The Orphan Bride Of The Town's Richest Man

THE CONDITIONS

EPISODE 6

The ink touched the paper.

Freya Carter.

My signature looked shaky. Like me.

I slid the contract back across the table.

Damien didn’t touch it.

He just stared at my hand. Like he couldn’t believe I actually did it.

"Good," he said. Voice flat. "Legal will send you the copies."

I stood up. My legs were trembling.

"Wait," I said.

He froze. "What?"

I took a breath. "If I’m going to be your wife for 1 year... I have conditions."

His eyes narrowed. "You’re not in a position to—"

"I am," I cut him off. "Because if you wanted a maid, you would’ve hired one.

You want a wife. So you’ll listen."

For the first time, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Talk."

---

Condition One:

"No lies. Not to me. Not about us.

You don’t have to love me. But don’t pretend."

He looked away. "Fine."

Condition Two:

"I keep working. I’m not a decoration.

I’ll go to events. I’ll play the part. But in the morning, I’m still Freya.

And I won’t quit the community center."

He frowned. "The orphanage?"

I nodded. "They need me."

A pause. "Fine."

Condition Three:

My voice dropped. "You don’t touch me.

Not unless I say so.

This is a contract, Mr. Blackwood. Not a marriage."

The room went silent.

Damien’s jaw ticked.

For 9 years he’d watched me.

Now I was telling him he couldn’t have me.

"Deal," he said finally.

But his eyes said something else.

Challenge accepted.

---

He stood and walked to the window.

Hands in his pockets. Back to me.

The Damien everyone knew was back. Cold. Distant.

But I saw it.

His other hand.

Clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

He was nervous.

"One more thing," I said softly.

He didn’t turn.

"Thank you.

For the hospital. For the apartment. For 9 years."

His shoulders stiffened.

He didn’t answer.

Because Damion Blackwood doesn’t say thank you.

He signs checks.

And I just became the most expensive check he’s ever written.

---

Outside, his driver was waiting.

He opened the door for me.

"Where to, Mrs. Blackwood?"

Mrs. Blackwood.

The words tasted fake.

"Home," I said. "For now."

As the car pulled away, I looked up at the Blackwood Tower.

50 floors of glass. And one man inside, alone.

I just signed my name to survive.

But somewhere, deep down...

I think I also signed it because of a boy who once watched a girl scrub floors in the rain.