Assets and Heirs
953 Words
Aurora had planned to leave before the first light of dawn hit the Manhattan skyline.
That was the plan. One final night inside the golden cage. One final goodbye to the girl who had arrived here full of dreams. She would vanish into the city mist before Vander even realized his "charity case" was gone.
But shortly before midnight, the heavy gates of the estate groaned open.
Aurora froze on the grand staircase, her heart leaping into her throat as headlights swept across the darkened foyer. Vander was home. It was a rarity for him to return before the sun, but tonight, the universe seemed determined to twist the knife one last time.
She descended the stairs barefoot, her steps silent on the cold marble. The mansion was a tomb, except for a sliver of light bleeding from the heavy oak doors of the private study.
Voices drifted through the air. Low. Masculine. Cloaked in the scent of expensive scotch and cigar smoke.
Aurora stopped just outside the door, her breath hitching. She recognized the second voice instantly: Leonidas Stavros. Vander’s oldest friend. A man born into the same stratosphere of power and old money. Unlike Vander, Leonidas was charming and loud, but his eyes were always too observant.
Tonight, those eyes were focused on her husband.
“I’m serious, Vander,” Leonidas said, the clink of ice against crystal punctuating his words. “Sofia Laurent is the most impressive woman I’ve met all year.”
Aurora’s chest tightened. Sofia. The name finally had a face—the brunette from the office.
“Beautiful. Intelligent. Educated,” Leonidas continued. “Old European blood. She knows how to navigate a boardroom without embarrassing the family. Honestly? She’s the kind of woman a man in your position is supposed to marry.”
The words were a jagged blade. Aurora waited. She held her breath, waiting for Evander to defend her. To say her name. To say anything that hinted she was more than a mistake.
Silence.
The only sound was the slow swirl of whiskey in a glass. That silence was more deafening than any insult Leonidas could have hurled.
“You know the media already thinks she’s your real partner,” Leonidas chuckled.
“I don’t care what the media thinks,” Evander replied, his voice a smooth, indifferent baritone.
“That obvious, huh?”
Aurora wrapped her arms around herself, her nails digging into her skin. She should walk away. She knew she should. But then, Leonidas asked the question that froze the blood in her veins.
“So… when does your marriage contract finally expire?”
Contract. The word echoed like a death knell in Aurora's head. Inside the office, Vander exhaled a plume of smoke. “There’s a clause tied to my grandmother’s inheritance. If Aurora and I don't produce an heir, I can’t fully access the family-controlled assets Helena left behind.”
The world tilted. Aurora leaned against the wall, her knees threatening to buckle. It made a horrifying kind of sense now. The marriage wasn't a gift from Helena to her—it was a trap for him. A transaction.
“So the old woman boxed you in,” Leonidas whistled.
“She wanted the marriage to be permanent. This was her way of ensuring it.”
Leonidas laughed. “So that explains the anniversary stunt.” Aurora’s heart stopped.
“I needed to know if producing an heir with her was even possible,” Vander said. His voice was terrifyingly clinical. As if he were discussing a business merger or a laboratory experiment. Aurora pressed a trembling hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. Her anniversary. The candles. The way he had looked at her. The tenderness she had tucked away in her heart like a sacred relic.
It was a test. A strategy. A calculation.
“And? Was the mission successful?” Leonidas asked, sounding amused. Vander poured another drink. “If it had worked, Aurora would have said something by now. Since she hasn't, I'm assuming it was a failure.”
Hot tears blurred Aurora’s vision. Her entire body shook with the force of her heartbreak. To her, that night had been the beginning of a life. To him, it was a failed investment.
“But what if she is pregnant?” Leonidas asked, his tone turning serious. The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating.
“If Aurora carries my child,” Vander finally answered, his voice turning cold and certain, “the baby becomes the sole heir to the Drakos empire. The contract is fulfilled.”
“And what about Aurora?”
Vander took a final sip of his scotch. “Then she’s served her purpose. She can have whatever she wants—the divorce, the money, the houses. As long as the heir stays with me.”
Silence.
Inside the hallway, something in Aurora died. It wasn't just her love—that had been bleeding out for years. This was the death of her soul. She realized the terrifying truth: If she stayed, her child wouldn't be a person. It would be an asset. A piece of the Drakos machinery. And once she delivered that asset, she would be discarded like a used-up contract.
She stepped backward, moving away before they could hear her soul shattering. Inside the office, their laughter started up again, light and casual, as if they hadn't just dismantled a woman’s entire existence.
Aurora turned and walked toward her room, one hand pressed protectively over her womb. She wasn't leaving because she was hurt anymore. She was leaving because she was terrified.
She had to get out. Before the Drakos family stole the only thing she had left.
- Writer
