Chapter 3: The Signature
1029 Words
Don’t marry Lucien Kingston.
The message glowed on my screen like a warning from fate.
My thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Who is this?
I pressed send.
The reply never went through.
Message failed.
I tried calling instead.
“The number you have dialed is unavailable.”
A chill crept down my spine.
Whoever had sent the message wanted me frightened…
But they didn’t want a conversation.
“Sienna?”
I quickly locked my phone and looked up.
Dad stood in the doorway, his jacket draped over one arm. His face looked older than it had that morning.
“You haven’t gone home?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
His eyes drifted to the contract still lying on his desk.
Neither of us spoke.
The silence said everything.
He walked over and rested a hand on the leather chair he’d occupied for almost three decades.
“I remember the day we bought this office.”
A sad smile tugged at his lips.
“Your mother insisted the windows were too big.”
I smiled despite myself.
“She said they’d distract you.”
“They did.”
His laugh was soft.
“She was usually right.”
The smile faded as quickly as it came.
“I keep thinking about what she’d tell me if she were here.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“She’d tell you to stop blaming yourself.”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“She’d tell me never to ask our daughter to sacrifice her happiness because of my mistakes.”
He crossed the room and took both my hands.
“Sienna… listen to me carefully.”
I nodded.
“If marrying Lucien Kingston is something you don’t want…”
His voice cracked.
“…then don’t do it.”
“But—”
“No.”
He squeezed my hands.
“I’ll lose the company.”
“I’ll lose this office.”
“I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for.”
His eyes glistened.
“But I won’t lose you.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“I can’t watch you throw your life away for me.”
I wrapped my arms around him.
He held me tightly, the way he had after Mom’s funeral.
For one impossible moment…
I wanted to be ten years old again.
Where fathers could fix everything.
⸻
By ten-thirty that night, I was sitting alone in my apartment.
The city lights shimmered beyond my balcony.
Normally, I loved this view.
Tonight, it felt like I was looking at someone else’s life.
Lucien’s business card rested on my coffee table.
Three handwritten words stared back at me.
Trust me, Sienna.
I picked it up.
Turned it over.
Then set it down again.
The clock ticked.
10:34.
10:41.
10:47.
At exactly ten-fifty…
Headlights swept across my curtains.
A sleek black Rolls-Royce stopped outside my building.
My heartbeat quickened.
The driver stepped out.
He didn’t ring the bell.
He didn’t call.
He simply opened the rear door…
…and waited.
As though he already knew I’d come.
I should have stayed inside.
Instead…
I grabbed my coat.
⸻
The leather seats smelled faintly of cedarwood.
Lucien sat across from me, a tablet balanced on his knee.
He didn’t look up immediately.
“You came.”
His voice was calm.
Matter-of-fact.
Almost as if he’d expected this all along.
“I haven’t agreed to anything.”
“No.”
He finally raised his eyes to mine.
“But you got into my car.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“I came for answers.”
“You’ll get some.”
“Only some?”
“The rest aren’t mine to tell.”
He closed the tablet and placed it beside him.
The city blurred past the tinted windows.
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Then he slid the contract across the seat between us.
“I’ve made one amendment.”
I frowned.
“You changed it?”
“I removed the confidentiality clause.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“If you decide to leave after one year…”
His gaze never wavered.
“…I don’t want you feeling trapped by my reputation.”
That wasn’t what I’d expected.
“You’d let me talk about everything?”
“If that’s what you wanted.”
I studied him.
Nothing about Lucien Kingston matched the ruthless billionaire the media loved to describe.
He was guarded.
Controlling.
Frustrating.
But there was something else.
Something I couldn’t quite name.
“You keep surprising me.”
“So do you.”
My brows lifted.
“How?”
“You got into the car.”
His answer came so quietly that I almost missed it.
The driver slowed to a stop outside a private courthouse.
My stomach tightened.
“This is happening tonight?”
“It has to.”
I looked at the illuminated entrance.
The building was almost empty.
Only one light remained on inside.
I turned back to Lucien.
“This is your last chance to tell me the truth.”
His jaw tightened.
“I wish it were.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a fountain pen.
Not expensive.
Not flashy.
Black.
Simple.
He placed it gently on top of the contract.
“If you sign…”
His voice dropped lower.
“…I will spend every day of this marriage proving that you made the right decision.”
“And if I don’t?”
For the first time…
Lucien looked away.
“I’ll never ask you again.”
The sincerity in those six words caught me completely off guard.
He wasn’t threatening me.
He wasn’t begging.
He was giving me a choice.
A real one.
My fingers closed around the pen.
I looked at the signature line.
Then at the man sitting opposite me.
Nothing about tonight made sense.
But one thing did.
If I walked away…
My father would lose everything by midnight.
If I signed…
My life would belong to a stranger.
The pen hovered over the page.
Lucien said nothing.
He simply watched me.
Waiting.
The tip of the pen touched the paper.
- Writer
