Chapter two : the application
972 Words
The moment Elena closed her bedroom door behind her, the noise from downstairs faded away.
Her room was small compared to the rest of the house.
While Amaya’s bedroom occupied nearly half of the second floor, Elena had been given one of the smallest rooms in the house—a simple space with a single bed, a desk by the window, a bookshelf, and pale cream walls.
She didn’t mind.
It was the only place where she could be alone.
Dropping onto her desk chair, Elena opened her laptop.
For a few seconds, she stared at the screen.
Then she typed the words she’d been thinking about ever since she left the living room.
Blackthorne Marriage Competition Application.
Within seconds, dozens of articles appeared.
News websites.
Blogs.
Social media posts.
Videos.
Everyone seemed to be talking about the same thing.
The world’s most eligible billionaire was looking for a wife.
Elena clicked on the official website.
A black-and-gold page appeared.
Elegant.
Expensive.
At the center of the screen was a photograph of Damian Blackthorne.
Elena froze.
Even through a screen, the man was intimidating.
His dark hair was neatly styled, his sharp jawline perfectly defined. Broad shoulders stretched beneath a tailored black suit that probably cost more than most people’s annual salaries.
But it wasn’t his appearance that caught her attention.
It was his eyes.
Cold.
Unreadable.
Dangerous.
They were the eyes of a man who was used to being obeyed.
The eyes of someone who never accepted the word no.
According to his profile, Damian Blackthorne was thirty-two years old.
Founder of Blackthorne Global Holdings.
Owner of countless companies.
One of the wealthiest men in the world.
The articles described him as brilliant, disciplined, and powerful.
Yet very little was known about his private life.
No scandals.
No relationships.
No public romances.
Nothing.
As if the man existed behind an invisible wall.
Elena continued scrolling.
Soon, photographs of Blackthorne Estate filled her screen.
Her eyes widened.
The mansion looked more like a palace than a home.
Built on a secluded cliff overlooking the sea, the estate stretched across acres of private land.
Towering black gates guarded the entrance.
Elegant gardens surrounded the property.
Fountains sparkled beneath golden lights.
A massive driveway curved toward the main building.
The mansion itself was breathtaking.
Floor-to-ceiling windows.
Grand balconies.
Stone pillars.
Luxurious outdoor terraces.
An enormous ballroom.
Private libraries.
Indoor pools.
A private cinema.
Even a helicopter landing pad.
The estate looked like something from a dream.
Or perhaps a fairy tale.
The website displayed the competition details below.
Elena carefully read every requirement.
Full Name
She typed:
Elena Grace Vale.
Age
Twenty-six
Current Address
She entered her location.
Education
Occupation
Personal Interests
One by one, she completed every section.
The questions seemed ordinary enough.
Some asked about personality.
Others asked about future goals.
A few were surprisingly personal.
What motivates you?
What is your greatest fear?
Her fingers lingered over the keyboard.
Then she continued.
Nearly an hour later, the application was complete.
All that remained was the submit button.
Elena stared at it.
Her heart raced.
This was ridiculous.
Thousands of women were applying.
Women who were prettier.
Richer.
More confident.
More experienced.
Women who actually belonged in Damian Blackthorne’s world.
Not someone like her.
Still…
What did she have to lose?
Taking a deep breath, Elena clicked.
Application Submitted Successfully.
A confirmation email arrived seconds later.
Elena stared at the screen.
It was done.
There was no turning back now.
⸻
Hundreds of miles away, inside Blackthorne Estate, another conversation was taking place.
The mansion was even more impressive in person.
Crystal chandeliers illuminated enormous hallways.
Rare artwork decorated the walls.
Marble floors reflected the golden lighting overhead.
Security guards stood at every entrance.
Every corner radiated wealth, power, and control.
Inside a private office overlooking the sea, Damian Blackthorne sat behind a large black desk.
The room fell silent whenever he entered.
It always did.
At thirty-two years old, Damian possessed the presence of a man far older than his age.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he carried himself with effortless authority.
His dark hair was perfectly styled.
His features were sharp and striking.
A faint scar near his jaw only added to the dangerous aura surrounding him.
The expensive black suit he wore fit him perfectly.
Yet nothing about his appearance was as intimidating as his gaze.
His eyes were cold.
Calculating.
The eyes of a predator observing everything around him.
People often said Damian rarely raised his voice.
He didn’t need to.
One look was usually enough.
Across from him stood his manager, Victor Kane.
Victor held a tablet containing the latest numbers.
“The applications continue to increase.”
Damian remained focused on the documents before him.
“How many?”
“Sir, the applications have crossed two hundred and fifty thousand.”
For the first time, Damian’s expression changed.
Not surprise.
Annoyance.
The number was becoming excessive.
He closed the file in front of him and rose from his chair.
The movement alone was enough to make Victor straighten.
Damian walked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the dark sea below the cliffs.
His hands slipped into the pockets of his tailored black trousers.
For several moments, he said nothing.
The office remained silent.
Then he spoke.
“Close it.”
Victor blinked.
“Sir?”
“ okay sir “ he responded immediately
Damian turned around.
The light from the windows cast shadows across his sharp features, making him appear even more intimidating.
“We don’t need hundreds of thousands of applicants.”
“No, sir.”
“I want fifty.”
Noted “ victor said firmly and understanding
“ you know what to do right “Damian asked with cold gaze
“ yes sir “ and Damien wave his hand dismissing
The room felt silent
Few days later ;
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