“Bound by Contract”

Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Mrs. Wolfe-to-Be

Lina signed the contract with trembling fingers.

One moment, she was Lina Evans, broke waitress with too many bills and a brother to protect.

The next, she was a woman sold to a future she didn’t understand—for a price that felt both like salvation and betrayal.

Alexander didn’t smile when she handed him the pen. He simply nodded, pulled the file toward him, and closed it with the finality of a man sealing a fate.

“You’ll move in tomorrow,” he said, already checking his watch. “I’ve assigned a stylist, a personal assistant, and a driver. Your brother will be relocated to a private school. All costs covered.”

She blinked. “You—you’re taking care of Noah?”

“I said I would.” His voice was matter-of-fact. “I don’t break my word.”

That was the strange thing about him. Cold, yes. Detached, definitely. But he didn’t lie. Not once. His words were weapons, precise and sharp. She had no doubt he meant everything he promised—and everything he threatened.

“How long before the wedding?” she asked quietly.

“Four days.”

Her heart skipped. “Four?”

“It’s just a civil ceremony. Small, private. Legal. That’s all that matters.”

And just like that, she was engaged.

To a man she didn’t know.

⸻

That night, Lina stood in her tiny kitchen, packing the few clothes she owned into an old duffel bag. The cracked tiles, peeling paint, and weak lightbulbs somehow felt more precious now that she was leaving.

Her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Your pick-up arrives at 9 AM sharp. Do not be late.

—C.

C?

She guessed it meant Camilla, the personal assistant Alexander mentioned. He probably had an entire army managing his schedule while she couldn’t even afford a working toaster.

The next morning, right on cue, a sleek black SUV waited at the curb. The driver—stiff, suited, silent—opened the door for her without a word.

She sank into the leather seat, clutching her bag like a lifeline. As the car pulled away, her neighborhood faded in the rearview mirror—graffiti walls, rusty balconies, kids skipping school—and was replaced by pristine streets and mirrored towers.

By the time they arrived at the penthouse, Lina felt like she was watching someone else’s life.

The building’s lobby alone looked like a museum. Marble floors, chandeliers, a scent like lavender and cold money.

A tall woman with sharp cheekbones and red lipstick greeted her. “Miss Evans?”

Lina nodded.

“I’m Camilla, Mr. Wolfe’s assistant. You’ll be staying on the 51st floor. He’s on the 52nd. Use the private elevator only.”

Lina followed her through sleek glass doors into an elevator so silent it barely felt like it moved.

When the doors opened, her breath caught.

The apartment—no, palace—was bigger than her entire building back home. Cream walls. Gold accents. A skyline view that seemed unreal.

“This is… all for me?”

Camilla arched a brow. “You’re about to become Mrs. Wolfe. Appearances matter. Try to look the part.”

Before she could reply, two women stepped in with racks of designer clothes. One carried makeup kits. The other had a measuring tape.

“Mr. Wolfe asked that we prepare you for press introductions,” Camilla said briskly. “Hair, nails, wardrobe, etiquette. You’ll be representing the Wolfe name now.”

Lina wanted to laugh. She barely knew how to walk in heels, let alone play billionaire barbie. But something in her gut said: Get through it. For Noah. For survival.

So she nodded. “Okay. Let’s get it over with.”

⸻

Three hours later, Lina barely recognized herself in the mirror.

Her curls were tamed into soft waves. Her nails painted nude and glossy. Her lips shimmered. And the dress—black, silk, custom-fitted—hugged her like it had been sewn onto her skin.

“You clean up well,” came a voice behind her.

She turned.

Alexander stood in the doorway, dressed in tailored charcoal, the light catching on his cufflinks. His gaze swept over her slowly, methodically, like she was a business presentation he had to approve.

Something flickered in his eyes. Something unreadable.

“You’ll do,” he said simply.

Lina exhaled, both annoyed and strangely relieved. “Thanks, I guess?”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “The media’s watching now. Our photos will be released tomorrow with the official engagement notice. You’ll smile when told. Stay silent when unsure. I’ll handle the press.”

She folded her arms. “Do I get to say anything? Ever?”

Alexander tilted his head. “You can speak freely with me. Just not in public. Not yet.”

“Great. A life of luxury and invisible tape over my mouth.”

He stepped closer then, just enough to make her breath catch. “No one’s forcing you, Lina.”

“I signed your contract.”

“And you can walk away—if you’re willing to lose everything I offered.”

She met his gaze, defiant. “I’m not a toy you can wind up and pose.”

“No. You’re a weapon,” he said softly. “And I need one that won’t backfire.”

He walked away without another word.

And Lina was left wondering what, exactly, she’d agreed to.