CONTRACT OF CONVENIENCE WITH MY ENEMY.

Episode1

THE HEIRESS'S CAGE

ELENA

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, and wonder when my life became a tragedy.

The room is small. Too small for a twenty-eight-year-old woman who once dreamed of running her father's empire. The walls are pale yellow, faded from years of sunlight and neglect. The bedspread is thin, the mattress lumpy, and the only decoration is a single photograph on my nightstand—my mother and me, taken ten years ago, before the cancer ate away her cheeks and her laughter.

I reach for the photograph, my fingers tracing my mother's face. She is beautiful then. Full of life. Full of hope. Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and her smile stretches wide across her face. She has her arm around my shoulders, pulling me close like she never wants to let me go.

Now she is lying in a hospital bed three miles away, fighting for her life, struggling against the cancer that is eating her alive.

I think about how my father has been treating us since his business started struggling. It is like we have become invisible to him. Like we are nothing. He walks past me in the hallway without a word. He eats his meals alone in his study. He spends his nights on the phone, whispering deals and schemes that I am no longer allowed to hear.

His business began to fail three years ago. A series of bad investments, a lawsuit he should have settled, a shipment that never arrived. The empire he built with blood and sweat began to crumble, and with it, his love for us.

He stopped coming to dinner. He stopped asking about my mother's health. He stopped looking at me like I was his daughter and started looking at me like I was a solution to his problems.

And then I found the contract.

I remember the day clearly. It was raining outside, the kind of rain that makes the world feel gray and hopeless. My mother had come to me, her hands shaking, her face pale, and said, "Elena. You need to see this."

The contract was in my father's study, hidden beneath a stack of financial reports. I read it in the dim light of my room, my heart pounding with each word. Two years of cohabitation. Public appearances. No love.

My father was planning to sell me to the highest bidder.

I confronted him that night. I screamed, I cried, I begged him to find another way. He sat behind his desk, stone-faced, and said, "This is the only way, Elena. You will do this for your family."

"For you," I corrected. "I am doing this for you."

"I am your family," he said. "And I need you to do this."

I walked out of his study that night, vowing never to speak to him again. But I stayed. I stayed because my mother needed me. Because she was sick and scared and alone, and I was the only one who cared.

Now I am trapped. Bound by a contract I have not yet signed but feel crushing me from all sides.

I curse the day I found out about my father's plan to sell me off to his business associate's son to retain his company. I curse his business failure. I curse his business associate, Arthur Major, with his fat fingers and greedy eyes. I curse my mother's cancer, the disease that is stealing her from me one day at a time. I curse my father's plan for me, the marriage that will rob me of everything I have ever wanted.

"Hmm," I hiss through my teeth, my anger rising like a wave.

I think about the whole arrangement. My father's failing company. My mother's failing health. The conditions of the marriage contract will trap me for two years.

I think about Julian Major, the cold, arrogant heir who has already agreed to the arrangement. I have not met him yet, but I have heard stories. He is ruthless. Calculated. A man who gets what he wants.

And apparently, he wants me.

I hate him. I hate him for agreeing to this arrangement. I hate him for being part of the plan that is destroying my life.

I break down and cry.

The tears come fast and hard, streaming down my cheeks like a river I cannot stop. I bury my face in my hands and sob, my shoulders shaking with the weight of everything I have been carrying.

"Why me?" I whispered to the empty room. "Why me, Creator? What did I do to deserve this? What did my mother do?"

I cough, my throat raw from crying. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, but the tears keep coming.

"Why? Why? Why?"

A knock on the door interrupts my spiraling thoughts.

"Elena?" A soft voice calls from the other side. "Elena, are you okay?"

It is Angel, my helper. She has been with our family for years, ever since my mother took her in as a young girl. She is more than a maid. She is family.

I do not answer. I cannot find the words.

The door opens slowly, and Angel steps inside. Her eyes widen when she sees me crying on the bed.

"Elena!" She rushes to my side, her hands gripping my shoulders. "What happened? What is wrong?"

I shake my head, unable to speak.

Angel's eyes search for mine, and then she sees the photograph in my hands. She understands.

"Elena, please," she says, her voice urgent. "Do not harm yourself. Do not kill yourself. Your mother is already suffering too much. You cannot do this to her."

I pull my hand away from her grip, my voice rising. "What my father did is wrong! He is selling me like I am a piece of property! How can he do this to me? How can he do this to my mother?"

My voice is a little too high as I get up and back toward the other side of the room. I cannot look at Angel. I cannot look at anyone.

"Elena, please calm down," Angel says, her voice gentle but firm. "I understand your predicament. I understand that a man from nowhere is buying you without love. I know it is not fair."

I laugh—a bitter, broken sound. "The hell? You understand? How can you possibly understand what I am going through?"

