Chapter 2 :The deal that changes everything
1040 Words
Her fingers trembled as she ended the call, the screen fading to black like the end of a chapter she couldn’t rewrite. Aria stared at her reflection in the darkened window—messy bun, hollow eyes, and a sheen of tears she refused to let fall.
The silence in the apartment was suffocating. Outside, the hum of Lagos traffic carried on as if her life hadn’t just changed with a single phone call.
She had made a deal with the devil.
And now he was coming to collect.
Ten minutes later, a knock echoed through her apartment. Three sharp taps—precise, calculated, like the man himself.
Aria opened the door to find a man in a black suit and sunglasses standing there, clipboard in hand.
“Miss Monroe?” he asked in a clipped tone.
She nodded.
“I’m here on behalf of Mr. Wilder. He’s asked me to escort you to his estate. You’ll be briefed along the way. Please bring only what you need. You’ll be staying for the duration of the arrangement.”
The duration.
She hated how coldly he said it, as if she’d signed up for a prison sentence and not a marriage.
Swallowing her pride and panic, Aria packed a small duffel bag—essentials only. A few clothes, her sister’s photo, and a notebook she’d scribbled dreams into back when she believed in them. Her hands trembled as she zipped it shut, each item a piece of the life she was leaving behind. The room around her felt colder now, emptier. Like it already knew she wouldn’t be coming back.
The black car waiting outside was sleek and spotless, its tinted windows hiding whatever lay ahead. A silent invitation—or maybe a warning. The ride to Wilder Estate was silent, save for the occasional buzz of a phone the driver ignored. The man never spoke, never looked her way, as if acknowledging her would make this too real. The city passed them by in flashes of movement and color, too fast to hold on to.
Aria sat with her hands clenched, staring out the window at the blur of glass towers and street vendors. Everything felt distant. Unreachable. Like she was floating toward something irreversible. The further they drove, the tighter her chest became, as if some invisible thread was pulling her away from everything she’d ever known.
When the car finally slowed, her breath caught. Her heart skipped like it knew something she didn’t.
Wilder Estate wasn’t a home—it was a fortress.
High gates framed by sculpted hedges, security cameras blinking like watchful eyes. The mansion behind them stretched wide and white, windows like polished mirrors reflecting a life she didn’t belong to. Every inch of it screamed power, secrecy, and isolation. And Aria, standing at the edge of it all, had never felt smaller.
The driver stepped out and opened the door.
She hesitated.
Then forced herself to move.
One step into the estate and the air changed—clean, cold, and too quiet. She followed the man up the steps and through doors too heavy to be welcoming.
Inside, a tall woman in a fitted black dress greeted her without a smile.
“Miss Monroe. Follow me.”
No greetings. No warmth. Just expectation.
The house was beautiful in a clinical way—marble floors, glass staircases, and art that looked too expensive to feel real. Aria’s worn sneakers squeaked as she walked.
They stopped in front of wide double doors.
“He’s waiting,” the woman said, then vanished.
Aria took a breath, then pushed the doors open.
Knox stood by the window, back turned, a glass of whiskey in hand. His navy-blue suit hugged broad shoulders, and the way he stood—so still, so unbothered—made her want to throw something.
“You’re punctual,” he said without turning.
“I figured showing up late to a business transaction would be bad form,” she replied coolly.
He turned, raising a brow at her tone. “So we’re calling it that now? A transaction?”
“Isn’t that what it is?” she countered, dropping her bag by the door. “You get your wife. I get a check.”
Knox studied her, gray eyes unreadable. “Fair enough.”
He walked to a nearby table and picked up a leather folder. “This is the contract. Read it. Sign it. Once it’s done, we proceed.”
She took it with steady hands and sat on the edge of a velvet couch. Her eyes scanned the pages:
Duration: One year
Public appearances mandatory
No s****l obligations
No emotional expectations
Payment: ₦500,000,000 in two halves
Confidentiality: Absolute
Termination clause: Only by mutual agreement or breach
Aria reached the end, hesitated, then signed.
Her pen shook only once.
Knox didn’t smile. “You’ll be moved into the guest suite tonight. Tomorrow, you’ll be introduced as my wife at the Carlton Gala. You’ll be fitted by noon. Don’t be late.”
“And after that?” she asked.
“You follow my lead. You speak when necessary. You smile like you’re in love. And you don’t fall out of line.”
“Or what?”
He stepped closer, the air tightening between them. “I chose you, Miss Monroe. That makes you useful. Don’t make me regret it.”
Something in her chest twisted, but she held his gaze.
“I didn’t come here to be afraid of you.”
“No,” Knox said softly. “You came here to survive.”
Then he turned and left the room, leaving her with a contract, a lie, and a million thoughts she couldn’t afford to feel.
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The guest room was larger than her entire apartment. White marble, silk sheets, and silence that echoed.
Aria stood in the center of it all, hugging herself.
She had signed a contract that turned her into someone’s wife.
Not because she wanted to—but because life left her no other choice.
And tomorrow, the world would meet Mrs. Aria Wilder—a title that belonged to a stranger.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
The girl staring back didn’t look scared anymore.
She looked dangerous.
- Writer
