The Price of Obedience
1251 Words
The car was silent as a tomb.
Elara sat stiffly in the back seat of the black Rolls-Royce, her signature still drying on the contract tucked into her bag. Beside her, Cassian Vale typed away on his phone, his attention elsewhere, as if she were nothing more than a checked box in his calendar.
Her stomach twisted. She had thought signing the contract would bring relief. Instead, it made her feel hollow. Bought. Owned.
"You'll be moving into my penthouse," he said without looking up. "Tomorrow morning. Have your things ready."
Elara stared out the tinted window. "What things? You auctioned off everything I owned."
He paused, glanced at her, then returned to his phone. "Fine. We'll have a stylist handle your wardrobe. A handler will arrive at 8:00 a.m. sharp."
"A handler?"
Cassian raised a brow. “You signed a contract. I expect you to behave like it.”
There was something about his calm, emotionless tone that sent a chill racing down her spine.
“I thought I was supposed to be your fiancée,” she said. “Not your puppet.”
His gaze turned icy. “You agreed to play a role. Don’t confuse that with being an equal.”
Elara flinched but said nothing. The power imbalance was already suffocating.
They drove in silence, the city lights blurring past. Somewhere along Fifth Avenue, she worked up the nerve to ask, “Why me, really? You could’ve hired an actress. A model. Someone who’d jump at this.”
Cassian's fingers paused on his phone. “Because I need someone who looks vulnerable. Someone the public can sympathize with. You’re perfect for that.”
She bristled. “So, it’s about image.”
“It’s always about image.”
The car turned into an underground garage, sleek, dimly lit, guarded by security. Elara followed Cassian into a private elevator that opened directly into his penthouse.
When the doors slid open, she stepped into another world.
The space was massive, two stories of glass, steel, and luxury. Dark wood floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and minimalist furnishings in shades of gray and black. Everything was immaculate. Lifeless.
“You live here alone?” she asked, walking toward the window overlooking the skyline.
“Yes.”
“It feels… cold.”
Cassian’s voice came from behind her. “Good. I prefer silence.”
She turned. “You really don’t do small talk, do you?”
“I don’t pretend.”
Elara folded her arms. “Well, I guess I do. For six months, apparently.”
Cassian’s eyes flickered with something; amusement, maybe, but it was gone before she could be sure.
“You’ll stay in the guest wing,” he said, nodding toward a hallway on the right. “You’re free to roam, but stay out of my office. That’s the only rule.”
“What happens if I break it?”
He stepped closer, and for a moment, the air grew thick between them.
“Then the contract is void. And I stop protecting you.”
Her throat tightened. She turned away.
Her room was nothing short of a five-star suite. The bed was massive. The closet was already stocked with designer clothes. Shoes. Bags. Jewelry. None of it felt like hers.
She took a long, hot shower and slipped into the silk robe laid out for her.
Then she cried.
Silently. Curled on the bed with the city glittering beyond the glass.
The next morning, a woman with red lips and a sharper stare knocked precisely at 8:00 a.m.
"Ms. Quinn? I'm Sofia. I'm here to prepare you."
Elara opened the door, bleary-eyed. “Prepare me for what?”
Sofia stepped inside with military precision. “Public appearance. Gala. Tonight. First official sighting of you as Miss Quinn-Vale. You’ll be introduced as his fiancée.”
Elara’s chest tightened. “I haven’t even met his friends. His family. Nothing.”
Sofia gave a tight smile. “Cassian Vale doesn’t have friends. And as for family... you’ll understand soon enough.”
Over the next six hours, Elara was waxed, plucked, scrubbed, massaged, painted, curled, and draped in diamonds. She sat numbly as Sofia zipped her into a sleek black gown with a slit up to her thigh and heels that felt like weapons.
“You look the part,” Sofia said, stepping back.
“I feel like I’m being dressed for execution.”
“Close,” the woman replied with a smirk. “But you’re being dressed for society.”
The car ride to the gala was silent again, but this time, Cassian studied her.
“You clean up well.”
She rolled her eyes. “Try not to sound too impressed.”
“You don’t need me to be impressed,” he said, his voice low. “You need the press to be.”
They pulled up to the entrance. A swarm of cameras exploded in light. Cassian stepped out first, then turned to offer his hand.
“Smile like you’re in love,” he murmured.
She took his hand, her fingers trembling. “I don’t know how.”
His lips curved in a smirk. “Then pretend. That’s all you’re good for, remember?”
Her heart sank. But she stepped out anyway.
The crowd went wild.
Cassian Vale and his mysterious fiancée; photographed, whispered about, envied.
She stood tall, arm in his, letting the flashes blind her.
Inside, it was worse. Beautiful people with cruel eyes. Socialites with backhanded compliments. Men who looked at her like she didn’t belong. Women who looked at her like a threat.
Cassian introduced her with a cool smile. “This is Elara. My future wife.”
She heard the whispers.
Is she pregnant?
She looks like a charity case.
Why her?
A woman with platinum-blonde hair slithered up to Cassian and placed a manicured hand on his arm. “You finally caved, Cass. I thought you said love was for fools.”
His smile didn’t waver. “Still is. But this fool makes a lovely ornament, don’t you think?”
Elara stiffened.
The woman turned to her. “I’m Geneva. Cassian and I go way back. He never mentioned you.”
“I’m sure he never mentioned a lot of things,” Elara said sweetly.
Cassian’s eyes glinted.
Later, as the gala wore on, he leaned close and whispered, “Careful, Elara. You’re not here to make enemies.”
“Too late,” she whispered back. “I’m already yours.”
That night, after the limo dropped them off and the cameras disappeared, Cassian poured himself a drink and stood by the window.
“You did well,” he said without looking at her.
“I was humiliated.”
He sipped his whiskey. “That’s part of the job.”
She stared at him. “Why are you really doing this? What’s so important about a fake engagement?”
Cassian finally turned. “Because some people only trust a man in love.”
“And you’re not capable of that, are you?”
“No,” he said flatly. “And I don’t need to be. That’s why I hired you.”
Her hands clenched. “And what happens when the six months are up?”
He looked her dead in the eyes. “Then you disappear. And we both pretend this never happened.”
She nodded slowly. “Right. Like nothing ever happened.”
But deep down, in a place she didn’t want to name, something had already begun.
And pretending wouldn’t be enough.
- Writer
