MARRIAGE UNDER CONTRACT

THE DEAL

Samantha’s POV

I never dreamed my life would turn out—a marriage contract signed under pressure, bound me to a guy whose authority terrified me. Perched in Blackwood Tower's gleaming lobby, I hold the battered handbag strap as though it were the only solid object in my life. The hum of vital conversations around me feels alien, like a language I cannot know as the chilly air from outside sweeps through the rotating doors. These are folks that belong here. I fail to.

My eyes fly to the elegant, polished elevators at the end of the corridor; their metallic sheen simply causes my palms to perspire more. This place screams riches, power, dominance everywhere. Every instinct I have drives me to dash to grab Ethan and vanish. But there is nowhere left to go. There are less places to hide. First and foremost is my son's protection; this deal—this cold, lifeless transaction—is my only choice. Ethan specifically. Constant for Ethan.

I inhale deeply, the contraction in my thoughts like a distorted echo echoing back. Adrian used sharp, precisely unambiguous language. This is not a marriage in any sense, not one motivated by even convenience or affection. It's a bargain, a smart business move, and right now I'm simply a component of the puzzle in Adrian Blackwood's great plan.

"Samantha Dawson?" asked One voice piercing and exact breaks through my ideas.

I search and find a tall woman with a fitting black dress whose features match her tone. Mr. Blackwood is ready for you.

My voice won't cooperate, so I nod, and my throat feels dry. Expecting me to follow, the woman turns without another word and I follow, feeling as though I am being guided toward my execution. The pit in my gut gets deeper as the elevator doors slide close with a gentle, mechanical hum. Men like Adrian Blackwood—ruthless, strong, untouchable—have avoided me for years. Now, though, I am going to become his wife in name only and am I walking directly into his den.

The elevator rings gently, and I walk out into a floor to ceiling window corridor. The city extends broad and apathetic far beyond the window. It seems like the life I used to lead—something far off and unreachable. Life I will never be able to return.

We stop before a large pair of double doors. The woman knocks once, opens them without waiting for a reply. I walk in and my heart thumps in my chest.

Seeing Adrian Blackwood personally is worse than I could have imagined. He is standing behind a slick black desk. He is suffocating; towering, broad, his dark suit fits his shape exactly. His piercing, icy eyes evaluate me with a look that seems to peel away all my defenses. My skin crawls as I can sense the power emanating off him in waves.

"Ms. Dawson," he says, his voice lacking warmth yet silky. " Please, sit."

I made myself move, seated across from him, my fingers gripping the chair's edges as though they might stop my hands from shaking. His eyes again darted over me, evaluating, computing. I detest the way it makes me feel—that I am just a line item in a commercial agreement, a good or service to exchange.

"I assume you've read the contract," he adds, his voice indifferent, nearly bored.

I let out a nod. Absolutely.

"And you grasp what's expected of you?"

Though I find the words stuck in my throat, I can whisper, "Yes."

He sits silently for a lengthy, awkward period while fixated on me. I'm not sure whether he's just savoring his current control over me or whether he's waiting for me to c***k. In either case, it is intolerable.

"Good," he replies at last, sitting down across from me and his face is unreadable. "Then we may go forward."

I try to pay attention and remind myself why I'm here. For Ethan specifically. I am acting for him in all I do. But it is difficult to breathe under the weight of this moment, of the future I am locking myself into.

"You'll move in immediately," Adrian says, his voice assuming a corporate precision. "In our arrangement, appearances are key, hence you should successfully play my wife. Public events, dinners, meetings—you will be at all of them at my side."

I nod once again, more like a puppet with every syllable.

He leans forward slightly and whispers, "I'm not asking for a real marriage," with eyes never leaving mine. Still, I do hope for fidelity. I cannot accept betrayal.

I push myself to nod even though I have a shiver down my back. "I understand."

"Good," said His eyes still stare directly at me, relentless. "We will notify you of the participation next week. You will remain invisible till then.

I nod once more even as my stomach turns around. Then after that?

"After that, Ms. Dawson, you're Mrs. Blackwood." His tone is decisive, therefore eliminating any possibility for debate.

The weight of the contract I signed covers me like a veil as I leave his office. There is no marriage here. One is in a cage. a prison. One I have deliberately entered; there is no escape.

One thing is certain, though: I will do everything to keep Ethan safe—even if it means selling my soul to a man like Adrian Blackwood.

I watched Ethan play later that evening on the floor of our small flat. His laughter fills the little room, naive and pure, totally ignorant of the storm building around us. Thinking about the transaction I just made, the life I have condemned us to, my chest contracts.

How ought I to explain this to him? How do I help him to see that all I have done—for him—has been? He is young enough not to know. Too naive to fully appreciate the costs I have paid to keep him safe.

I force myself to be strong while brushing a tear off my cheek. I picked this path. Not now is there going back.

But the thought bites me when I see him play—what if I have made a horrible mistake? More dangerous than I could possibly grasp is Adrian Blackwood. Walking into his world, I thought I could endure and that I could shield Ethan. But just how long before he discovers the truth? How long before he learns what I have been running from throughout all these years?

For everything I have done will fall apart if he does.

I cannot let that happen.

A harsh knock resounds throughout the flat as I cuddle Ethan into bed. My pulse leaps into my throat. Nobody shows up here at this hour. I slowly, carefully go toward the door and looked through the peephole.

My blood turns chilly.

On the other side of the door sits a man I believed I had left behind. An old man from my past.

And then the bargain I struck with Adrian Blackwood seemed like the least of my concerns.