Chapter Three: The Signature
1207 Words
LIANA
I didn't sleep that night either.
The contract sat on my kitchen table like a living thing, twenty pages of legal language that kept pulling my eyes back no matter how hard I tried to look away. Sofia had read it twice, then looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"You can't be seriously considering this." She paced my tiny living room, her voice low so she wouldn't wake Ezra. "Liana, this man is essentially buying you."
"He's offering a solution." I traced the edge of the paper, not meeting her eyes. "Three million dollars, Sofia. Do you know what that means? No more debt. No more hiding. Ezra could have everything."
"And what happens when this billionaire finds out about Ezra?" She stopped pacing, planted her hands on the table. "Because he will find out. You can't hide a four year old for six months."
That was the part that had kept me up, staring at the ceiling while my mind ran in circles. The contract had privacy clauses I'd insisted on during that surreal coffee shop meeting, the right to maintain existing commitments without explanation, protection of personal matters. Kairos had agreed without questions, too focused on his business deal to dig deeper.
But six months was a long time. Six months of living in his penthouse, of playing his wife in public, of lying every single day.
"I'll figure it out." The words sounded weak even to me. "The money is life changing, Sofia. It's not just about paying off debt. It's about giving Ezra a real future."
"And if it all falls apart? If he finds out and destroys you?" Sofia's eyes were wet. "Men like Kairos Blackwood don't forgive lies. I've read about him. He's ruthless."
"So am I." I looked at her finally. "When it comes to protecting my son, I'm ruthless too."
She left an hour later, still unhappy but knowing she couldn't change my mind. After she was gone, I checked on Ezra. He was sprawled across his bed, one arm hanging off the side, his favorite stuffed dinosaur clutched in the other hand. Four years old and already the best thing I'd ever done.
I'd lie to a thousand billionaires for him.
The pen felt heavy when I picked it up. My hand shook as I signed my name on the last page, the ink dark against white paper. Liana Hart, selling six months of her life, buying her son's future.
I took a picture of the signed contract and sent it to the number Kairos had given me. No message, just the image. Three in the morning and I was sealing a deal with the devil.
His response came thirty seconds later.
"My lawyer will contact you tomorrow with next steps. The wedding is in two weeks."
Two weeks. My hands went cold. This was really happening.
I made coffee I wouldn't drink and watched the sunrise through my kitchen window, thinking about all the ways this could go wrong and trying to believe in the one way it might go right.
When Kairos's lawyer called the next afternoon, I was in the middle of making Ezra lunch. Peanut butter and jelly, cut into triangles because he insisted they tasted better that way.
"Miss Hart, I'm Marcus Chen, Mr. Blackwood's personal attorney and assistant." His voice was professional, efficient. "We need to discuss logistics. Can you come to Mr. Blackwood's office today at four?"
"I have a commitment at three." Ezra's preschool pickup. "Can we make it five thirty?"
A pause. "That works. I'll send you the address."
Ezra looked up from his lunch, peanut butter on his cheek. "Mama, can we go to the park after school?"
"Not today, baby." I wiped his face with a napkin. "But this weekend, I promise. We'll go to the big park with the swings."
"The really high swings?"
"The really high ones." I kissed the top of his head, breathing in the smell of his strawberry shampoo. Two more weeks of our normal life. Two more weeks before everything changed.
Sofia picked him up at three like always. I changed into my interview outfit, the same one I'd worn to meet Kairos, and tried not to think about how out of place I'd look in whatever tower he worked in.
The address led me to a building in Midtown that stretched so high I couldn't see the top. Glass and steel and money, the kind of place where security guards looked at you like they could smell poverty. I gave them Kairos's name and watched their attitudes shift instantly.
The elevator ride to the seventieth floor made my ears pop.
Marcus Chen met me in the lobby, a slim Asian man in his early thirties with kind eyes behind designer glasses. "Miss Hart, thank you for coming. This way please."
He led me past cubicles full of people doing important things I didn't understand, into a conference room with windows overlooking the entire city. Manhattan spread out below like a toy model, small and conquerable from up here.
"Before we begin, I want you to know this conversation is confidential." Marcus set a folder on the table. "Mr. Blackwood values discretion above all else. What we discuss stays between us."
"Understood." I sat down, trying to look more confident than I felt.
"The wedding will be at Saint Patrick's Cathedral, two weeks from Saturday. We'll provide your dress, handle all arrangements. You'll need to move into Mr. Blackwood's penthouse three days before for appearances." He slid papers across to me. "This is the prenuptial agreement. It protects Mr. Blackwood's assets completely. You'll receive half the payment upfront, one point five million, the rest upon completion of the six month term."
One point five million dollars. In three days. The number made me dizzy.
"What about my apartment?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
"We'll cover your rent for the duration. Any existing commitments you have will be accommodated, as outlined in your privacy agreement." He looked at me carefully. "Mr. Blackwood takes contracts very seriously, Miss Hart. He expects complete honesty within the terms you've both agreed to."
Something in his tone made me nervous. "Of course."
"Good." He opened another folder. "Now, let's discuss your background story. The press will want to know how you met."
We spent two hours crafting a lie. A chance meeting at a gallery, a whirlwind romance, love at first sight. Marcus was thorough, asking questions, poking holes, making sure our story would hold under scrutiny. The whole time, guilt sat heavy in my stomach.
I was getting good at lying. Too good.
When I finally left, the sun was setting, painting the sky orange and purple. I stood on the street corner, watching people rush past, and pulled out my phone.
The first payment would hit my account in forty eight hours. Enough money to solve every problem I'd been drowning in. All I had to do was keep lying.
I called Sofia. "Can you keep Ezra this weekend? I need to pack."
Her sigh said everything. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"So do I," I whispered.
But it was too late to turn back now.
- Writer
