LOVE ON CONTRACT

Chapter 2: The Contract Rules

"Congratulations, Mrs. Beaumont."

The words tasted like poison in my mouth.

Thunder walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office.

The Makati skyline was behind him. All glass and steel and power.

He looked like he owned the whole city.

Probably because he did.

He hadn't looked at me since I signed the contract 10 minutes ago.

Like I was already part of the furniture.

"Let’s get one thing straight," he said without turning around.

His voice bounced off the glass. Cold. Final.

"This marriage is business. Nothing more."

I clutched my bag tighter. The leather strap dug into my palm.

Palaban ako. Hindi ako matatakot.

Not to him. Not to anyone.

"Then give me the rules," I said.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "Para alam ko kung ano yung lalaruin ko."

Finally, he turned.

His cold eyes met mine. Dark. Assessing.

Like he was surprised I talked back.

Most people probably just nodded and left.

He pulled out a black folder from his desk drawer and slid it across the table.

It stopped right in front of me. Thick. Heavy.

"Rule #1: We appear as a happy couple in public. Events, family dinners, press."

I nodded. Fake smile. I can do that. I’ve been faking it for years.

"Rule #2: You live in my penthouse. Your own room. Do not enter mine."

Noted. I don't want to anyway.

"Rule #3: No PDA. No holding hands unless cameras are around."

Good. I don't like being touched.

"Rule #4: You don't ask about my work. You don't ask about my past."

Fair. I have my own secrets too.

"Rule #5: No feelings. No dating. No falling in love."

I flipped through the pages. Ten rules total.

All of them printed on thick bond paper.

All of them designed to keep me at arm's length.

Rule #6: No friends from my side in the penthouse.

Rule #7: I answer his calls within 3 rings.

Rule #8: I wear what the stylist picks.

Rule #9: No social media posts without approval.

Rule #10: The contract can be terminated anytime. By him.

He was thorough. I'll give him that.

"And what do I get?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

I closed the folder. Met his eyes head on.

"Aside from the 5 million for my father?"

For the first time since I walked in, his mask cracked.

Just a little.

His jaw tightened. His eyes flickered.

"You get protection," he said quietly.

So quiet I almost missed it.

"From your debt collectors. From your past. From me."

Something in my chest twisted.

He thinks I’m the one who needs protection from him.

He walked closer. Each step was silent on the marble floor.

He stopped in front of the table. Towering over me.

I had to tilt my head up to look at him.

His cologne was expensive. Clean. And dangerous.

It made my head spin.

"Sign the NDA too," he said.

He pushed another paper across the table with one finger.

"Break any rule, and the contract ends. No money.

And you pay back everything the hospital already received."

My stomach dropped.

So this was the trap.

One mistake and Papa dies.

I stared at the pen beside the NDA. Black. Expensive.

Then at him.

Thunder Beaumont thought he could control me with rules and threats.

He thought fear would make me obedient.

He had no idea who he was dealing with.

I’ve been fighting since I was 16.

Fighting to pay bills. Fighting to keep Papa alive.

Fighting to not become like Mama who walked out.

I picked up the pen. My hand didn’t shake this time.

For Papa.

For my family.

But also… to prove that Sophia Crownwille doesn't break.

Not even for a cold-hearted CEO.

I signed. Sophia Crownwille.

The ink was permanent.

"Deal," I said. I pushed the papers back to him.

"One year."

He picked up the contract. Read my signature.

Then he nodded once. Sharp. Businesslike.

"Driver will take you to the penthouse tonight. 8PM."

He pressed a button on his desk. "Pack a bag. Nothing else."

"And Sophia?" He looked up from the papers.

"Yes?"

"Welcome to hell."

He smirked. Just the corner of his mouth.

Then he turned back to his window. Dismissed.

I was left standing there, holding a copy of the contract

that just sold my freedom for 5 million pesos.

The elevator ride down felt longer than the one going up.

My phone buzzed. A text from the hospital:

PAYMENT SCHEDULED. SURGERY IN 3 DAYS.

I exhaled. One problem solved.

Another one just began.

Outside, the Makati heat hit me like a wall.

The driver was already waiting. Holding a sign with my name.

As I got in the car, I looked up at the 50th floor.

At his office window.

I couldn't see him.

But I knew he was watching.

The worst part?

Part of me was excited to fight him.