Chapter 6 : ”One Signature”
632 Words
Sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the east wing.
Ariana had barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the photograph from the warehouse.
The rain.
The blood.
The man lying on the floor.
And Damien’s voice.
“I know what happened five years ago.”
A knock came at the door.
“Miss Brooks?”
Edwin’s gentle voice echoed from the hallway.
“Mr. Moretti requests your presence in the dining room.”
⸻
The dining room was impossibly large.
A table meant for twenty people held breakfast for only two.
Damien sat at one end, reading the morning newspaper.
Without looking up, he said,
“Good morning.”
Ariana remained standing.
“I didn’t come here for breakfast.”
“I know.”
“You want an answer.”
He folded the newspaper with practiced precision.
“I do.”
⸻
She took a deep breath.
“I have questions.”
“You’ll have answers.”
“When?”
“When you’ve earned my trust.”
She scoffed.
“So you expect me to marry a stranger?”
Damien looked at her steadily.
“No.”
“I expect you to marry a man you’re determined to understand.”
Before Ariana could respond, Edwin entered carrying a leather folder.
He placed it between them.
“The revised agreement, sir.”
Damien slid it across the table.
“I made changes.”
She opened it cautiously.
Her eyes widened.
The first page read:
Marriage Contract
Clause 1:
Ariana Brooks may end the agreement after one year without penalty.
Clause 2:
She will remain financially independent.
Clause 3:
She may continue any career or education she chooses.
Clause 4:
Mr. Damien Moretti will never control her personal decisions outside the agreement.
Ariana looked up in surprise.
“You changed these…”
“You needed proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That I don’t want a prisoner.”
For the first time since meeting him…
She didn’t know what to say.
⸻
Then Damien reached into his jacket.
He placed a small velvet box on the table.
Her heart skipped.
“I’m not proposing.”
He almost sounded amused.
She opened the box.
Inside were two simple platinum wedding bands.
No diamonds.
No elaborate designs.
Just elegant, matching rings.
“My parents wore rings like these,” Damien said quietly.
“They believed marriage was built on promises…”
“…not jewelry.”
Something about the way he said it made Ariana wonder what had happened to them.
But she didn’t ask.
Not yet.
⸻
A sharp knock interrupted the moment.
Marco entered without waiting for permission.
“Sorry to interrupt…”
His expression turned serious when he saw Ariana.
“Sir.”
Damien stood.
“What is it?”
Marco handed him a sealed envelope.
Damien opened it.
His face remained calm.
Too calm.
“What happened?” Ariana asked.
He looked at her.
“The person who sent this knows you’re here.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“Who?”
Damien folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket.
“They left one message.”
He hesitated.
Then repeated it word for word.
‘This time… I’ll finish what I started five years ago.’
Silence.
The room suddenly felt much colder.
Damien turned to Ariana.
His voice was steady.
“You asked why I wanted you to marry me.”
He held out a pen.
“This…”
“…is why.”
Ariana stared at the contract.
Then at Damien.
Then at the rain beginning to fall outside the window.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the pen.
The ink touched the paper.
She signed her name.
Damien watched quietly.
For the first time in five years…
He allowed himself to breathe.
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