesitation.
"Yes?"
A pause.
His jaw clenched.
I got this," he said, and then hung up.
"What is it?" Clara inquired.
Dylan's gaze turned dark as he stared at her.
"My parents just found out I got married."
Her heart skipped. "That's bad?"
"They're coming tomorrow," he said. "To meet you."
She was chilled to the bone.
"All of them."