THE HUSBAND I DIDN’T CHOOSE
1112 Words
The pen was still in my hand when Damian Blackwood took the contract from me.
He looked at my signature for several seconds.
Then he closed the folder.
“It's done.”
Two words.
That was all it took to change my life.
I stood there, suddenly unsure of what I had expected him to do. Shake my hand? Congratulate me? Smile?
He did none of those things.
Instead, he pressed a button on his desk.
“Mr. Cole.”
A moment later, a tall man in a dark suit entered.
“Sir.”
“Take Mrs. Blackwood home.”
I almost choked.
“Excuse me?”
Damian's eyes lifted toward me.
“Your things will be collected this afternoon.”
“My things?”
“You're moving into the Blackwood residence.”
“I never agreed to that.”
“You agreed to live as my wife.”
“For twelve months.”
“Yes.”
I folded my arms.
“And you're already giving me orders?”
His expression didn't change.
“I'm giving you information.”
“There's a difference.”
For the first time, something shifted in his eyes.
Not anger.
Interest.
As if he'd expected me to be frightened and was mildly surprised that I wasn't.
“You'll learn quickly,” he said.
“Learn what?”
“How my world works.”
I stared at him.
“I don't want your world.”
“No one ever does.”
He walked toward the window.
“But once you're inside it, leaving isn't always your decision.”
A chill moved down my spine.
Before I could ask what he meant, Mr. Cole opened the door.
“Mrs. Blackwood.”
I hated the way the name sounded.
Too permanent.
Too real.
I walked past him.
At the elevator, I turned around.
Damian was still standing by the window, looking out over the city.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
He looked at me.
“My daughter stays with me.”
There was no hesitation.
“Of course.”
“And nobody comes near her without my permission.”
His gaze hardened slightly.
“Agreed.”
I nodded.
That was the only part of this arrangement that mattered.
The Blackwood residence was not a house.
It was a fortress disguised as a mansion.
Black iron gates opened before the car reached them. Security cameras followed our movement. Men in dark clothing stood discreetly around the grounds.
I stared through the window.
“What exactly does your husband do?”
Mr. Cole's hands remained on the steering wheel.
“You signed the contract.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
“No.”
I sighed.
Apparently, silence was a family tradition.
The mansion appeared beyond a long line of trees.
It was beautiful.
And somehow terrifying.
Mia was waiting inside with a nurse I'd never seen before.
The moment she spotted me, she ran.
“Mom!”
I dropped to my knees and caught her.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
She hugged me tightly.
Then she looked over my shoulder.
“Is that the house?”
I nodded.
Her eyes widened.
“Are we rich now?”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
“No.”
She looked around.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure.”
Then she noticed the man standing several feet away.
Damian.
He had arrived without me noticing.
Mia studied him.
He studied her.
Neither spoke.
Finally, she asked,
“Are you Mom's husband?”
I closed my eyes.
Children had a talent for walking directly into uncomfortable conversations.
Damian crouched slightly so they were closer to the same height.
“Yes.”
Mia considered this.
“Are you nice?”
Mr. Cole suddenly became very interested in the floor.
Damian's expression remained perfectly serious.
“I try to be.”
Mia looked at me.
“He doesn't look nice.”
I nearly laughed.
Damian actually looked amused.
“She's observant.”
“She gets that from me.”
“I noticed.”
His eyes briefly met mine.
I looked away first.
That evening, I discovered my room.
It was larger than my entire apartment.
There was a balcony overlooking the gardens, a sitting area, a dressing room, and a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a hotel.
My suitcase sat neatly beside the bed.
Everything had been unpacked.
Everything except one thing.
A photograph of Mia and me.
I picked it up.
Someone had placed it on the bedside table.
I stared at it.
I hadn't packed it.
“Who moved this?”
No answer.
I turned.
Damian stood in the doorway.
“You didn't.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I asked the staff to make the room feel like yours.”
I looked back at the photograph.
“You've been investigating me for a while, haven't you?”
“Yes.”
The honesty surprised me.
“How long?”
“Six months.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Something in his expression changed.
The calm disappeared.
“What happened?” I asked.
He stepped into the hallway and answered.
I couldn't hear the other person's voice.
But I heard his response.
“Lock the east gate.”
A pause.
“Immediately.”
Another pause.
His jaw tightened.
“Do not let anyone inside.”
He ended the call.
I stood frozen.
“What is it?”
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
“That sounds like something I need to worry about.”
He looked at me.
For the first time since I'd met him, I saw something beneath the cold control.
Concern.
Not for himself.
For us.
“Stay inside tonight,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because someone has been watching this house.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
He turned to leave.
“Damian.”
He stopped.
I had never called him by his first name before.
He looked back.
“What?”
“Is my daughter safe?”
His answer came immediately.
“Yes.”
Then, more quietly:
“As long as she is under my protection.”
The door closed.
I stood alone in the enormous room.
Outside, the mansion lights illuminated the gardens.
Everything looked peaceful.
But somewhere beyond those gates, someone was watching.
And for the first time, I wondered whether the contract I'd signed hadn't just bought my daughter's future.
Maybe it had also put a target on her back.
And I had just brought her into the middle of Damian Blackwood's war.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD