Chapter 4: The Contract
1211 Words
The Al-Maktoum estate rose from the desert like a mirage—a sprawling fortress of glass and steel, its windows reflecting the blood-orange hues of dawn. Alessia stared at it from the back of the armored Bentley, Lila’s stuffed owl clutched to her chest. The toy smelled of hospital disinfectant and the lavender detergent she’d scrimped to buy, a tiny comfort in a world unraveling at the seams.
“Out.” Rashid opened the car door, his scarred face impassive.
Alessia stepped onto the scorching pavement, her maid’s uniform replaced by a silk dress Zayn’s staff had thrust at her—sapphire blue, sleeveless, worth more than her life. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, a cruel joke. *How many women had he dressed like this?*
“Mummy?”
She turned. Lila stood in the driveway, dwarfed by her pink wheelchair, her IV pole draped with ribbons to “make it pretty.” Her nurse, Amina, hovered nearby, eyes downcast.
“Baby!” Alessia sprinted to her, collapsing to her knees. She kissed Lila’s forehead, her cheeks, her hands—reassuring herself this wasn’t a dream. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
Lila giggled. “I rode a *plane*, Mummy! There were clouds like cotton candy!”
Alessia’s throat tightened. “Did you… see anyone? A man with a scar?”
“Uncle Rashid gave me chocolate!”
Alessia shot a glare at the bodyguard. He stared ahead, jaw clenched.
“Come,” Amina said softly. “The doctor is waiting.”
“Doctor?”
“Per the Sheikh’s orders,” Rashid said. “The child undergoes evaluation today.”
Panic spiked. “No. She’s exhausted—she needs rest, not tests!”
“The contract stipulates full medical oversight.” He scooped Lila up, wheelchair and all. “Sign or no sign, she’s his property now.”
“Don’t touch her!” Alessia lunged, but Rashid barred her with a forearm to the throat.
“Stand down, madam.”
“Mummy?” Lila’s smile faltered.
“It’s okay, baby.” Alessia forced a trembling smile. “Mummy’s just… playing a game. Go with Amina. I’ll see you soon.”
As they disappeared into the estate, Alessia’s knees gave out. She knelt on the asphalt, dry heaving, until a shadow fell over her.
“Pathetic.”
Zayn stood above her, crisp in a charcoal suit, his cufflinks shaped like falcons. “Get up. You’ll kneel for no one but me.”
She surged to her feet, slamming her palms against his chest. “If you hurt her—”
He caught her wrists, yanking her close. “You’ll what? Cry? Beg? You’ve already sold your soul, Alessia. All that’s left is the performance.”
The double doors swung open. Leila sauntered out, resplendent in a gold jumpsuit, her diamond choker catching the sun. “Darling, must we keep the riffraff on the doorstep?”
Zayn released Alessia. “Leila’s overseeing the wedding preparations.”
“*Wedding*?” Alessia choked.
“Did you think I’d let you waltz into my family without a proper spectacle?” Leila smirked. “The press arrives at noon. Do try not to embarrass Zayn.”
Alessia turned to him. “You said it’d be discreet!”
“Plans change.” He straightened his tie. “Leila’s father requires proof of my… commitment.”
“You mean your *lies*.”
Leila’s slap snapped Alessia’s head sideways. “Watch your tongue, gutter rat.”
Zayn didn’t flinch. “Inside, both of you. We have details to discuss.”
---
The bridal suite was a gilded prison. Alessia stood before a floor-length mirror, her reflection a stranger drowned in lace and pearls. Leila circled her like a vulture, adjusting the veil with sadistic precision.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Leila purred. “Vera Wang. It’ll look stunning in the obituaries.”
Alessia gripped the bouquet—white roses threaded with thorns. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because Zayn’s mine.” Leila fastened a diamond choker around Alessia’s throat, tightening it until she gasped. “This marriage is a farce. Once he secures his inheritance, you’ll vanish. And if you breathe a word about that brat…”
“She’s *four*.”
“And I’m infertile.” Leila’s smile turned feral. “Thanks to a childhood illness. Zayn needs an heir. Imagine his joy when I present him with *your* daughter.”
Alessia recoiled. “You’re insane.”
“I’m pragmatic.” Leila traced the bruises on Alessia’s wrists. “Play your part, and the girl lives. Fight me, and I’ll make her wish the disease killed her.”
A knock interrupted them. Rashid entered, his gaze avoiding Alessia’s. “It’s time.”
---
The ceremony was a blasphemy. A *nikaah* conducted in the estate’s marble courtyard, the imam’s voice drowned by the roar of paparazzi helicopters. Zayn stood beside her, a statue in a black tuxedo, his vows a monotone recitation.
“Do you consent, Alessia Carter?”
She stared at the contract in the imam’s hands—a devil’s bargain signed in blood and tears. *Lila’s laugh. Her tiny hands. The Swiss clinic’s promise.*
“I do.”
Zayn slid a ring onto her finger—emerald, his family’s color. “With this, I bind you.”
The crowd erupted in applause. Leila’s smile cut like a scalpel.
Alessia’s vision blurred. The courtyard tilted.
“Zayn…” She grasped his arm.
“Don’t embarrass me,” he hissed.
Her knees buckled. The world went dark.
---
She woke in a canopy bed, the room swimming with shadows. Zayn stood at the window, a medical report in hand.
“Congratulations,” he said coldly. “You’re pregnant.”
Alessia’s blood turned to ice. “That’s impossible.”
He tossed the report onto the bed. “Eight weeks. The timing suggests it’s… not mine.”
*The night before she left Dubai. His hands, his mouth, the way he’d whispered “Stay” like a plea.*
“It’s yours,” she whispered.
His laugh was razor-edged. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t trust your word.”
“Test it then!”
“I have.” He held up a vial of blood. “But results take time. Until then—”
The door burst open. Leila stormed in, her face contorted. “You *w***e*! You think you can trap him with a bastard?”
Zayn caught her wrist mid-swing. “Enough, Leila.”
“You promised!” she shrieked. “You said she was just a pawn!”
Alessia clutched her stomach. “Get out.”
Leila lunged, but Rashid dragged her away, her screams echoing down the hall.
Zayn turned to Alessia. “Get rid of it.”
“No.”
“The contract stipulates—”
“I don’t care!” She hurled the vase at him. “You don’t get to take *everything*!”
He ducked, shards exploding against the wall. “You’ll obey, or I’ll rip that thing from your womb myself.”
Alessia’s phone buzzed. The unknown number again:
**Unknown:** *He’s lying. The clinic’s a fraud. Meet me tonight. 2 a.m., the east garden.*
A photo followed: Dr. Khaled, Lila’s specialist, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.
- Writer
