Contract Marriage, unexpected love

Chapter 4

Victoria’s POV

The click of the deadbolt sounded like a gunshot in the silent house.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. Liam was still holding that letter the physical proof that my father had sold me like a piece of livestock to the man who ruined him. The red light of the hidden camera continued its rhythmic, predatory blink from the ceiling.

"Hide it," I hissed, my voice barely a breath. "Liam, the letter. Hide it now!"

Liam’s blue eyes were wide, a mixture of shock and burgeoning rage. For a second, he didn't move. He looked like he wanted to punch the wall or tear the ceiling down.

"Liam!"

I lunged forward, grabbing his hand, the one clutching the paper and shoved it behind his back just as the study door swung open.

I didn't think so. I couldn't afford to. I stepped into his personal space, closing the gap until my chest pressed against his leather jacket. I wrapped my arms around his neck, forcing a smile that felt like it was cracking my face, and buried my head in the crook of his shoulder.

"I missed you too, darling," I projected, my voice trembling but loud enough for the microphone I knew was hidden near that camera.

Liam stiffened. He felt like granite beneath my touch. Then, slowly, his instincts kicked in. His free arm, the one not holding the evidence of my father’s sins, wound around my waist, pulling me closer.

"I’m home, Victoria," he murmured, his voice surprisingly steady, though I could feel the tension vibrating through him.

"Interrupting something?"

The voice wasn't Charles’s. It was dryer, colder. I pulled back just enough to see **Mr. Henderson** standing in the doorway, his briefcase held like a shield. Behind him stood two men in black suits—security, or perhaps just witnesses.

"Mr. Henderson," I said, keeping my arm looped through Liam’s, my fingers digging into his bicep. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company so soon after the move."

"A routine check, Mrs. Sterling," Henderson said, his eyes scanning the room with clinical precision. They lingered for a fraction of a second on the smoke detector, then moved to our intertwined hands. "The contract stipulates that your residence is subject to 'integrity audits' to ensure the terms of the mutual respect and cohabitation clauses are being met."

> The Clause: Section 4.2

> The Parties agree to maintain a singular, shared primary residence. Any attempt to circumvent this through separate living quarters or deceptive domestic arrangements shall be deemed a material breach.

"As you can see," Liam said, his voice dropping into that lazy, arrogant drawl he used as a defense mechanism, "we’re settling in just fine. My wife was just showing me how much she missed the old place."

I felt the paper in Liam’s hand crinkle behind his back. My stomach twisted. If Henderson saw that letter if he knew we had proof of the orchestration, the deal wouldn't just be off. Charles would destroy what was left of my family before I could even blink.

"Indeed," Henderson said, stepping further into the room. "I'll need a full tour. Including the master suite. Your father wants to be certain that the... arrangements... are comfortable."

I felt Liam’s grip tighten on my waist. The master suite. The room where we were supposed to sleep in the same bed to prove this farce was real.

"Of course," I said, my voice as smooth as the silk of my blouse. "But first, Liam, darling, didn't you say you had a gift for me in the kitchen? Something about a vintage bottle to celebrate our first night?"

I gave him a pointed look, my eyes screaming to get rid of the letter.

Liam nodded, his expression unreadable.

"Right. The wine. I’ll go grab it while you show the gentleman upstairs, Victoria."

He started to move toward the door, but Henderson stepped into his path.

"Actually, Mr. Sterling, I’d prefer if we all stayed together. Transparency is the soul of this contract." Henderson looked down. "What’s that in your hand behind your back, Liam? You seem to be holding onto something quite tightly."

The air in the room vanished. Liam froze. The red light on the ceiling flickered faster, as if it were laughing at us.

"It's just a brochure," Liam said, his voice lowering dangerously.

"Then you won't mind if I see it," Henderson replied, extending a gloved hand. "Nothing goes in or out of this house without being logged. Those are the rules."

I looked at Liam. I looked at the camera. I looked at the man who held my family’s survival in his briefcase.

"It's not a brochure," I interrupted, stepping forward and snatching the paper from Liam’s hand before Henderson could react. I felt the sweat on Liam’s palm as the paper changed hands.

I didn't give Henderson a chance to grab it. I turned toward the fireplace, the one that had been cleaned and prepped for a cozy evening I never intended to have and tossed the letter into the glowing embers of the pilot light.

