BOUND BY CONTRACT

The penthouse was too quiet. Amara stared at the contract on the marble table. _COLLATERAL AGREEMENT_ in bold letters. Her lawyer cleared his throat. "It’s the only way, Miss Vance. Marry for 12 months. The board will drop the case." She laughed bitterly. "And who in their right mind would—" "Me." The voice came from the door. Elias stood there in his driver’s uniform, hands in his pockets. His jaw was tight. "My sister needs surgery. 200k. You pay it. I sign." Amara looked at him. Ragged, angry, and the most honest man she’d met in years. She picked up the pen. "Bound by contract," she whispered. And signed. Elias took the pen and signed at that moment he realised that he had sold 12 full months of his life but the only thing that he had was at stake 'his sister ' and that was all that mattered to him. After the signing Amara stayed back to have a word with her lawyer "Wait in the car"she said coldly Elias quietly left the lawyers office and went into the car. Soon he saw Amaira walking towards the car with disgust clearly written on her face. "Drive" she said to the new driver as she got into the car VANCE ESTATE The Vance Estate didn’t have a driveway. It had a road. Elias watched the black gates slide open from the back the car he used to drive. Except today he wasn’t in the driver’s seat. He was in the back, in a suit that didn’t fit right, holding a duffel bag with everything he owned. 12 months. That’s what the contract said. 12 months of pretending to be married to Amara Vance for 200,000 dollars. The number should’ve felt like freedom. It felt like a noose. The house came into view and Elias forgot how to breathe. White stone, glass walls, fountains. It looked like something from a magazine his mom used to cut up for inspiration. Except now he was supposed to live here and pretend to fit in perfectly. The car stopped. The butler was already at the door before Elias could touch the handle. “Mr. Moore,” the man said, looking at Elias like he was a stain on the marble. “Miss Vance is expecting you in the east wing.” East wing. Like the house was a kingdom. Elias followed him through halls that echoed. Paintings that cost more than his sister’s surgery. Flowers that were probably flown in from somewhere he’d never been and might never have the luxury to visit in his entire life. Amara was waiting in a sitting room that was bigger than his apartment. She stood by the window, back to him. Silk pants, white button-down, bare feet. No jewelry. No makeup. She looked 22, not 27. She looked human. She turned when she heard him. Her eyes did a quick scan. Suit. Duffel bag. The tiredness under his eyes that no amount of money could fix. “Welcome to your new home,” she said. Her voice was flat. Practiced. Elias set his bag down. “It’s not my home. It’s a contract.” A flicker in her eyes. Maybe respect. Maybe annoyance. “Coffee table,” she said, nodding to it. On it: two copies of the _COLLATERAL AGREEMENT_. Two pens. One gold, one black. And between them, a small stack of photos. Her and Elias at a courthouse. Fake smiles. It already looked real. “House rules,” Amara continued, like she was reading from a memo. “Separate bedrooms. Separate bathrooms. No physical contact. We appear together for 3 public events per month. We post twice on social media per month. We do not fight in front of staff. We do not tell anyone this is fake.” Elias picked up the black pen. “What happens if we break a rule?” “Then the deal is off,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “And my company goes under. And your sister doesn’t get her surgery.” There it was. The contract. He signed. She signed. The sound of pen on paper was louder than it should’ve been. “Good,” Amara said. She picked up her copy and walked to the door. “Dinner is at 8. We have photographers here at 10am tomorrow. Wear something dark. We need to look serious.” “Amara—” She stopped but didn’t turn. “Why me?” Elias asked. “You could’ve married anyone. Some CEO. Some politician.” Finally she looked over her shoulder. “Because you have nothing to lose,” she said. “And nothing to gain from betraying me. Except the money. And I can control that.” Then she was gone. --- Elias’ room was on the second floor. Guest wing. It had a king bed, a fireplace, and a view of the city. It also had silence. The kind of silence that made you hear your own thoughts too loud. He video-called his sister first thing. *Maya*, 9 years old, grinning from her hospital bed with an oxygen tube in her nose. “Did you do it, Eli?” “Yeah, baby. We did it. Surgery is next month. Best doctors.” “Is she pretty? The wife?” Elias laughed. “She’s... something.” “Bring me pictures.” He hung up and lay back on the bed. The sheets were cold. Expensive. He wasn’t supposed to feel guilty. This was saving Maya. So why did signing his name feel like selling a piece of himself? --- Down the hall, Amara poured herself a glass of wine she wouldn’t drink. The board had given her an ultimatum: marry or lose Vance Holdings. Her father’s scandal. Her brother’s gambling. All of it would drag the company down unless she “stabilized the public image.” A marriage. To anyone. She’d picked Elias because he was safe. Broke. Desperate. Grateful. He wouldn’t fall in love. He wouldn’t cause problems and most especially he wouldn’t betray her . So why was her chest tight when she’d seen him standing in her house, looking so out of place? Her phone buzzed. *BOARD CHAIRMAN*: _Photos by noon. We need to believe it._ She typed back: _You will._ She walked to the mirror. Took off the earrings. Took off the mask. For just a second, she let herself look tired. A knock. Soft. It was Elias. Still in that ill-fitting suit. Holding his duffel like he was ready to run. “Your staff put my bag in the wrong room,” he said. Amara opened the door wider. The hallway light made shadows under his eyes. He looked exhausted. And angry. And so, so real compared to everyone in her world. “Room 204,” she said. “Next to mine.” He nodded. Started to leave, then stopped. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he said quietly. “The company thing. The scandal. You don’t have to pretend with me 24/7 after all that's what you pay me for .” Amara’s throat closed. No one had said that to her in years. “I do,” she said. “That’s the whole point of the contract.” She closed the door before he could see her face. --- At 8pm, they had dinner. Long table. 12 chairs. Just the two of them.one on one The staff served and disappeared. Elias ate like a man who was used to eating fast. Amara picked at her food visibly disturbed then she finally spoke. “We should practice,” she said suddenly. “For what?” “Talking. Smiling. Acting like we like each other in public or business galas ” Elias put his fork down. “Do you want me to like you, Amara?” The question hit her like a slap. “I want you to do your job,” she said. “Right. The job.” He stood. “I’ll see you at 10am. For the lie.” He left her alone with two full plates and a house that was too big. That night, Elias lay awake listening to the house settle. That night, Amara lay awake listening to the footsteps in the room next to hers. 12 months. Separate rooms. No feelings. Bound by "BOUND BY CONTRACT"* _by EMPRESS DEMIURGE