Chapter Two:The Contract
1977 Words
The rain was gone by morning, but the city remained wrapped in gray.Water dripped steadily from rooftops while traffic crawled through the streets beneath Silverwood University like a river of steel and impatience. Students crossed campus beneath expensive umbrellas, carrying coffee cups and laughing loudly about parties, exams, and relationships the ordinary chaos of privileged lives untouched by survival.
Near the back of a crowded lecture hall, Ethan Vale sat motionless, staring at nothing,Or trying to.
His mind kept returning to the same sentence from the previous night.
You and Vivian will marry.
Even now, it sounded absurd.
Like the beginning of a scandalous tabloid story.
Or the kind of twisted arrangement wealthy families invented when they ran out of normal ways to control people.
His phone buzzed against the desk.
Unknown number.
Again.
Ethan already knew who it would be before answering.
“Hello.”
“A car will arrive for you at six this evening,” a calm female voice informed him. “You’ll review the marriage contract tonight.”
The call disconnected immediately.
No goodbye.
No room for refusal.
Ethan lowered the phone slowly and leaned back in his chair.
Marriage contract.
The phrase alone felt suffocating.
Someone dropped heavily into the seat beside him.
“You look like you just attended your own funeral.”
Ethan glanced sideways.
Lucas Reed.
Best friend. Chronic disaster. Professional annoyance.
Lucas wore a varsity jacket over a white shirt buttoned incorrectly, as though he’d dressed in complete darkness. His brown hair was hopelessly messy, and his expression carried the reckless energy of someone who had never once taken life seriously.
“You skipped breakfast again,” Lucas observed. “That’s the first symptom of emotional collapse.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s exactly what emotionally unstable people say before writing poetry.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead tiredly.
“Can you be quiet for ten seconds?”
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
“Something happened.”
“No.”
“You got rejected?”
“No.”
“You failed an exam?”
“No.”
“Your landlord discovered you’re broke?”
“That’s been public information for years.”
Lucas studied him carefully.
“Then what is it?”
Ethan hesitated.
He should have stayed quiet.
Instead, exhaustion betrayed him.
“I’m getting married.”
Lucas blinked once.
Twice.
Then burst into laughter loud enough to echo through the lecture hall.
Several students turned immediately.
Ethan stared at him blankly.
Lucas slowly stopped laughing.
“…Wait. You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
Ethan looked at him.
Understanding hit instantly.
Lucas slapped the desk hard enough to make people jump.
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Vivian Laurent?!”
Half the lecture hall turned around.
Ethan lowered his voice sharply.
“Can you stop yelling like a dying animal?”
Lucas leaned closer in horror.
“The Vivian Laurent?”
“There’s only one woman on campus who looks capable of ruining lives professionally.”
Lucas looked emotionally overwhelmed.
“You’re either the luckiest man alive or catastrophically doomed.”
“Probably the second one.”
For once, Lucas stopped joking.
“You okay?”
The question irritated Ethan more than it should have.
Mostly because he genuinely didn’t know the answer.
Before he could respond, the atmosphere inside the lecture hall shifted.
People straightened instinctively.
Conversations quieted.
Vivian Laurent entered the room.
As always, attention followed her effortlessly.
Today she wore a fitted black coat over a silk cream blouse tucked neatly into tailored high waisted trousers. Elegant. Precise. Untouchable. Her dark hair rested over one shoulder while silver earrings caught the pale morning light.
Then her eyes found Ethan.
Immediate irritation flashed across her expression.
Without hesitation, she walked directly toward him.
Lucas whispered urgently, “My survival instincts are screaming right now.”
Vivian stopped beside Ethan’s desk.
“We need to talk.”
Lucas stood instantly.
“I suddenly remembered I value my life.”
And with that, he vanished without dignity.
Ethan leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You enjoy terrifying people?”
“No.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Vivian ignored the comment.
Her expression remained cold, but there was strain beneath it now. Tightness around her eyes. Exhaustion hidden beneath composure.
“My father prepared the documents already,” she said quietly. “You’ll sign tonight.”
“You sound thrilled.”
“I sound tired.”
Fair point.
Several students nearby were openly staring now.
Rumors traveled through Silverwood faster than wildfire.
Vivian noticed the attention immediately.
Then, without warning, she rested one hand lightly on Ethan’s shoulder.
The room froze.
Ethan looked up at her in surprise.
Vivian turned toward the watching students and smiled sweetly.
“See you later, darling.”
Silence swallowed the room whole.
Then she walked away calmly, heels clicking softly against the floor.
The second she disappeared through the doorway,,,,The lecture hall exploded.
“What was that?”
“Did Vivian Laurent just touch him?”
“They’re dating?!”
“No chance.”
Ethan closed his eyes briefly.
His peaceful life was officially dead.
******
By evening, Ethan stood once again inside the Laurent Estate.
This time, the place felt less impressive and more dangerous.
A servant guided him upstairs toward a private office overlooking the estate gardens. Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the fading sunset while towering bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather bound volumes that probably cost more than his apartment.
Vivian was already waiting inside.
She didn’t look at him immediately.
A thick black folder rested on the table between them.
The contract.
Ethan sat across from her in silence.
Neither spoke for several long moments.
Finally, Vivian slid the folder toward him.
“Read carefully.”
Ethan opened it slowly.
Page after page greeted him.
Legal obligations.
Media expectations.
Public appearances.
Financial arrangements.
