The first rule
811 Words
The ink was still wet.
Amara’s signature stared back at her like a silent warning on the thick ivory paper that lay between her trembling hands.
It was done.
One year. A deal with the devil. Her soul—signed over to a man who didn’t believe in hearts.
Damon Lancaster.
He hadn’t said a word since the contract was signed. Not one glance, not a twitch of emotion. He stood by the window again, staring out over the city as if it belonged to him.
Because it did.
Everything about him reeked of dominance. The way he stood, the way the world seemed to hush when he entered a room—even the air around him obeyed.
“Claire will prepare the documents,” he said finally, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “And someone from legal will deliver your copy tonight.”
Amara swallowed hard. “And my sister?”
“You’ll be wired the full amount in two hours,” he replied. “The hospital bill will be handled. She won’t want for anything while you’re under contract.”
Amara exhaled shakily, emotion flooding her chest.
But before she could whisper a thank-you, his head turned slightly.
“I didn’t say you could speak.”
Her mouth closed immediately.
His eyes met hers—cold, sharp, unreadable. “Rule one,” he said. “You speak when I speak to you. No outbursts. No emotional nonsense. In public or in private.”
Amara nodded slowly.
“Rule two,” he continued. “You belong to me in name. You will wear a ring. You will act the part. And you will not embarrass me. That includes crying, talking back, or making demands.”
She clenched her jaw. “And what do I get to ask for?”
His eyes darkened slightly.
“Rule three,” he said, ignoring her question. “You will not fall in love with me.”
Amara almost laughed—but the look in his eyes made the sound die in her throat.
Was he warning her?
Or mocking her?
“You think I’d fall in love with a man who bought me?” she whispered.
He stepped closer.
“You’d be surprised what desperation breeds,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “And what weakness hides beneath pretty words.”
She looked away.
He didn’t.
“The car will pick you up at seven. You’ll be moved into my home tonight,” he said. “You’ll be briefed on how to behave, how to dress, and what you’ll be required to say during the press release. The world believes we’re engaged. Soon, they’ll believe we’re married. I won’t tolerate mistakes.”
Amara’s hands tightened around her bag. “I’m not stupid.”
His brow twitched.
“Not stupid,” he said quietly. “But naïve. We’ll fix that soon.”
He turned back to the window, dismissing her like a servant.
The meeting was over.
She stood there for a moment, unsure whether to speak or just walk out.
“Go,” he said, without turning.
And so she did.
---
[Scene Break – That Evening]
The dress they gave her was too tight.
Too expensive.
Too... not her.
Amara stared at herself in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back. She’d worn cheap jeans her entire life—never silk. Never diamonds. Now, she stood in the middle of a mansion so large it could house everyone in her old neighborhood.
The front door opened behind her with a soft click.
She turned just in time to see Damon walk in.
He wore a black suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the edge of a tattoo inked across his collarbone. He looked like a villain in a dream—too polished, too perfect, too impossible to understand.
“Take the ring,” he said, holding out a velvet box.
She opened it.
The diamond was heavy. Ice-cold. Just like him.
“This is your room,” he added, nodding toward a door down the hall. “We don’t share space. We don’t share beds. And if anyone asks, we’re in love. Madly. Desperately. Convincingly.”
Amara nodded, but her throat tightened.
The door to her new room creaked open, and she stepped inside.
It smelled like money. Cold marble floors. Velvet furniture. No warmth. No life.
Just like him.
Her phone buzzed.
It was a message from the hospital.
"Payment confirmed. Surgery scheduled. Thank you, Ms. Blake."
Tears rushed to her eyes.
But she remembered rule one.
No emotions. No crying.
So she stared at the floor, swallowed the lump in her throat, and sat on the edge of the empty bed.
She had saved her sister.
But in the process...
She had sold herself to a man who didn’t believe in saving anything.
- Writer
