CHAPTER EIGHT — The Answer
421 Words
Friday arrived like a countdown disguised as a sunrise.
Every step toward the office felt heavier than it should. The city hummed with the kind of energy that usually meant nothing—traffic, coffee lines, and impatient footsteps—but today, it felt like the universe was holding its breath with me.
I reached my desk at 7:58 a.m.
Two minutes before my usual time.
Two minutes before my life could split in two entirely different directions.
My inbox was mercifully quiet.
My phone, less so.
Mom:
> Good morning, my daughter ❤️
Don’t forget to eat
The doctor said they would wait for us until Monday
A lie wrapped in love.
They didn’t wait for anyone.
Surgery slots weren’t sentimental.
At 9:10 a.m., a message appeared.
Leon Mercer:
> My office. 9:30.
My heart dropped like a stone.
By 9:29, I stood at his door.
By 9:30, I stepped inside.
He looked calm. Too calm.
Suit crisp, gaze steady, posture controlled.
“Sit,” he said.
My hands shook slightly as I lowered myself into the chair.
He studied me for a long, unreadable moment.
“Your decision,” he said simply.
There is no pressure in his tone.
But the pressure was everywhere in the room.
I swallowed. “Yes.”
His jaw flexed once—barely.
A reaction was only visible if you were watching closely.
And I was.
“Yes,” I repeated, softer. “I’ll sign.”
Silence.
Then he picked up the contract.
“You’re certain?” he asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Then sign here, Miss Blake.”
His voice wasn’t triumphant.
It wasn’t relieved.
It was something else—something deeper, quieter.
I picked up the pen.
Signed my name.
He didn’t look away.
Not once.
When I finished, he took the document gently from my hands.
“Good,” he murmured. “I’ll handle the rest.”
My pulse hammered.
“What happens now?” I whispered.
He closed the file.
“Now,” he said, “you move into my penthouse.”
My breath caught.
He continued calmly.
“We’ll formalize our appearance to the board. Then, the legal office will file the marriage license.”
“That soon?”
“Yes. Delays invite suspicion.”
I nodded, trying to steady my voice. “Okay.”
He watched me again—intently, as if memorizing my reactions.
“You’ll be safe,” he said quietly. “I give you my word.”
It wasn’t reassurance.
It was a vow.
- Writer
