The contract was heavier than it looked.
Aaliyah sat frozen on the sofa, the tablet balanced on her knees, her eyes skimming words that refused to settle into meaning. Clause after clause scrolled past—clean, precise language that turned her life into bullet points and obligations.
Duration: Two years.
Residence: Blackwood Penthouse.
Public Conduct: Affectionate, supportive, exclusive.
Confidentiality: Absolute.
Termination: At Rowan Blackwood's discretion.
Her throat tightened.
"This is… a lot," Aaliyah said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rowan leaned back, completely at ease. "It's thorough," she corrected. "Not cruel."
Aaliyah almost laughed at that.
She reached the final page and stopped. Her finger hovered over the signature line, trembling.
"If I sign this," Aaliyah said slowly, "my life won't be mine anymore."
Rowan's gaze didn't soften. "Your life already isn't," she replied. "You're just choosing who controls the outcome."
The truth of it hit hard.
Aaliyah closed her eyes.
She thought of the cracked ceiling in her apartment. The unpaid bills stacked on the kitchen counter. The way the nurse had looked at her earlier—sympathetic, resigned. Like someone already preparing for the worst.
She opened her eyes again.
"What about my school?" she asked. "My job?"
"You'll quit," Rowan said calmly. "I'll arrange private tutoring if you want to continue your degree. Financially, you won't need to work."
Aaliyah flinched at how easily Rowan erased her independence.
"And my friends?" she pressed.
"You'll see them less," Rowan replied. "Your time will be accounted for."
Accounted for.
Aaliyah swallowed.
"And if I break a rule?"
Rowan's expression hardened, the air shifting subtly around her. "Then the contract dissolves," she said. "And so does my protection."
Fear crawled up Aaliyah's spine.
This wasn't just a deal. It was a leash.
She looked down at the signature line again.
Her hand shook as she signed.
The moment her name appeared on the screen, something inside her snapped quietly, like a thread pulled too tight.
Rowan took the tablet back, reviewing it briefly before nodding. "Good."
Just like that.
She stood and pressed a button on the wall. A soft chime echoed through the penthouse.
"Your room is prepared," Rowan said. "You'll move in tonight."
"Tonight?" Aaliyah echoed.
"Yes."
"I—I didn't bring anything."
"You won't need much," Rowan replied. "Clothes will be delivered tomorrow. Essentials are already taken care of."
Aaliyah rose slowly, her legs unsteady. "Can I at least see my mother first?"
Rowan paused.
"You have one hour," she said. "After that, this arrangement becomes public."
Public.
The word sent a fresh wave of panic through Aaliyah.
She nodded quickly. "Thank you."
Rowan studied her for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then she stepped aside.
The elevator ride down felt longer this time.
By the time Aaliyah reached the hospital, her heart was racing again. She rushed through the corridors, ignoring curious glances, until she reached her mother's room.
Naomi Moore lay asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily. Color had returned to her cheeks, just slightly.
Aaliyah sank into the chair beside the bed, pressing her forehead against her mother's hand.
"I fixed it," she whispered. "You're going to be okay."
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: Charges withdrawn. Treatment approved.
Aaliyah let out a shaky breath, tears finally spilling over.
It worked.
The deal worked.
But as she sat there, holding her mother's hand, the weight of what she had just agreed to settled heavily on her chest.
Somewhere above the city, Rowan Blackwood was waiting.
And Aaliyah had a terrible feeling
This was only the beginning.
Aaliyah left the hospital just before midnight.
The city felt different now—sharper, louder, unforgiving. Every step toward the waiting car outside felt like a step away from the life she used to know. A black sedan idled at the curb, its windows tinted so dark she couldn't see inside.
The driver stepped out immediately. "Ms. Moore."
She hesitated for half a second before nodding and getting in.
The door shut with a solid, final sound.
As the car pulled away, Aaliyah pressed her forehead to the window, watching the hospital disappear behind them. Her mother was safe. That was what mattered. She repeated it in her head like a prayer.
She's safe. She's alive.
Blackwood Tower loomed ahead once again, its lights cutting through the night sky. This time, Aaliyah didn't pause at the entrance. She walked inside because there was nowhere else to go.
The elevator carried her upward in silence.
When the doors opened, Rowan was already waiting.
She stood near the windows again, jacket gone, sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal strong forearms. The city lights reflected faintly in her eyes, making them look colder than before.
"You're back," Rowan said.
"Yes."
"You saw your mother."
Aaliyah nodded. "The charges were withdrawn."
"As agreed," Rowan replied.
Aaliyah shifted her weight. "She's stable. For now."
Rowan inclined her head once, as if acknowledging a completed transaction. "Good."
That single word hurt more than Aaliyah expected.
Rowan pressed another button on the wall. A hallway lit up, leading deeper into the penthouse. "Your room is the third door on the left. Bathroom included. Closet stocked with basics."
Aaliyah swallowed. "And… your room?"
Rowan didn't look at her. "Down the hall. Separate."
Relief flickered through Aaliyah's chest before she could stop it.
"This arrangement doesn't include intimacy unless required publicly," Rowan continued coolly. "You'll sleep alone."
Alone.
Aaliyah nodded quickly. "Understood."
Rowan finally turned to face her fully. "Tomorrow morning, you'll meet my stylist. At noon, my legal team will brief you. By evening, we attend a charity gala."
Aaliyah's eyes widened. "Tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"I've never—" She stopped herself, embarrassed. "I don't know how to do this."
Rowan studied her for a long moment. Then she said, "You'll learn."
The finality in her voice left no room for doubt.
Aaliyah walked down the hallway on unsteady legs and pushed open her bedroom door.
The room was beautiful in a way that felt impersonal—soft lighting, pristine sheets, carefully arranged pillows. It looked like a place meant for guests, not someone who planned to stay.
She sat on the edge of the bed and finally let herself breathe.
This was real.
Her phone buzzed again.
Maya: Where are you? I've been calling you all night.
Aaliyah stared at the screen, her chest tightening. Her best friend. The one person who knew everything—except this.
She typed, erased, typed again.
Aaliyah: I'm okay. I'll explain soon. I promise.
She turned the phone face down before the guilt could swallow her whole.
After a shower she barely remembered taking, Aaliyah changed into one of the soft cotton sleepwear sets laid out for her. She climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, listening to the unfamiliar quiet of luxury.
Somewhere beyond the walls, Rowan Blackwood moved through the same space like a queen in her castle.
Aaliyah closed her eyes, exhaustion finally dragging her under.
She didn't know how long she slept.
But she woke suddenly to the sound of her bedroom door opening.
Her heart slammed against her ribs as she bolted upright, the room dim and unfamiliar.
Rowan stood just inside the doorway.
"I forgot to mention one thing," Rowan said quietly.
Aaliyah's voice trembled. "What?"
Rowan's gaze swept over her—barefoot, vulnerable, very much out of place.
"From tonight onward," Rowan said, "every move you make reflects on me."
She stepped closer, stopping at the foot of the bed.
"And mistakes," she added softly, "have consequences."
The door closed behind her.
Aaliyah lay frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears, as one terrifying truth settled in
This wasn't just a contract.
It was a cage.
The door clicked shut.
The sound was soft, barely there but it echoed inside Aaliyah's chest like a gunshot.
She lay still for several seconds, her body locked in place, listening for footsteps that never came. The penthouse settled into silence again, thick and oppressive. Only when her pulse slowed slightly did she allow herself to breathe.
It's just a warning, she told herself. Nothing more.
But the way Rowan had looked at her cool, assessing, unmoved by her fear, said otherwise.
Aaliyah rolled onto her side and curled in on herself, pulling the covers up to her chin like a shield. Sleep didn't come easily after that. Every small sound made her flinch. Every shadow on the wall felt like it was watching her.
When morning finally arrived, it did so without warmth.
Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, pale and distant. Aaliyah woke with a dull ache behind her eyes and the heavy realization that there was no rushing back to her old life, no pretending last night hadn't happened.
She was inside Rowan Blackwood's world now.
A soft knock sounded at her door.
"Aaliyah?" a woman's voice called. "May I come in?"
She pushed herself upright. "Yes."
The door opened to reveal a woman in her forties, impeccably dressed, tablet in hand. Her smile was professional, practiced.
"I'm Elise," she said. "I handle scheduling and household coordination. Welcome."
Welcome.
The word felt wrong.
Elise stepped inside and glanced around briefly, as if cataloging Aaliyah along with the furniture. "Breakfast will be served in the dining area in twenty minutes. After that, you have fittings and briefings."
Aaliyah nodded. "Okay."
Elise hesitated, then softened her tone just slightly. "If you have questions, ask them. It's easier to learn the rules quickly."
Rules.
Aaliyah waited until she was alone again before dressing. The clothes laid out for her were tasteful and neutral—soft trousers, a cream blouse, flats that fit perfectly. Someone had measured her without her knowing.
She followed the hallway to the dining area, her steps tentative.
Rowan was already there.
She sat at the long table, tablet in hand, coffee untouched beside her. She didn't look up immediately, and Aaliyah hovered awkwardly until Rowan finally lifted her gaze.
"Sit," Rowan said.
Again, not a request.
Aaliyah took the chair opposite her, keeping her hands folded in her lap.
"Did you sleep?" Rowan asked.
"Yes," Aaliyah lied.
Rowan's eyes lingered on her for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "Good."
Breakfast arrived quietly—fresh fruit, eggs, toast, things Aaliyah usually only saw in magazines. She picked at her plate, her appetite nonexistent.
Rowan spoke again. "You'll be photographed tonight. You'll smile. You'll stay close to me."
Aaliyah nodded. "What if they ask questions?"
"They will," Rowan said. "You'll say we met through mutual connections. That we value privacy. That you admire my work."
"And… us?" Aaliyah asked carefully.
Rowan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "You'll let me handle that."
The silence that followed was thick, weighted with unspoken boundaries.
After breakfast, everything blurred together—stylists, fittings, legal explanations delivered in crisp voices that left no room for emotion. Aaliyah nodded when expected, smiled when told, signed where indicated.
By late afternoon, her head ached.
She found herself alone again in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at her phone. A message from Maya still waited unanswered.
Her finger hovered over the screen.
She couldn't tell her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
A knock came at her door—lighter this time.
"Yes?" she called.
Rowan stepped in.
She looked different now—tailored suit replaced by a sleek black dress, hair styled back, confidence sharpened like a blade. She was breathtaking in a way that made Aaliyah's chest tighten painfully.
"We're leaving in ten minutes," Rowan said. Then, after a pause, "You're doing fine."
The words surprised her.
"Thank you," Aaliyah said softly.
Rowan's gaze lingered, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. Then she turned and walked away.
Aaliyah exhaled slowly.
She followed Rowan out of the penthouse and into the waiting car, her reflection staring back at her from the darkened window. She looked composed. Elegant.
She didn't look like someone who had signed her freedom away.
As the car pulled into traffic, flashes of cameras exploded outside, bright and relentless.
Rowan's hand settled briefly on Aaliyah's knee.
"Remember," she murmured without looking at her, "stay close."
Aaliyah nodded, forcing a smile as the world pressed in around them.
Inside, fear coiled tighter.
Because she was starting to understand something terrifying
Rowan Blackwood wasn't the most dangerous part of this deal.
It was how easy it would be to lose herself trying to survive it.