Contract Marriage, unexpected love

Victoria’s POV I looked out of the window as the car turned into the street of my father's house. I smiled as I passed the field I used to play with my friends, so many memories from that playing field. I made my first friend there. Iris was her name. She used to live down the street from our house. Our neighbourhood is the definition of a gated community. The mansions are of great designs with perfectly cut grass on all the lawns and extravagant water fountains protected by huge gates. Coming back here after spending so much time away makes me feel nostalgic. Studying abroad in the UK for the past six years without coming back home has not been easy. I was skeptical about studying that far from my family, but how could I just let the opportunity of studying in one of the finest universities with the best experiments in clinical psychology? It was my dream school. It was so good at first, but I couldn't come home during summers because of the research programs given to us, but all those years of hard work had paid off. I graduated with a first-class degree in psychology, and now I could come home and be closer to my parents. I'm sure my parents will be super proud of me. My phone pinged on my lap, and I looked at it. It was a message from my mother. We can't wait to have you home, my darling. I smiled at the text and tucked my phone in my bag. The car turned into the driveway of my house. There, it was standing tall just the way I left it six years ago. The driver stopped at the front of the house, and as I looked out the window of the house, my dog bingo ran out as soon as my mother opened the door. “Bingo! I yelped ecstatically as I opened the door of the car and knelt to embrace my dog. Bingo licked my face with a frantic energy that mirrored my own excitement. For a moment, buried in golden fur and the familiar scent of home, I felt like the same girl who had left for London at eighteen—full of dreams and untouched by the weight of the world. "He hasn't forgotten you," my mother’s voice drifted toward me. I looked up, still kneeling on the gravel, and saw her. Elena Thorne looked as perfectly manicured as ever in her cream-colored silk blouse, but as she stepped into the sunlight, I noticed the fine lines around her eyes were deeper than they’d appeared on FaceTime Behind her stood my father, Arthur. He looked thinner, his shoulders hunched as if he were carrying an invisible weight. "Mom! Dad!" I stood up, smoothing out my tailored wool coat—a habit from my years in London where presentation was everything. I pulled them both into a tight embrace. "I miss you so much. I can’t believe I’m finally back." "We missed you too, Victoria," my father said, his voice unusually raspy. He didn't meet my eyes for long, instead looking past me toward the driver unloading my luggage. "You look... elegant. The UK suited you." "It was worth it, Dad. Wait until you see my final thesis on behavioural patterns. I’ve already had two firms in the city reach out for interviews," I said, a spark of pride lighting up my chest. A strange, heavy silence followed my words. My parents exchanged a glance—a fleeting, panicked look that made the hair on my arms stand up. "Let’s go inside, darling," my mother said, her hand trembling slightly as she rested it on my arm. "It’s a bit chilly out here." As I stepped through the front doors, the nostalgia I had felt in the car began to curdle. The house was exactly the same, yet entirely different. It was too quiet. Usually, the foyer was filled with the scent of fresh lilies and the sounds of the staff bustling about. Today, the air felt stagnant, and the house felt... empty. "Where is Mrs. Higgins?" I asked, referring to our long-time housekeeper. "We... gave the staff the week off," my father lied. I knew it was a lie instantly. My father was a terrible liar; his jaw always tightened in a specific way. "We wanted some family time. Just us." They led me into the formal dining room. Instead of a 'Welcome Home' banner or a celebratory lunch, the long mahogany table was bare, except for a single, thick leather-bound folder resting at the head of the table. My heart gave a sharp, uneasy thud. This wasn't a homecoming. This was a meeting. "Sit down, Victoria," my father said, gesturing to the chair opposite the folder. I sat, my spine instinctively straightening into the professional posture I’d maintained during my clinical rounds. "What’s going on? You both look like you’re at a funeral. Is someone sick? Is it the business?" My mother let out a small, broken sob and turned toward the window, unable to look at me. My father took a deep breath, his hands shaking as he reached for the folder. "The Thorne Group is... it’s gone, Victoria," he whispered. "We’ve been fighting a hostile takeover for eighteen months. We’re in debt—millions in debt. The bank issued the final foreclosure notice on this house last week." I felt the air leave my lungs. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have come home, I could have helped—" "There was nothing you could do," he interrupted, his voice gaining a desperate edge. "But there is something you *can* do now. We’ve found a way to save everything. The house, our name, the company... it can all be restored." He pushed the leather folder across the table toward me. I opened it, my eyes scanning the legal jargon. My brain, trained to analyze complex data, processed the words faster than my heart wanted to accept them. Marriage Contract. Party A: Liam Sterling. Party B: Victoria Thorne. "A marriage contract?" I whispered, the words tasting like ash. "You want me to marry into the Sterling family? The shipping tycoons?" "Charles Sterling has offered us a lifeline," my mother said, turning back with tear-streaked cheeks. "He needs a... stable influence for his son, Liam. You know his reputation, Victoria. He’s reckless, a scandal-magnet. His father is willing to clear all our debts and provide a massive injection of capital into the Thorne Group, provided Liam marries a woman of 'impeccable character and education.'" I looked at the document, then back at my parents. The realization hit me like a physical blow. They weren't asking for my help. They had already decided. "You’re selling me," I said, my voice eerily calm. "To a man I’ve never met. A man who spends more time in tabloids than boardrooms." "It’s one year, Victoria!" my father pleaded, leaning over the table. "Just one year of marriage. There’s a clause of mutual respect, no public scandals. If you can just stay married for twelve months, the money is ours. If you don't sign this, we lose everything by the end of the month. We’ll be in the streets. Your mother... she can't handle that." I looked at the pen resting on top of the contract. It was a heavy, gold-plated Sterling pen. A gift from my future jailer. I thought of my six years of study, my dreams of opening a clinic, and my independence. All of it was being traded for a billionaire’s trust fund and my father's mistakes. I looked at my mother’s desperate face and my father’s broken spirit. "I don't even know what he looks like," I whispered. "He’s waiting at the lawyer’s office," my father said, hope flickering in his eyes—a hope that made me feel sick. "Mr. Henderson is expecting us in an hour." I looked down at the contract one last time. I was a psychologist. I spent my life studying the human mind, but I never realized my own parents were capable of this. I picked up the pen, my fingers cold. "I’ll do it," I said, the words feeling like a death sentence. "But don't ever tell me you did this for me. You did this for the house." I signed my name in sharp, precise letters. Victoria Thorne was gone. According to the ink on the page, I was already a Sterling.