Elena followed Alexander into his penthouse, her heels clicking nervously on the marble floor. The elevator ride was silent, the air thick with tension. Every fiber of her body screamed that she should run, but she couldn't. Her family's faces echoed in her mind—hungry, desperate, helpless.
When the doors opened, Alexander didn't lead her with a hand extended or a polite smile. He walked ahead, confident, measured, leaving her to follow. The apartment was enormous, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows showing the city lights like a river of gold below. Everything about him screamed power—and danger.
"You'll stay in the guest wing," he said finally, not looking back. "Rules are simple. One year. You don't interfere with my life. I don't interfere with yours."
Elena swallowed, nodding. Words felt useless in the presence of a man who seemed untouchable. Yet, in that silence, she felt the weight of his gaze, even though he pretended not to look.
"I—I understand," she managed to whisper.
Alexander's lips curved slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Good. I expect compliance, Elena. Not gratitude."
The words stung, yet there was a strange… respect in his tone, something she couldn't decipher. She glanced around the lavish apartment—no photos of family, no personal touches—just cold elegance, like a museum dedicated to himself.
"I—uh… may I ask something?" Elena's voice trembled, but she forced it out. "Why me?"
He stopped and finally turned, his expression unreadable. "Why you?" he repeated, voice low. "Because you were the one standing at the edge. And I never let opportunities like this slip away."
The ambiguity of his words left her unsettled. Was it cruel chance or something more calculated? She didn't have the answer, and she wasn't sure she wanted to ask again.
Alexander handed her a keycard. "Your room. You'll find everything you need. Breakfast is at seven. Don't leave the penthouse unless necessary. Understood?"
"Yes, sir," she said, her throat dry.
He nodded once, then turned toward the study, disappearing into the shadows of the apartment. Elena exhaled slowly, sinking onto the edge of the king-size bed. Her life had changed irrevocably in a single day, and she was only just beginning to realize it.
A soft knock at the door startled her. A maid entered, carrying a tray of essentials—clothes, toiletries, a note. Elena unfolded the note with trembling hands:
"Do not underestimate him. Obey the rules. He watches more than you think."
Her stomach twisted. The warning wasn't from Alexander—it was from someone else, someone who knew him. She had no idea who.
For the first time, Elena understood something chilling: this was not just a contract marriage. She had stepped into a world of power, secrets, and obsession—one she might never escape.
And Alexander… he was watching, silently, patiently, calculating every move she made.
Who sent the warning note?
Why is Alexander so calculating?
What secrets does he hide about Elena's family?