His contract, her heart

Missy Wolfe stood frozen at the threshold of her childhood home, her gaze locked onto the stark white paper pinned to the weathered wooden door. The bold red letters screamed at her: EVICTION NOTICE. Her heart pounded in her chest, a violent drum against her ribs. The world around her blurred as she reached out with trembling fingers, yanking the paper free. She scanned the lines, though she already knew what it said. "Final notice... failure to make payments... property will be repossessed in seven days." A sharp gust of wind rattled the porch railing, whipping strands of her chestnut hair into her face. Seven days. That was all she had left before the home her parents had left her—the only thing tying her to them—was ripped away. The place where she grew up, where she whispered childhood secrets beneath the stairs, where she had last seen her mother’s smile and her father’s approving nod. It was all about to be gone. Her grip on the paper tightened until the edges crumpled in her fists. She had fought, scraping together what little she could from her job at the flower shop, but it hadn’t been enough. Not against the crushing weight of unpaid property taxes and a predatory bank eager to seize what was left of her past. A horn blared in the distance, snapping her from her spiraling thoughts. She turned slightly, her gaze drifting across the street—and that’s when she saw it. A sleek black car. Parked directly across from her house. Tinted windows concealed whoever was inside, but an unsettling sensation crawled up her spine. She wasn’t alone. Someone was watching her. Missy took a hesitant step back onto the porch, her breath shallow. Coincidence? Maybe. But the car wasn’t from around here. In this quiet, worn-down neighborhood, expensive vehicles stuck out like a sore thumb. And this one had been sitting there too long to be random. She swallowed hard, refusing to let paranoia take hold. With one last glance at the mysterious vehicle, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, locking it behind her. The house was eerily silent. The emptiness pressed in on her, a constant reminder of all she had lost. The living room remained untouched, just as it had been when her parents were alive—the same outdated floral couch, the same wooden coffee table with the scratch from when she knocked over a vase as a child. Everything preserved in time, waiting for people who would never return. Missy set the eviction notice on the table, rubbing her temples. She needed a plan. Options swirled in her mind, but none of them were good. Bernard had offered to help before, but she couldn’t burden him. Loans were out of the question—her credit was a disaster. The only alternative was selling, but even that wouldn’t fetch enough to cover her debts. A dull ache settled in her chest. She was out of choices. Out of time. And still, the black car sat outside, waiting. The scent of fresh roses and lavender filled the tiny flower shop, mingling with the dampness of the early morning rain. Missy Wolfe wiped her hands on her apron, forcing a smile as an elderly woman walked out with a bouquet. The chime above the door rang softly as the door swung shut, leaving her alone with Bernard. “I can help you, Missy.” Bernard’s voice was gentle yet firm. His deep brown eyes were laced with concern, his strong hands resting on the wooden counter. “Just take the money. It’s no big deal.” Missy shook her head, forcing a light chuckle. “I can’t, Bernard. You’ve done enough for me already. I won’t let you throw your savings away because of my mess.” “It’s not throwing it away if it helps you keep your home,” he countered. “You’re being stubborn.” Missy turned her back to him, busying herself with the tulips in front of her. Stubborn was an understatement. She had spent years fighting for independence, refusing to be a burden to anyone. The last thing she wanted was to feel like a charity case. Bernard sighed, running a hand through his dark curls. “You know I don’t mind helping. Hell, I’d do anything for you.” The weight of his words lingered in the air. She glanced at him, his face set with determination. Bernard had been her rock for years, ever since high school. They had weathered heartbreak, loss, and struggle together. But this—this was something she needed to handle alone. “Bernard, I appreciate you, I really do,” she said softly. “But I can’t take your money.” “Then what’s your plan? The bank isn’t going to wait forever, Missy.” She bit her lip, her fingers tightening around the tulip stems. “I’ll figure something out.” Bernard exhaled sharply, clearly frustrated. “You’re impossible.” Before she could respond, the door swung open with a force that sent the chime ringing violently. A tall man in a crisp black suit stepped inside, his expression impassive. His eyes—cold and calculating—landed directly on Missy. Her stomach twisted. “Miss Wolfe,” the man said, his voice as sharp as a blade. “This is for you.” He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly folded envelope, extending it toward her. She hesitated before taking it, her fingers trembling as she peeled it open. Her heart plummeted. FINAL NOTICE. The words screamed at her in bold, unrelenting letters. Her throat tightened as she skimmed the document. One week. That was all she had left. Bernard stepped forward. “Who the hell are you?” The man didn’t even spare him a glance. “Just the messenger.” Missy’s pulse roared in her ears. This wasn’t just a warning—it was the end of the line. She looked up, but before she could ask anything, the man turned and walked out, leaving nothing but the chilling weight of reality settling on her shoulders. Missy tightened her coat around herself as she walked down the bustling New York sidewalk. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of exhaust and the distant aroma of street food. Despite the city’s ever-present noise, an eerie silence pressed against her thoughts. Her mind was still spinning from the final warning letter. The flower shop barely paid enough to cover groceries, let alone an overdue mortgage. How had things come to this? She sighed, shaking off the hopelessness clinging to her like a second skin. Bernard had offered to help, but she couldn’t take his money. She had spent her whole life proving she didn’t need to depend on anyone. That wasn’t going to change now. Then she saw it. Towering above the street, illuminated by soft golden lights, was a massive billboard featuring a man she once knew better than anyone. Damion Wolfe. Her breath hitched. It was an advertisement for a luxury hotel, one of many under his name. He stood in the center, exuding power in a tailored black suit. His striking blue eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to pierce straight through her. His jaw was sharper than she remembered, his presence commanding. He was no longer the young man she had walked away from—he was something else entirely. Memories crashed over her like a tidal wave. Five years ago, she had been the center of his world, his closest confidante, his lover. Then she had made the choice to leave. It wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. She wasn’t supposed to feel the weight of her decisions dragging her down after all these years. A bitter taste filled her mouth. “He’s everywhere,” she muttered under her breath, forcing herself to look away. Her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse as she picked up her pace. She told herself she had moved on, but her body betrayed her, every nerve ending buzzing with the ghost of a past she had long buried. Her phone rang, the shrill tone cutting through the thick air. Unknown number. She hesitated. A prickle of unease slithered down her spine. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she finally pressed ‘Accept.’ “Hello?” A deep, familiar voice answered. “Missy.” Her heart stopped. She gripped the phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. The city blurred around her as the voice from her past sent ice through her veins. “Damion?” she whispered, disbelief lacing every syllable. A silence stretched between them, thick with history and things left unsaid. “You saw the billboard,” he said, a statement rather than a question. Missy swallowed hard, her pulse roaring in her ears. Why was he calling her now? After all this time? Before she could gather her thoughts, his next words sent her world spiraling. “I need to see you.”