Episode 3- The Contract
873 Words
The hall still hummed with gasps and whispers as Alexander Steele turned sharply, his eyes locked on Ethan and Lydia.
The power in his gaze was suffocating — calm, lethal, final.
He took Clara’s trembling hand in his and spoke with a quiet authority that silenced the room.
> “You are mine now.”
His voice was low, but it carried — deep and deliberate, a promise and a warning.
Clara froze. Her breath hitched.
She didn’t understand what was happening. Moments ago, she had lost everything — and now, a stranger was claiming her as his own before hundreds of people.
Her lips parted to speak, but no words came out.
Alexander’s eyes shifted to Lydia.
> “You work for Steele Corp, don’t you?”
Lydia blinked, startled. “Y-yes, sir. I—I just joined the marketing—”
> “Not anymore.”
His tone dropped, ice-cold and merciless.
> “You’re fired. From every position you hold — effective immediately.”
The words hit harder than a slap.
Murmurs broke out across the hall. Lydia’s face went pale, her lips trembling.
> “You… you can’t do that,” she stammered. “You don’t even—”
> “I own the company,” he cut in smoothly. “I can do whatever I please.”
The quiet power behind his words made even Ethan flinch.
Then, without another glance, Alexander turned — still holding Clara’s hand — and began walking toward the exit.
His grip was steady, his steps confident.
Lydia’s phone buzzed frantically. She answered — and the color drained completely from her face.
> “What? Terminated?”
“No… please, there must be some mistake—”
Her voice cracked, echoing through the hall that had once whispered about Clara.
Now, they whispered about her instead.
Outside, chaos awaited.
The media had already swarmed.
Dozens of cameras flashed like lightning as reporters shoved microphones forward.
> “Mr. Steele, is she your fiancée?”
“Did you just propose in public?”
“Is she the reason you called off your last engagement?”
Alexander’s bodyguards formed a tight circle, pushing the press back. He said nothing, only tightened his hold around Clara’s shoulders as he guided her through the chaos.
One journalist shouted above the noise:
> “Mr. Steele! You’re known for avoiding women. Why the sudden change?”
Alexander didn’t even break stride. His reply was sharp, simple, and devastatingly confident.
> “Because I wanted to.”
The reporters erupted, cameras flashing harder.
Within seconds, the moment went viral.
Inside the sleek black Maybach, the noise outside faded. Silence pressed in.
Clara sat rigidly, her hands trembling in her lap. The scent of expensive leather filled the air, mixed with the faint cologne from his suit — dark, intoxicating.
She looked down at her wedding gown, now wrinkled and stained with tears and dust.
> “I don’t belong here,” she whispered. “I’ll stain your car.”
Alexander’s eyes flicked toward her, his jaw tightening slightly.
> “Sit,” he said quietly.
“When I tell you to sit, you sit.”
Startled, she turned her face to the window, blinking fast to keep from crying.
Who was this man — this stranger who had destroyed her enemies and now ordered her around like she belonged to him?
When the car stopped, they had arrived at a tall glass building that scraped the clouds — his penthouse.
The moment she stepped out, the cold night air hit her like reality itself.
Everything that had happened felt unreal — like a dream teetering between salvation and madness.
She turned to him, her voice small but steady.
> “Thank you… for helping me,” she said. “But I’ll go now. You’ve done enough.”
She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, his hand closed around her wrist.
Firm. Unyielding. Not cruel — but impossible to ignore.
She looked up, startled.
His eyes — those impossibly dark eyes — pinned her in place.
> “Let’s get married,” he said flatly.
Her heart lurched. “W-what?”
> “A contract marriage,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “It will protect you from the media, and me from speculation. Six months. After that, we divorce.”
Clara stared at him, unable to breathe.
> “You don’t even know me,” she said quietly. “Why would you—”
He cut her off with a faint, almost imperceptible smile.
> “You don’t need to,” he said softly. “You just need to sign.”
He opened the car door wider, his hand extended — not as a demand, but an invitation into something far more dangerous than marriage.
The city lights reflected in his eyes — cold, glittering, endless.
Clara’s pulse thundered in her ears as she looked between his hand and his face.
Everything inside her screamed to run — but something deeper whispered stay.
And when she finally took his hand, she realized too late…
Her life was no longer hers.
It belonged to the devil who had just offered her a contract she couldn’t refuse.
- Writer
