Chapter 2
1517 Words
The world outside the hospital was still moving. Elena wasn’t.
She didn’t remember walking back to her apartment. She didn’t remember unlocking the rusted door or dropping to the floor the moment it closed behind her. She just knew she was there now, knees curled to her chest, trembling in silence while the echo of her brother’s monitor still beeped in her ears.
The city was loud outside, yet all she heard was one number:
Eighty-seven thousand four hundred dollars.
Hope didn’t live here anymore. Only desperation.
And then him.
Blackwood.
Even his name tasted dangerous in her mouth.
Who was he, really? Why her? Why offer to help?
The question clawed at her, but the answer didn’t matter. Because Noah was dying.
And the devil offered to save him.
Elena had spent the night curled on the floor of her apartment, still wearing her hospital wristband. Sleep never came, only the sound of her brother's fragile breaths looping in her mind. Every time she blinked, she saw Noah's pale face, his tiny fingers curled weakly around hers.
There was no charity left. No miracles. Only a stranger’s voice, velvet smooth and wickedly calm, echoing in her head.
“I can save him.”By the time morning light sliced through her window, Elena had made her choice.
The city looked different today.
Colder.
Or maybe it was just her.
She stood outside Blackwood Enterprises, her coat pulled tight, heart a wildfire in her chest. She didn’t belong here her entire presence looked like a stain against the glass-and-gold tower. People in heels and suits passed her without a glance. They belonged.
She was just trying to survive.
Still, she walked through those doors.
The lobby was silent and silver. A crystal chandelier hung like a star above her. Everything smelled like Power Fresh, expensive, and untouchable. She stood still for a second, afraid that even her breath would leave a mark.
“I’m here to see Mr. Blackwood,” she said quietly to the receptionist.
The woman, pristine in red lipstick and sharp nails, lifted a brow. But typed it anyway.
“He’s expecting you.”
Elena blinked. He is?
A tall man in black appeared from nowhere and gestured toward the private elevator. Elena followed, her fingers clenching her bag like it was the only thing keeping her together.
.Elena barely registered for the elevator ride. Her heart pounded like a war drum. By the time the doors opened, her palms were damp, her breathing shallow. The ride-up felt eternal.
When the doors opened on the top floor, Elena stepped onto the top floor, a wave of silence wrapped around her like cold silk. The air was crisp, scented faintly with leather and cedar. Polished black marble stretched beneath her feet, and glass walls revealed a sweeping view of the city skyline. Minimalist decor, sharp lines, muted tones, and expensive art screamed control and power. It felt less like an office and more like a throne room.
And at the center of it all, like a shadow carved from ice, stood
Dominic Blackwood is unmoving, unreadable, and terrifyingly dominant. Standing by the window like he owned the city.
He turned slowly, steel-grey eyes cutting through her like frost.
And for a heartbeat, she forgot how to breathe. His scent lingered everywhere, spread in every corner. He was a sin in a suit. Effortlessly powerful. Terrifyingly beautiful. Cold in a way that made warmth feel like a luxury.
“You came,” he said, voice smooth, rich, unreadable.
“I don’t have time to play games,” Elena answered, even though her knees felt like glass.
“No,” he replied, stepping closer, “you don’t.”
He stopped in front of her. So close she could smell his cologne dark, expensive, and somehow more intimate than it should be.
“I told you I could save your brother,” he said. “I didn’t lie.”
“Then what do you want in return?” Her voice cracked despite her strength.
His lips curled slightly, not a smile. Something darker.
“I need you. For one year."
Her stomach dropped.
She took a step back, her pulse roaring in her ears.
“I’m not for sale.”
Tears burned the back of her throat. She hated him for being right.
“Noah is twelve,” she whispered. “He’s all I have. And I’m all he has.”
Dominic’s gaze didn’t soften, but something flickered behind it.
“Then sign. And save him.”
“Desperation suits you,” he said coldly. “But don’t mistake this for mercy.”
He walked to his desk, retrieving a sleek black folder.
“One year. You’ll live in my home, act as my fiancée, and follow every rule. No real relationship, no dating, no independence. You belong to me. Publicly, and privately.”
She swallowed. “Why me?”
“You’re plain enough to be overlooked. Innocent enough to be trusted. Desperate enough to obey.”
He didn’t blink as he said it.
“And useful enough for my purpose.”
Elena frowned. “What purpose?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened slightly.
“You don’t get to ask questions. Not yet.”
That answer sent a chill down her spine.
“Why fake a fiancée at all?” she pressed.
A faint smirk touched his lips. “Because the world is easier to control when it thinks you’re in love.”
There it was. A glimpse of the mask cracking. But only for a second.
“Noah gets the best care?” she asked.
“He’ll be admitted to the top private facility by tonight. A specialist is already on standby.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
“Do we have a deal?” he asked.
She nodded. Slowly.
And signed her name.
“You’ll move in with me. You’ll attend events. You’ll wear what I give you. Smile when I say. Speak when you’re spoken to.”
“What do you get out of this?"
He handed her a sleek black folder. Inside was a contract terms, conditions, and threats dressed in legal ink. Elena glanced down at the contract in her hands pages and pages of rules, clauses, and cold legal terms. It wasn’t an agreement. It was a surrender.
One year. No escape.
She stared at the page.
Her hand shook as she gripped the pen. Her whole body screamed not to. But her soul bled for her brother.
She signed.
A single stroke that felt like setting herself on fire.
Dominic took the contract, flipped it shut, and turned away as if the matter was done.
The silence afterward was suffocating.
Dominic closed the folder.
“You’ll move into my penthouse tomorrow. A car will arrive at eight sharp. Don’t be late.”
“That’s it?” she choked. “No questions? No discussion?”
"You already said yes, Miss Dawson. This is the part where you surrender.”
She stared at him, hatred and gratitude twisting together in her chest.
“You’re a monster,” she whispered.
He didn’t flinch. “And you just agreed to wear my ring.”
“Is that all?” she whispered.
“No,” he said. “There’s one more thing.”
He stepped closer. So close she could feel his breath on her skin.
“If you ever lie to me, disobey me, or embarrass me in public…” He leaned in, his voice deadly soft. “I won’t just walk away. I’ll destroy you.”
Elena froze.
He pulled back, expression unreadable.
“Now go. Your new life starts tomorrow.”
As the elevator doors closed behind her, Elena’s world tilted. She had sold her freedom. Her body. Maybe even her soul.
But Noah would live.
And that was the only thing that mattered.
For now.
She didn’t remember leaving the building. Didn’t remember walking through the busy streets. But suddenly she was back in her room, clutching her coat, her knees buckling as she dropped to the floor.
What had she done?
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks. She had signed away her freedom. Her dignity. For her brother.
And for the coldest man she’d ever met.
But as the night passed, something inside her shifted. A fire. Quiet, but real.
She wouldn’t just survive this.
She would learn. Adapt. Fight.
Even if she had sold herself to the devil, she would not lose her soul.
Not yet.
Meanwhile…
Dominic stared out of his office window, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“Elena Dawson,” he murmured.
Innocent. Desperate. Exactly what he needed.
But it wasn’t just about the image.
She reminded him of someone.
Someone he had failed.
He picked up the phone. “Activate full surveillance. I want her monitored 24/7. Dig into her past. Every detail. I want to know what she eats, who she talks to, if she cries in her sleep.”
The man on the other end paused. “Understood.”
Dominic’s jaw clenched.
Elena wasn’t just a pawn.
She was a risk.
And risks… were dangerous.
- Writer