Angel steps in front of me, her voice low but with a hint of worry. "Elena, listen to me. I know this is hard. I know it feels like the end of the world. But you have to remember something."

"What?" I snap. "What could possibly make this better?"

Angel's eyes meet mine, steady and calm. "You have power, Elena. You have always had power. People used to love you. People used to love staying with you. You have a light inside you that draws people in. That same light might save you with your contract husband."

I stare at her, my anger flickering. "You think I want to marry him? You think I want to be with a man who looks at me like I am a possession?"

"I am not saying you want to marry him," Angel says softly. "I am saying you might have a chance. A chance to make something good out of this terrible situation."

I shook my head, fresh tears spilling down my cheeks. "I do not want to marry like that. I believe love comes first. Love before marriage. That is how it should be."

Angel sighs, her voice patient. "In the olden days, that was how marriage was done. Fathers got wives for their sons without them knowing each other. And eventually, they fell in love. They built families. They found happiness."

I glare at her. "That time and now are not the same. Things have changed. People have changed. I will not be sold like a cow in the marketplace."

Angel sits beside me on the bed, her voice soft and coaxing. "Mija, turn to face me."

I hesitate, but something in her voice makes me turn.

"Your mother is very sick," Angel says, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "There is no money for her treatment. Your father is poor now, and he despises your mother too. He does not care about her. He does not care about you."

I feel the tears threatening to spill again. "You are manipulative, Angel."

"I am not trying to manipulate you," she says gently. "I am trying to make you see the truth. Help will come for your mother without their help. Your mother will not die. I believe that."

"Then why are you telling me this?" I whisper.

Angel stands up, her voice firmer now. "Do this for your mother's sake. Because this world we are in now is bigger than what we think it is. No help comes without connection. You need connections to survive. You need people who can open doors for you."

I look at her, my heart pounding. "You want me to sacrifice my happiness for money?"

Angel's voice is steady. "You will not have that happiness if your mother dies."

I shook my head, my voice trembling. "I reject it. I reject this entire arrangement.”

Angel nods slowly, her eyes filled with understanding. She does not argue. She does not push. She just waits.

I take a shaky breath, my hands trembling at my sides. The weight of everything crashes down on me again—my father's betrayal, my mother's illness, the contract that looms over my future like a dark cloud.

"Angel," I say, my voice breaking. "You are making me overwhelmed."

She steps closer, her eyes soft and patient. "I know, Mija. I know."

I look at her, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I will sign the contract for the marriage. I will do it. I will marry that stranger to save my mother from dying of cancer."

Angel's face transforms. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and a smile breaks across her face like sunshine after a storm.

"Oh, Elena," she whispers. She opens her arms and pulls me into a tight hug. "You will not regret doing this for your beloved mother. She has sacrificed so much for you. Now it is your turn."

I cried into her shoulder, my body shaking with sobs. "You are right, dear. You are right."

We held each other for a long moment, the silence filled with nothing but our quiet tears. And then, slowly, the tears turn into something else.

A sniffle. A giggle. A shared laugh that bubbles up from somewhere deep inside us.

We pulled back, looking at each other, and we both burst out laughing. It is a strange sound—tears and laughter mixing together like rain and sunshine. It is the sound of two sisters who have been through hell and are still standing.

Angel wipes her eyes, still laughing. "If your mother found out about this sacrifice, she would be indebted to you for life. She will never forget what you did for her."

I stop laughing immediately. "What is wrong with you, Angel? Please do not mention this to my mother. She will not agree with me to do that because of her health issues."

Angel grins, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She will find out eventually. Nothing is hidden under the sun."

"She will not find out," I say firmly, pointing a finger at her. "And if she does, I will hold you responsible."

Angel laughs, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Fine. I accept that responsibility. But you know I am right. Your mother will be so proud of you, Elena."

I roll my eyes, but a small smile tugs at my lips. "Proud of me for selling myself to a stranger? That is not something to be proud of."

"You are not selling yourself," Angel says gently. "You are saving your mother. There is a difference. A big difference."

I sigh, looking down at my hands. "My father will think he has won. He will think he has broken me. But no. My mother and I will get back to him. He will not get away with this."

Angel nods, her expression serious. "Forget your father now. Focus on the marriage and your mother recovering first. After that, we will come back for your father. One step at a time."

I reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. "You are a blessing to me. I bless the Lord for crossing our paths together."

Angel's eyes glisten. "Since my parents died and your mother took me as her eldest daughter and treated me right, I will not take it for granted. I owe her everything."

"Sisters for life," I whisper.

"Sisters for life!" she shouts, her voice echoing through the room.

We hug each other again, holding on tight. And for the first time in days, I felt something I thought I had lost forever.

Hope.