Chapter Three: The Contract — Terms: No Love, No Touching, One Year Only
1100 Words
Alessia’s hand trembled as she held the pen.The contract lay open in front of her like a loaded weapon, every word more intimidating than the last. She sat at the same marble conference table, her reflection staring back at her from the glossy surface. The morning sunlight filtering in from the towering windows cast sharp shadows across the room.
“You’ve read it, I presume?” Damian Blackwood asked, seated across from her. His voice was cold, professional — exactly the way he’d been during their last meeting. He looked impeccable again: black suit, crisp shirt, silver cufflinks glinting like silent threats.
“I read it,” Alessia said quietly.
She hadn’t slept last night. Not a wink. She’d read and re-read every page of the twenty-five-page marriage contract. She’d cried. Paced. Thought about her mother, about eviction, about how one year could change everything — or destroy her.
The terms hadn’t changed.
Clause One: No Romantic Entanglements.
They were to remain emotionally detached. No declarations of affection, no lingering touches, no messy feelings.
Clause Two: No Physical Intimacy.
Absolutely no s****l contact — accidental or otherwise. Separate rooms. Separate lives. Only the image of unity in public.
Clause Three: One Year Term.
Twelve months. Not a day more, not a day less. After that, the marriage would be dissolved without contest.
Clause Four: Appearances.
They would attend public functions, media appearances, and social events as husband and wife. Alessia was expected to smile, dress the part, and say nothing that could reveal the truth.
Clause Five: Confidentiality.
She was bound by an ironclad non-disclosure agreement for life. Any breach would not only revoke her payment but trigger severe legal penalties.
Clause Six: Compensation.
$500,000, paid in quarterly installments. Immediate relocation to a luxury apartment. Full coverage of her mother’s medical bills. Wardrobe allowance. A personal assistant.
It was enough to change her life. Maybe even save it.
But the price was her freedom — her body, her time, her dignity.
Damian was watching her now with cool detachment, like he already knew she would sign.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, voice calm. “This sounds extreme. But it’s not personal. It’s protection. For both of us.”
She looked up, her jaw tense. “Why the no touching rule? Isn’t that a little... excessive?”
His mouth twitched into what might’ve been a smirk, but it vanished quickly. “Experience. Emotions complicate things. s*x complicates things even more. I’ve done this long enough to know what works and what destroys deals. Physical involvement breeds attachment. Attachment leads to betrayal.”
Her brows lifted. “So... you’ve done this before?”
“I’ve had arrangements. Never this formal. But this isn’t about the past.” He stood and walked to the window. “This is business, Miss Hart. You’re an investment. One year of appearances in exchange for financial security. I get my inheritance. You get a future.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“And what happens if I... break a rule?”
His eyes met hers. “Then the deal ends. Immediately. And you walk away with nothing.”
Alessia’s grip tightened on the pen. “And if *you* break a rule?”
“I won’t,” he said simply.
There was silence between them. Heavy. Loaded.
She knew she was standing at a crossroads. If she walked out now, she’d lose everything — the apartment offer, the medical payments for her mother, the hope of a future. But if she signed...
“You’ll get a new identity,” Damian added suddenly. “Not legally, but publicly. We’ll craft your image — the modest, educated, mystery bride. You’ll attend media training. Learn how to walk, speak, pose. You’ll be... transformed.”
Alessia blinked. “So you’re not just buying a wife. You’re creating one.”
He didn’t deny it.
“This is insane,” she murmured.
He stepped closer, placing a slim silver pen beside the contract. “No, Miss Hart. This is survival. You know what happens if you don’t sign. Your mother doesn’t get treatment. You lose your home. You go back to nothing.”
His voice softened — just a fraction.
“I’m not asking you to love me. I’m asking you to play a part. You were an actress once, weren’t you?”
Her eyes snapped up. “How did you—?”
“Your scholarship at Crestwood. Theater program. You dropped out after one year. Family emergency. Another thing my background team discovered.”
Alessia flushed. He knew everything.
“So this is your audition,” he continued. “Play the role, and you’ll be rewarded. Walk away, and the next girl signs the deal instead. I don’t have time to wait.”
She looked back at the contract.
It was madness. But maybe madness was better than misery.
One year. Just one year.
And then she could disappear. Debt-free. Her mother safe.
Without another word, she signed.
Damian didn’t react. He simply picked up the contract, reviewed the signature, and nodded to a silent assistant who had entered the room.
“Make the necessary arrangements. She moves into the penthouse tomorrow. Wedding preparations begin this week. Legal wedding in seven days.”
The assistant vanished again.
Alessia stood, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt numb. Hollow.
“You’ll receive a wardrobe consultant today,” he said. “You’ll need a ring — I’ll send options. And a new phone. Your number will change.”
She turned to leave, then paused.
“What about... privacy? What if someone from my past tries to contact me? My mother, I—”
“Your mother will be briefed. A cover story will be provided — something simple. Overseas job, sudden marriage. Nothing too flashy. She’ll believe it.”
Alessia felt something tighten in her chest. She didn’t even get to tell her mother the truth.
“I’ll arrange for you to see her before the wedding,” Damian added, as if reading her mind. “Once you’re relocated.”
She nodded slowly. “And after the year ends?”
“You’ll get everything promised. A clean break. A new life, if you want it.”
He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t thank her. He just turned back toward the window, already back in his world of power, money, and control.
Alessia walked out of the office with her head spinning and the contract burned into her memory.
She had sold herself.
But at least now, she had something to
show for it.
Or so she hoped.
- Writer