The paper curled. In my father’s betrayal, Charles’s cruelty began to blacken.

"Victoria!" Liam hissed.

"It was a letter from my ex-boyfriend," I said, looking Henderson dead in the eye as the flames licked the Sterling Global stationery. "I told Liam I’d burned it months ago. I was just proving to my husband that there are no secrets between us."

Henderson watched the paper turn to ash, his eyes narrowing. He didn't look like he believed me, but he couldn't prove I was lying.

"A wise choice, Mrs. Sterling," Henderson whispered. "Secrets are the only thing that can break a contract as strong as this one."

He turned to his men. "Check upstairs. I’ll wait here."

As the security detail headed for the stairs, Liam leaned into my ear, his breath hot against my skin.

"That was the only leverage we had against my father," he whispered, his voice thick with frustration. "Why did you burn it?"

"Because," I whispered back, watching the last fragment of the letter vanish into grey soot, "I have the original digital scans on my phone. I saw it on the table before you did. I’m not a fool, Liam."

I felt him relax for a split second, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "You really are a piece of work, Professor."

"Don't get comfortable," I warned.

At that moment, a muffled shout came from upstairs. One of the security guards appeared at the top of the landing, his face pale.

"Mr. Henderson! You need to see this."

We followed them up the stairs, my heart back in my throat. We reached the master bedroom, the room that was supposed to be our sanctuary.

The door was wide open.

The room had been ransacked. But it wasn't just a search. Written across the white silk headboard in jagged, crimson spray paint were four words that made the 'Mutual Respect' clause feel like a joke.

I KNOW THE TRUTH.

Beside the bed, a single, small photograph was pinned to the wall with a kitchen knife.

It was a photo of me and Liam at the lawyer's office, but someone had drawn a heavy red 'X' over both of our faces.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from an unknown number.

I pulled it out, my hands shaking.

“The contract isn't the only thing you should be worried about breaking, Victoria. One year is a long time to stay alive”.

The metallic tang of the spray paint hung heavy in the air, clashing with the expensive, sterile cologne Henderson wore. I stared at the crimson letters on my childhood headboard, my mind racing through every psychological profile I’d ever studied. This wasn’t just a threat; it was a territorial marking. Someone wanted us to know that while the walls belonged to the Sterlings, the shadows still belonged to them.

“This is a security breach, Mr. Henderson,” Liam’s voice dropped to a predatory low. He stepped in front of me, his body shielding me from the sight of the knife. “Your men were supposed to have cleared this house. How did someone get in here to do this?”

Henderson didn’t look rattled. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze lingering on the jagged 'X' over our faces. “Perhaps the threat didn’t come from the outside, Mr. Sterling. The contract requires you to manage your own personal entanglements. If an old flame or a disgruntled associate has followed you here, that is a failure of your conduct. Any scandal resulting from this... vandalism .. will be on your head.”

I didn't listen to their bickering. I stepped around Liam, my hand trembling as I reached for the photograph pinned by the kitchen knife. My eyes narrowed as I caught a detail I’d missed in my initial shock.

In the background of the photo, caught in the reflection of the hallway mirror behind us, was a figure standing in the shadows. It was a woman. She was wearing a silk scarf I recognized instantly the same one I had gifted my best friend, Sophie, before I left the UK. But Sophie was supposed to be in London.

I flipped the photo over. On the back, written in a delicate, looping script that made my blood run cold, were two words:

“Hello, Roommate.”

Suddenly, the lights in the master suite flickered and died, plunging us into an oppressive, ink-black darkness. The electronic chirp of the hidden camera sounded again, but this time, it was followed by the heavy, mechanical thud of a bolt sliding into place.

The bedroom door hadn't just closed. It had been locked from the *outside*.

“Liam,” I whispered, reaching out until my fingers brushed the rough leather of his jacket. “Someone else is in the house. And they didn't just come to watch.”

From the other side of the door, a soft, melodic humming began a childhood lullaby my mother used to sing to me. The handle of the door rattled violently, and then, a feminine voice hissed through the wood, distorted and full of malice.

“Did you really think you were the only one Charles Sterling made a promise to, Victoria?”