The gold-digger's masterpiece

Chapter 8. High court agreement

At the front was Lady Beatrice Claudius, a woman who seemed to be carved from marble, standing tall and commanding. Her hair was styled in a sleek silver helmet, perfectly fitting the regal aura she carried. She wore a midnight navy suit that looked like armor, sturdy and elegant, with a collar of shiny South Sea pearls that glowed softly, matching the cold look in her eyes. I’d guess she’s between 65-70 years old.

Flanking her were her daughters, Octavia and Serena.

Octavia, the older sister, leaned casually against the doorframe, her slim figure in a striking red dress that hugged her perfectly. She looked at me with a cool, assessing gaze, as if I were a tiny smudge on a mostly perfect window.

Serena, the younger, was wrapped in shimmering pale gold silk, each step graceful and deliberate. She didn't bother to look at me; instead, she was absorbed in her phone, her chin tilted just right, as if she believed my presence was of little importance.

Their arrival was fragrant—an expense-laden blend of lilies and a touch of icy judgment trailing behind them. Their appearance felt like a direct reminder of my recent decision not to attend the Claudius family gala—a choice that, in their world, was almost unforgivable.

I took a glance at Lady Beatrice.

"Good morning, ma’am."

She didn't reply with a greeting but adjusted her elegant handbag’s clasp, her eyes evaluating me like a jeweler inspecting a precious stone.

Octavia kept her gaze fixed on me, storing my appearance in her long-term memory—probably expecting me to greet her as well but I didn't.

“Roman," Beatrice called, her voice sharp yet smooth. “There was quite a buzz last night. People noticed the space beside you. My friends are asking when the 'miracle' of a grandchild will finally happen. And is she the woman who was supposed to join the family party?”

“Mom, we’ll talk about this later," Roman cut in, his voice firm and loud in the small room. He stood tall, casting a protective shadow over his sisters. "Eva and I were just finishing our conversation. I suggest you enjoy some tea in the garden; we’ll join you shortly."

With a flowing, elegant movement, Beatrice rose, her demeanor regal to the end. After a slow, disdainful glance, she and her daughters swept out of the room.

The door’s soft click felt like a brief relief, yet the atmosphere remained tense, heavy with Roman’s simmering frustration.

It was clear that Roman wasn’t happy with his mother—maybe because of the question or because she hadn't called him privately. Whatever the reason, the moment was charged, and tension lingered in the air.

Roman looked back at me, casually tossing the Forever Clause onto the desk between us.

"The press expects romance. And I expect obedience. My family expects whatever they want. However, this lifetime contract is non-negotiable. However, you have the right to tell me your price."

I glanced at the paper, then at him. The hunger in my stomach had shifted into a clear, steady resolve. If I were to be a prisoner, I’d want to be worth more than just a bargain. If he wanted to bind me forever, he would need to pay the price of my soul in gold and blood.

"I’m finished fighting the contract," I said, my voice calm but firm.

He smirked, a hint of victory flashing across his handsome, yet cruel face.

"Smart move," he said. “I understand you were hesitant to accept reality in the name of true love with a dying man. Welcome to real life."

"But," I interrupted, walking toward him until only the desk kept us apart, "I won't be your 'service provider' or your 'companion.' If I am to be bound to you forever, it will be on my terms.

This relationship needs to be more than just a fake smile for the media. It needs to be clear and defined."

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. "Defined? You want a title?"

"I want a marriage," I said.

The smirk disappeared from his face, as he let out a sharp, dry laugh.

"A marriage?”, he teased. “You think I’d actually marry just because my mom wants a grandchild? Oh, I see—you’re all in this thanks to my mom giving you a hint. Now, listen, Eva, you’re a tool—a beautiful, useful tool. That's all"

"Then find another tool," I replied, my eyes fixed on his. "Because I have three conditions, that's if you want me to stay, produce your heirs, and play the role of a devoted wife until the day I die—and genuinely smile for the cameras—you will sign a new agreement. A legal, binding marriage contract in a high-profile court."

Roman’s eyes narrowed.

"And what are your terms?"

"First: You will never lay a finger on me without my clear consent. No 'marital rights beyond my consent.' No forced intimacy. And you will never cheat. If even one photo of you with another woman hits the press, the deal is over."

"And the second?" he asked softly.

"A monthly allowance. A substantial one. Deposited into a private account that you cannot access."

"That means you’ve been looking for a way out of poverty," he mocked, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "And the third?"

I leaned in closer, whispering.

"The 'Nuclear Clause.' If any part of this deal is broken—if you touch me, stray, or harm Leo—the divorce clause is triggered immediately. And at that moment, fifty percent of Roman Claudius' net worth is forfeited to me. Automatically. No legal battles. No delays."

The room grew silent, the kind that makes you feel the air is heavy. Roman looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. Then, he threw his head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh that bounced off the shelves.

"Fifty percent? You want half of the Claudius empire just to 'suffer' through living in luxury? That's insane. You’re just a commoner dreaming big."

"I’m the woman holding your reputation in my hands," I reminded him softly. "Without me, you’re the man whose fiancée got exposed to the press. If I become genuinely happy, you will remain the king of this city."

He stopped laughing, and silence filled the room—heavy and hard to breathe. He looked at the ‘Forever Clause’, then back at my determined face. He saw the strength in my eyes—the look of a woman who had nothing left to lose.

"Well," he said, "your conditions are considered, and now listen carefully: from now on, you must not tell anyone how we met—not even my mother. You are also no longer allowed to contact or see Leo. If you break this rule, Leo will pay with his life, agreed?"

“Agreed!," I said quickly.

"Fine," he whispered, almost like a curse. "We’ll see each other in court in a few days."

"But—"

Before I could say more, a lady who looked like a maid entered the room.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted, almost kneeling.” Your attention is needed by Lady Beatrice”

We found Lady Beatrice in the conservatory, surrounded by blooming orchids that looked more real than her fake smile. When Roman explained the plan, her teacup rattled against the saucer.

"A marriage contract with a fifty-percent penalty?" she gasped, her face twisting with anger. "Roman, are you out of your mind?. Is that how I married your father?. Just because I want a grandchild doesn't mean I don’t see through a gold-digger's trap. This girl is trying to set a trap! And it won’t work."

"Enough," he interrupted, anger flashing in his eyes. “Your story about my father has nothing to do with this. I’m not considering marriage just to stop the rumors or to satisfy your terms. I made my decision based on my own terms," Roman said sharply.

Beatrice looked conquered easily, turned her fierce gaze on me.

"Listen, young lady. You can walk into that court and sign those papers, but don't ever think you’re part of Claudius without giving me a grandchild. Without it, you’re just a guest here, and guests can be asked to leave anytime."

I didn't flinch, ignoring her frustration. I was about to defend myself, to make her understand how a gold-digger would have come in contact with her son, but my lips didn’t move. Why?. Because she didn't know I had been kidnapped. If she had known, she would have asked her arrogant son why he took away my peace forever.

She left us after one of her maids whispered something to her.

I saw Roman watching me as we headed back to the study. But I knew better than to try to understand a guy who doesn't respect his own mother. Whatever that look meant, wasn’t my concern. My focus was on one man who truly matters—the one I love. How can I not be lost in thoughts of Leo, unable to stop dreaming of being in his arms forever? Impossible.

“We’re going out tonight," Roman said, checking his watch.

Before I could reply, my phone rang.

LEO calling...