Bound by Contract, Freed by Love

Chapter 3

Harper splashed water on her face in an attempt to shake off the grogginess. Her mind raced with confusion and disbelief.

"What is he thinking?" She questioned herself.

She stepped out of the bathroom, still wearing Dylan's oversized shirt, and found him waiting in the living room. There was this impatience about him.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, his tone oddly gentle compared to his usual arrogance.

Harper nodded, her head still pounding from the remnants of the alcohol.

"Yes, thank you."

Dylan leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her.

"Good. Now, about my question..."

"You must be joking," Harper replied, sitting down far from him.

"Maybe you shouldn't think too far. I'm not in love with you."

Harper was vexed by his words.

"I... I can't possibly marry you. I barely even know you."

Dylan chuckled softly.

"It's not about what you want, Harper. It's about a mutually beneficial arrangement. Think of it as a business deal."

Harper's brows furrowed in confusion.

"A business deal?"

Dylan leaned back, his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

"I have my reasons, and you have your debts. I can make those debts disappear, but in return, you become my wife."

"This sounds crazy."

"Maybe you should watch your words."

"What is this all about?"

"It's all about me, Dylan stated. And you stand a chance to clean your debts and take care of your mother."

"What is this all about?"

"My life is at risk."

"That's scary."

"Think about the offer before the day runs out. See me with your replies by evening at my office."

The room fell into a tense silence.

****

Harper entered Dylan's office, her footsteps barely making a sound on the plush carpet. He sat behind his desk, engrossed in a stack of documents, his face worn and troubled.

She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it was the right time to approach him, but she needed answers.

"Good evening, sir," she greeted, her tone polite, though she couldn't hide her concern.

Dylan shifted a document in her direction without lifting his gaze.

"That's the contract. You can go through it and sign if it's a yes."

Harper furrowed her brow, puzzled by his cold attitude. She knew their relationship was purely business, but there was no need for such frostiness.

"It's a yes, and I'll sign," she replied, choosing her words carefully.

"I'll review my copy when I get home."

Dylan's response was curt.

"Suit yourself."

As Harper signed the contract, her frustration grew. She couldn't understand why he was so cold. You'll be better off if you're nice, she thought.

"I'm done," she declared, placing the pen on the desk.

"You can leave," Dylan stated, his eyes never leaving the documents before him.

Harper picked up her copy of the contract and turned to exit his office. She had never been treated with such disrespect, and she couldn't help but think.

"Who does he think he is?"

She walked away from his office, knowing the marriage would be more challenging than she had ever imagined.

****

"It's a public marriage?" Harper's voice trembled with fury as she threw the document onto the floor.

"Harper, you need to calm down," Evie urged, her arms reaching out to comfort her friend.

"Do you understand what this means?" Harper continued, her frustration mounting.

"He's going to claim we're married, that I lost my memory, left, and now he's found me and I've miraculously recovered. I'll have to change my identity and move in with him. Is he out of his mind?"

"I'm so confused. Why didn't you read through it before signing?" Evie asked, carefully picking up the discarded document.

"I thought I just had to say yes," Harper confessed, her voice filled with regret.

Evie's eyes widened as she continued reading.

"It says you're going to have a male child. It's a year-long contract, and once his case is solved, you'll file for divorce."

Harper snatched the document from Evie's hands.

"We're going to have a male child? A year-long contract? And I'll file for a divorce as a bad wife or what? This is a nightmare."

"This is beyond ugly, girl," Evie murmured sympathetically.

"He wants to control my life, and I'm not ready for this. This isn't the life I signed up for, Evie."

"I know, Harper. I'm just as baffled as you are."

With determination burning in her eyes, Harper made up her mind.

"I'm going to his house. I can't let Dylan use and ruin me like this."

She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door, but Evie blocked her path.

"You know you won't get past his safety, and it's already late," Evie implored, trying to reason with her friend.

Tears welled up in Harper's eyes as she cried out.

"I feel so trapped. Please, let me go."

Harper picked up her jacket and bag and made her way out the door, leaving behind her friend in confusion.

****

The evening air was filled with a gentle drizzle as Harper walked down the dimly lit street.

She had lost track of time, her legs aching from the endless walk. Seeking solace, she stumbled into a nearby bar and drank to the point of stupor.

As she staggered out of the bar into the cool night, tears streamed down her face, mingling with the raindrops. Her head hurt mercilessly, and she found herself heading toward Dylan's house. She was outside his house when she collapsed on the wet pavement.

"Not again," Dylan muttered as he stepped out of his car.

He had been engrossed in his work late into the night, wrestling with the mounting troubles in his life. Now, here is Harper, passed out on the ground.

Despite her drunken state, Harper managed to mumble.

"Don't touch me. I know who you are."

Dylan sighed, his irritation coming from weariness.

"You're quite stubborn when you're drunk."

"You want to ruin my life, and I won't let you do that," Harper slurred, her words slinking through her alcohol-induced haze.

