Sign
973 Words
I shouldn’t be here.
Not in his house.
Not with a secret.
My feet didn’t want to move.
But I made them.
One step. Then another. Into his house.
The marble floor was so cold it bit through my stressed foot.
The hallway was too long. Too quiet.
And the pictures on the walls were watching me.
Him.
In a boardroom, signing papers while other men looked scared.
At a gala, with a glass of wine and no smile, surrounded by people who laughed too loud at his jokes.
Every photo was the same man.
Cold. Mean. Ruthless.
I hated him in every frame.
I hated him for 5 years.
So why was I here?
The housekeepers who let me in didn’t look at me. One of them, an older woman with kind eyes, grabbed my elbow at the entrance.
“Miss,” she whispered. “This wing. Don’t make noise. Don’t ask questions. And don’t look him in the eye for too long.”
Like they were scared of this part of the mansion. Like even breathing here was dangerous.
I nodded. My throat was too dry to speak.
I swallowed.
Is he going to help me?
Will Dad even survive if he says no?
The air felt heavier with every step.
And at the end of the hallway.
And then I saw him.
At the top of the staircase.
My father’s worst enemy.
The chandelier above him threw light down like a spotlight. He hadn’t moved yet. Like he’d been waiting.
Black suit. No tie. Top two buttons undone. Sleeves rolled once, like he’d been working and stopped the moment he heard I came.
He was tall. Taller than I remembered from news clips.
His hands were in his pockets, but he didn’t look relaxed. He looked like a king watching someone walk into his trap.
The light cut across his face and that’s when I noticed everything I’d spent 5 years hating.
The sharp jaw. Clenched.
The scar over his left brow. Thin, white. From what? I never knew.
His hair was black, slightly messy, like he’d run a hand through it.
And his mouth. Hard line. No softness.
But it was the eyes. God, the eyes.
Dark. Almost black. Unreadable.
And locked on me.
Not blinking. Not judging yet. Just... cataloging.
From my cheap dress, to my shaking hands holding Dad’s bills, to my face.
Like he was measuring exactly how desperate I was. Like he’d done this before.
The whole house was silent.
My heart was so loud it hurt.
This was the man who destroyed us. The man whose company took everything.
And now I was standing in his house, begging.
He still didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.
And the worst part?
For one stupid second, I forgot he was the reason why I was here.
Because the man standing on those stairs looked like power. Like money. Like the only person in the world who could save him.
The silence broke.
“Carter’s Corporation.” He made it sound like dirt. Like a disease.
“Let me guess.”
His voice was low. It carried down the whole staircase without him raising it.
“Shares dropped.
I don’t invest in losers.”
My cheeks burned. Shame and anger at the same time.
The files in my hand.
Damp.
From my sweaty palm.
“Carter’s Corporation aren’t losers.” My voice came out smaller than I wanted. “We—”
“Then why are you here?”
His eyes dragged down my body.
Slow.
Not s****l. Worse. Analytical. Like I was a problem to solve.
I knew it.
All I had left was debt.
“Please—”
The word escaped.
Before I could stop it.
I hated myself the second I said it.
I knelt.
Right there on the cold marble.
Before Damian Voss.
Dad’s biggest rival.
He stared.
Blank.
No emotion. Like he’d expected this.
Then he lifted one hand.
Just two fingers. A snap.
Click.
From the shadows behind him, a man in a suit appeared. He didn’t run. He walked. And placed a thick paper on the staircase railing, then disappeared.
A marriage contract. A merger. His lawyers had it ready.
He’d prepared it before I even walked in.
He walked down then.
One step.
Two.
Majestic.
Like he owned gravity. Like the house tilted for him.
He stopped two steps above me. So I still had to look up.
I skimmed it.
Fast. My hands trembling.
One line burned:
To secure Carter Corp, you will belong to me.
A marriage certificate was stapled to the last page. My name already typed next to a blank space. His signature already at the bottom.
My eyes met his.
“Sign.”
He said it quietly.
“Or your dad’s company crashes.”
No transplant.
No Dad.
In that second I knew.
My reputation didn’t matter.
Only his life did.
Damian stood in front of me now.
Black suit.
No smile.
His eyes were ice.
Like he could see every ugly, desperate thought in my head.
My hand shook so bad the ink smeared.
Lina Carter.
His name was next to mine.
I scribbled.
Lina Carter.
"I don’t want this marriage."
My voice broke. “I just need an investor."
He took one step. I took one back. Until my back hit velvet. The wall? No. A curtain. Heavy.
"You don’t have to want it," he said.
Low.
Dangerous.
He bent close.
Breath on my ear.
Expensive.
Cold.
"All you have to do is be mine."
I felt it.
Adrenaline.
Heat.
For one stupid second...
I wanted to lean in.
No.
Not Damian.
Not the man who bought me.
I turned away.
He straightened.
Slid the contract into his suit pocket.
He walked out.
Footsteps echoing.
And just like that, I was Mrs. Voss.
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