Purchased Vows

Chapter 8: The Pressure

The new contract was signed a week later.

Three million dollars. Full custody. Marcus would sign away all parental rights. And I would stay until the baby was born, then disappear forever.

It should have felt like a victory. Like freedom. But as I signed my name on the dotted line, all I felt was empty.

"Congratulations," Marcus's lawyer said, his voice neutral. "You're a very wealthy woman, Mrs. Sterling."

Mrs. Sterling. The name felt like a mockery now. I wasn't really his wife. I was a contract. A transaction. And soon, I'd be nothing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice flat.

Marcus didn't look at me. Just signed his own name, his movements sharp, almost angry. When he was done, he stood and left without a word, leaving me alone with his lawyer.

"Mrs. Sterling," the lawyer said, his voice gentle. "I know this is difficult. But you've made the right choice. For yourself. For your child."

"Have I?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Because it doesn't feel like a choice. It feels like... giving up."

"You're not giving up. You're moving forward. You're building a new life. A better life."

I nodded, but I didn't believe it. Because a better life would have included Marcus. Would have included a real family. But that was never going to happen.

I thought that would be the end of it. That I could hide in my room, wait for the baby to be born, and then disappear. But life had other plans.

Two weeks after signing the new contract, I was at a doctor's appointment. A routine checkup, nothing special. But as I sat in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine, I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.

"Olivia?"

I looked up, and there she was. Victoria Sterling. Marcus's mother. Standing in the doorway of the doctor's office, her expression shocked, then calculating.

"Mrs. Sterling," I said, my voice shaky. "What are you doing here?"

"I have an appointment." Her eyes swept over me, taking in my slightly rounded stomach, the way I was holding myself. "But more importantly, what are you doing here? At an obstetrician's office?"

I froze. I couldn't lie. Not when it was so obvious.

"I'm... I'm pregnant," I said, my voice small.

Her expression changed, from shock to something else. Something that looked like... satisfaction.

"Pregnant." The word hung in the air. "How interesting. And Marcus knows about this?"

"Yes. He knows."

"And he's... happy about it?"

I didn't answer. Couldn't answer. Because the truth was, he wasn't happy. He wanted me gone. He wanted to pretend this never happened.

But Victoria didn't need me to answer. She could see it in my face. The pain. The truth.

"I see," she said, her voice cold. "Well, this changes things, doesn't it? A Sterling heir. A real heir. Not a fake marriage, but a real child."

"Mrs. Sterling—"

"Don't worry, dear." Her smile was sharp, predatory. "I'll take care of this. I'll make sure everything is handled properly."

Before I could respond, she turned and left, her heels clicking on the tile floor. And I knew, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, that everything was about to get much, much worse.

That evening, Marcus came home early. I heard his footsteps on the stairs, heard him coming toward my room. When he knocked, his voice was tight, angry.

"Olivia. We need to talk."

I opened the door, and he pushed past me, his expression dark.

"My mother called," he said, his voice sharp. "She saw you at the doctor's office. She knows you're pregnant."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant. What matters is that she knows. And now my father knows. And they're not happy."

"What do you mean?"

"They think this is a ploy. A way to trap me. To get more money. To stay in my life permanently." He moved closer, and I saw the anger in his eyes. "They think you're trying to use this baby to control me."

"I'm not—"

"I know you're not. But they don't. And they're going to make this difficult. They're going to try to take control. To make decisions about this baby. About you."

"What kind of decisions?"

"They'll want a paternity test. They'll want to be involved. They'll want to control everything. And if I don't cooperate, they'll use it against me. They'll use it to take away everything I've built."

I sank onto the bed, my hands shaking. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to do nothing." His voice was hard. "You're going to stay out of their way. You're going to avoid them. And when the baby is born, you're going to disappear, just like we planned."

"But what if they try to stop me? What if they try to take the baby?"

"They can't. The contract is signed. You have full custody. They have no legal right to the child."

"But they have money. They have power. They can make things difficult."

"They can try." He moved closer, and I saw something in his expression—protectiveness, maybe. "But I won't let them. I'll protect you. I'll protect the baby. Even if it means going against my family."

The words surprised me. "You'd do that? You'd go against your family for me?"

"Not for you." His voice was sharp. "For the baby. For my child. Even if I don't want to be a father, I won't let them use this child as a weapon. I won't let them control it."

It wasn't what I wanted to hear. But it was something. It was a promise. A commitment.

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft.

"Don't thank me. Just stay out of their way. And when this is over, disappear. That's all I ask."

He left, and I sat there, my hands on my stomach, feeling the baby move for the first time. A flutter. A kick. A reminder that this was real. That this was happening.

The next day, the pressure started.

First, it was phone calls. Victoria calling, asking to meet. Asking to discuss "the situation." I ignored them, but they kept coming.

Then it was visits. She showed up at the house, unannounced, demanding to see me. Mrs. Henderson tried to turn her away, but Victoria was persistent.

"Olivia," she said, when she finally cornered me in the hallway. "We need to talk. About the baby. About your future."

"There's nothing to talk about," I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart. "The situation is handled. Marcus and I have an agreement."

"An agreement?" Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of agreement?"

"That's between Marcus and me."

"Not anymore." She moved closer, her expression hard. "Because this baby is a Sterling. And that means it's my grandchild. My family's future. And I won't let you just... disappear with it."

"I have full custody. Legally, you have no say."

"Legally, maybe. But there are other ways to get what I want. Ways that don't involve lawyers or courts."

The threat was clear. And I felt my stomach drop.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that if you want to keep this child, if you want to raise it, then you'll do it on my terms. You'll stay. You'll be a real wife to Marcus. And you'll raise this child as a Sterling."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll make your life very difficult. I'll make sure you never get a moment's peace. I'll make sure you regret ever coming into our lives."

I backed away, my hands shaking. "You can't do that."

"Watch me." She smiled, but it was cold. "I've been playing this game longer than you've been alive, dear. And I always win."

She left, and I sank against the wall, my legs shaking. This was worse than I'd imagined. Much worse.

That evening, when Marcus came home, I told him everything. About Victoria's threats. About her demands. About the pressure.

He listened, his expression dark, and when I was done, he was quiet for a long time.

"She can't do anything," he said finally, his voice tight. "She's bluffing. Trying to scare you."

"But what if she's not? What if she really can make things difficult?"

"Then we'll deal with it. Together." He moved closer, and I saw something in his eyes—determination, maybe. "I won't let her hurt you. I won't let her take the baby. I promise."

The words should have been comforting. But they weren't. Because I knew that promises could be broken. That people could change their minds. That family could be more powerful than any contract.

And as I watched him leave, I realized something that made my heart ache:

I was in deeper than I'd ever imagined.

And there was no way out.