Dylan gently lifted her off the ground and placed her in his car. The rain continued to fall as he drove them back to his compound, saying nothing in response to her accusations.

****

Harper struggled to sit up in the soft bed, but her head throbbed painfully. When her surroundings came into focus, her heart sank. She was in Dylan's house, lying on the same bed where she had woken up before. Looking up, she found Dylan sitting nearby.

"What do you want from me?" Harper asked, attempting to stand but immediately sinking back onto the bed, her dizziness overwhelming.

Dylan regarded her calmly.

"I should be asking you. You were outside my house."

"I came to say no. I'm no longer interested in your contract."

Dylan coughed.

"Too late. You've already signed."

"What do you really want from me?" Harper asked, her voice filled with exhaustion.

"Nothing, because you have nothing to offer me," Dylan replied, standing up and stretching.

"The contract, it's extreme. It's going to ruin me."

Dylan's gaze remained impassive.

"When are you moving in? We have a dinner party to attend very soon."

Harper was taken aback.

"I'm not used to this kind of life."

"Get used to it. Pack your things and move in by evening."

Harper hesitated.

"I can clean your company, your house, I can clean everything, and anything. Please, let's forget about the contract."

Dylan's expression remained firm.

"Don't spoil my mood."

He walked away into the living room, leaving Harper behind. He worked hard to run his company and he was going to do anything to preserve his name. He went back and stood by the door, only to hear her weeping.

"I'm so messed up," she cried, her voice filled with pain.

"My mother is going to kill me. I'm so lost. I'm just 24, dear God. How did I end up here?"

Dylan returned to his room, his mind flashing back to the press interview he had endured earlier.

"Mr. Dylan, there are allegations that your company is involved in drug exportation and human trafficking. How true are these claims?" a reporter asked, cameras flashing.

"Not true," Dylan had replied tersely, walking away from the intrusive crowd.

"But you've never been seen with a wife or child. People say you're heartless and might exploit your family as well," another journalist had persisted.

Dylan had bristled with anger.

"I have a wife, and we're expecting a baby."

"Why haven't we seen her? Perhaps the claims hold some truth."

The questioning had become relentless, and Dylan had retreated to his car with the assistance of his security team. He loathed every moment of the interview.

The sound of footsteps brought him back to the present, and he quickly followed Harper, recognizing it was her. She made her way to the living room.

He maintained his stoic expression, unwilling to show any hint of emotion, even though he felt a little sympathy for her.

"When will my debts be paid?" Harper asked coldly, aware that he was following her.

"As soon as you move in," Dylan replied, taking a seat on a nearby sofa.

"What about my mother?"

"I'll rent her an apartment and arrange for a nurse. Nobody would know about her."

"And what about my previous life and the people who know me?"

"You lost your memory, and you can't remember them. I'll claim it's a misconception because you're from a different place."

"And my friend, Evie?"

"You don't know her either," Dylan affirmed.

Harper kept staring into the floor, it looked like an ocean, and then it turned solid. Her tears dropped on it, each fall making a sound. Dylan walked away as she continued to snob.

****

Harper gazed at her reflection in the grand mirror, dressed in an elegant gown and with expensive jewelry. She couldn't recognize the woman staring back at her.

"What have I turned into?" she muttered to herself, her voice heavy with dislike.

Dylan's voice came from the doorway, breaking her thoughts.

"We have an event tonight."

Harper turned to him with resentment.

"Another one of your fancy parties?"

Dylan nodded.

"It's a part of the arrangement, Harper. We must keep up appearances."

"I was on the verge of throwing up the last time."

"Fix it."

"I'll call the dress team to get you ready. It's an important party."

"Alright, I'll just wait," Harper replied, turning back to the mirror feeling swallowed.

As they drove to the event, Harper couldn't shake the feeling of being nervous. She missed her old life, her independence, and, above all, her mother, whom she hadn't seen since moving in with Dylan. Guilt gnawed at her.

The gala was a whirlwind of wealth and power. Harper felt like an outsider, struggling to fit into the polished crowd. She forced smiles for the cameras, exchanged pleasantries, and pretended to be the supportive wife.

But as the night wore on, Harper couldn't help but notice the way people scrutinized her, with curiosity and doubt. She was just a pawn in Dylan's game, and she knew it.

She excused herself from the toilet and took out her phone.

"Hey, it's Harper, " she said in a low tone, as she was speaking to Evie.

"You're a crazy girl, you dump me," Evie confronted her.

"It was never my fault, we need to see. I don't know how we're going to do that, but I'm dead if we're caught."

"I miss you so much, you just have to speak out."

"It's not as easy as you say," Harper replied, surveying her environment.

"Let's meet at our hide. Remember to delete my number from your log."

"Yeah, I'll do that now, bye."

"Who were you speaking with," Dylan's voice interrupted, causing Harper to fret.

"I ….I …. I'm just practicing how to make some fake calls," she stammered, trying to fake a smile.

"Give me your phone," Dylan demanded.