Behavioral restrictions.
It looked less like a marriage agreement and more like terms for a corporate merger.
Then he paused.
“No divorce for one year?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Mandatory shared residence?”
“Yes.”
“Public displays of affection when necessary?”
Vivian’s expression hardened shyly with visible disgust.
“Yes.”
Ethan let out a quiet breath through his nose.
“This is insane.”
“You think I disagree?”
He continued reading.
No public scandals.
No romantic involvement with others.
Protect the Laurent family image.
Attend social functions together.
Smile for cameras.
Pretend happiness.
The deeper he read, the tighter his chest became.
Then Vivian spoke again.
“There are additional conditions.”
Ethan looked up.
“You will not touch me without permission.”
He blinked once.
“Trust me,” he replied dryly, “that wasn’t my greatest concern.”
Her eyes narrowed immediately.
“You’re irritating.”
“You’re controlling.”
“You’re poor.”
“You already used that one.”
A dangerous silence settled between them.
But Ethan was beginning to notice something.
Vivian insulted people most when she felt trapped.
Vivian immediately crossed her arms tightly.
“This arrangement changes nothing between us.”
“Meaning?”
“I still dislike you.”
“That’s comforting.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
For a brief moment, neither looked away.
And there it was again.
That strange tension.
Not attraction.
Not yet.
Something sharper.
Awareness.
The dangerous kind.
Vivian broke eye contact first.
“Your room is upstairs,” she said coolly.
Ethan frowned.
“My room?”
“You’ll stay here when appearances require it.”
“You expect me to live in this palace occasionally?”
“You should sound more grateful.”
“I spent most of my childhood hearing neighbors threaten each other through paper thin walls,” Ethan replied. “Forgive me if luxury feels emotionally overwhelming.”
Something flickered across her expression.
Almost amusement.
Then she stood abruptly.
“Come with me.”
****
The guest room was larger than Ethan’s entire apartment.
Dark wooden furniture gleamed beneath soft lighting. A king sized bed dominated the center of the room, facing floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city skyline. Beyond the glass, distant thunder rolled across clouds still heavy from yesterday’s storm.
Ethan stared quietly.
Vivian leaned against the doorway.
“You can stop looking shocked.”
“I’m calculating how many organs I’d need to sell to afford one lamp.”
“Probably all of them.”
Ethan smirked faintly.
Vivian looked annoyed that he found anything amusing.
A servant entered carrying extra pillows.
Vivian pointed calmly toward the floor.
“He can sleep there.”
Ethan looked at her slowly.
“I’m sorry?”
“The floor.”
“You’re serious.”
“You’re lucky I’m allowing you inside the room.”
The servant immediately escaped before the argument escalated.
Ethan stared at the pillows.
Then at the enormous bed.
Then back at Vivian.
Finally, without a word, he walked past her and sat directly on the mattress.
Vivian blinked.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping.”
“Not there.”
Ethan leaned comfortably against the headboard.
“I’m poor,” he said evenly. “Not homeless.”
For the first time since meeting him, Vivian looked genuinely speechless.
It lasted approximately three seconds.
“That’s my bed.”
“And this is technically our fake marriage.”
“You are unbelievably shameless.”
“You threw decorative pillows at me like an offended queen.”
Vivian grabbed one instantly and hurled it at his face.
Ethan caught it easily.
Then another came.
And another.
By the fourth pillow, he was openly laughing.
Vivian froze slightly.
The sound caught her off guard.
Ethan rarely laughed fully.
But when he did, his entire face changed.
Softer.
Warmer.
Dangerously attractive.
Vivian realized she was staring and immediately looked away.
“i***t,” she muttered.
Ethan placed the pillows beside him.
“You insult people constantly.”
“You deserve it.”
“You know, normal people usually start conversations with hello.”
“You are not normal people.”
“That sentence made absolutely no sense.”
“I don’t care.”
Silence settled again afterward.
But strangely
It wasn’t uncomfortable.
Outside the windows, the city shimmered beneath scattered rainlight while distant thunder rolled softly across the skyline.
Vivian moved toward the dresser and removed her earrings carefully.
Without the public mask, Ethan noticed the exhaustion beneath her composure again.
The second she stopped performing perfection
She looked tired.
Not socially tired.
Soul-deep tired.
“You can still refuse this,” Ethan said quietly.
Her hands paused briefly.
“No.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
Vivian laughed softly, though there was no amusement in it.
“Happiness has never mattered much in families like mine.”
That answer revealed more than she intended.
Ethan looked away first.
Maybe they were both prisoners here.
A few minutes later, Vivian disappeared into the bathroom.
Ethan exhaled slowly and rubbed his face.
What exactly was his life becoming?
His phone vibrated.
A message from his mother.
Are you okay?
Ethan stared at the screen for several long seconds before typing back.
Yeah. Just tired.
He didn’t mention the marriage.
Didn’t mention the contract.
Didn’t mention that powerful strangers now controlled his future.
Because saying it aloud would make everything real.
The bathroom door opened again.
Vivian stepped out wearing loose black sleep clothes instead of her usual elegant armor. Simpler. Softer. Human.
The realization struck Ethan unexpectedly hard.
Vivian noticed him looking.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Then stop staring.”
“You’re impossible to talk to.”
“You’re still on my bed.”
Ethan ignored her.
Vivian climbed carefully onto the opposite side of the mattress, maintaining enough distance to suggest he carried some highly contagious disease.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD