Always make you mine

Episode Twelve

The message from Martin Kane arrived early the next morning:

“Mr. Blackwood expects you at the Manhattan City Clerk’s Office at 10:00 AM sharp for marriage license registration and ceremony. Bring valid ID. The full contract will be provided immediately after. A car will pick you up at 9:15.”

Evelyn stared at the text until the words blurred. Today. It was really happening today.

She dressed in a simple cream blouse and dark trousers — nothing that would draw attention or look celebratory. Her hands shook as she pinned her hair back. Downstairs, she forced a calm smile for her parents.

“I got a last-minute interview for a better gallery position uptown,” she lied smoothly. “It might run long, and if it goes well, I may need to stay overnight for some training. Don’t worry if I’m late.”

Her mother hugged her tightly. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart. Everything is finally turning around.”

Richard nodded, still glowing from the revised Blackwood offer that had arrived the night before. “Go get them. We’ll celebrate when you get back.”

The guilt twisted sharply in Evelyn’s chest, but she hugged them both and left before she could break.

A sleek black town car waited outside. The driver said nothing during the ride. When they arrived at the City Clerk’s Office, Martin Kane was already waiting near the entrance, looking impeccably professional.

“Miss Hayes. Follow me. The process has been expedited.”

Inside, the formalities moved with cold efficiency. They filled out the marriage license paperwork. Damien arrived exactly on time, flanked by two lawyers. He wore a tailored black suit and looked every bit the powerful CEO — distant, commanding, and completely unaffected.

Their eyes met for the first time since she had accepted. Evelyn’s stomach dropped. Damien’s sharp gray eyes flicked over her once, registering her presence with the same detached indifference she had come to expect. No warmth. No acknowledgment of the gravity of what they were about to do.

The short civil ceremony was clinical. They stood before a clerk, exchanged the required vows in flat voices, and signed the marriage license. Within twenty minutes, they were legally husband and wife — on paper.

Afterward, Martin led them to a private conference room in a nearby Blackwood-owned building. Two lawyers and a notary waited. A thick stack of documents sat on the polished table.

Damien sat at the head of the table. Evelyn took the seat opposite him. The lawyers explained the terms briefly before sliding the contract toward her.

Evelyn read through the pages with a racing heart. The clauses were strict :

• The marriage would last exactly one year from the date of signing.

• Evelyn must reside in Damien’s penthouse for the duration.

• She must attend required public and social events as his wife when requested.

• No interference in Damien’s affairs or decisions.

• No emotional expectations or demands from either party.

• Physical intimacy was not required and would not be initiated unless mutually agreed upon in writing.

• Complete discretion was mandatory. No discussion of the arrangement with third parties.

• At the end of the year, a quiet divorce would be filed with a generous financial settlement for Evelyn and full debt relief plus stabilization funding for Hayes Construction.

• Any violation of the terms would result in immediate termination of support for her family’s company.

Damien watched her read in silence, his expression unreadable.

When she reached the final page, one of the lawyers placed a pen in front of her. “Any questions, Mrs. Blackwood?”

The title made her flinch.

Evelyn looked up at Damien. “I need time to move out of my parents’ house. I can’t just disappear overnight. I need at least a few days to pack and… explain things.”

Damien leaned back slightly, his voice low and commanding. “You have forty-eight hours. No more. After that, you move into the penthouse. Martin will handle the logistics.”

Evelyn swallowed hard and nodded. With trembling fingers, she signed every page. Damien signed after her, his signature bold and precise. The notary stamped the documents, and just like that, the contract was sealed.

The lawyers and Martin left the room, leaving Evelyn and Damien alone for the first time.

She stared at the signed papers, feeling the weight of what she had done settle heavily on her shoulders. “Why me?” she asked quietly, echoing the question she had asked before. “Out of everyone in this city, why did you choose me for this… arrangement?”

Damien stood and buttoned his suit jacket. His gray eyes met hers with cool detachment.

“Because you appeared at the right moment, Miss Hayes — now Mrs. Blackwood. You are convenient. Unconnected. And desperate enough to accept. That makes you useful without complications.” He paused, his voice dropping lower. “Do not look for emotions or affection in this. This is a transaction. Nothing more. Respect the terms, and your family will be protected. Break them, and the deal ends.”

Evelyn felt a chill run down her spine, but she lifted her chin. “I understand.”

“Good.” He glanced at his watch. “Martin will contact you about the move. Forty-eight hours.”

Without another word, he turned and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Damien’s POV

Damien sat in the back of his car as it pulled away from the building, his expression as cold and controlled as ever. He stared out at the passing city without really seeing it.

She had accepted.

He had expected hesitation, perhaps even tears or last-minute bargaining. Instead, Evelyn Hayes had shown up, signed the license, read every clause of the contract with careful attention, and put her name on the dotted line.

Curious.

Most women in her position would have crumbled or tried to negotiate softer terms — more money, more freedom, some illusion of romance. She had done none of that. She had simply asked for time to move out of her parents’ house. Practical. Almost… dignified.

He leaned his head back against the seat. In his mind, the decision to propose the contract had been purely strategic. His mother’s constant pressure for marriage had become a distraction. The board whispered about his lack of a “stable image.” A quiet, temporary wife solved multiple problems at once. And Evelyn — with her family’s desperate situation and her repeated, inconvenient appearances in his path — had presented herself as the perfect candidate: attractive enough to pass in public, unconnected to his world, and motivated by pure necessity.

He had watched her closely during the signing. The slight tremble in her fingers. The way her dark eyes had flashed with quiet defiance even as she signed away a year of her life. She wasn’t weak. That much was clear.

Still, he felt nothing resembling guilt or excitement. This was business. Emotions had no place here. He would provide the financial rescue her father needed. She would play the role required. At the end of twelve months, they would part ways cleanly.

Yet a small, nagging thought lingered in the back of his mind as the car merged into traffic:

She had chosen her family over her own future without hesitation.

That kind of loyalty was rare.

Damien pushed the thought aside. Loyalty, like everything else, had its price. He had just paid it.

He pulled out his phone and sent a brief message to Martin:

“Prepare the penthouse. She moves in within 48 hours. Ensure the financial transfers for Hayes Construction begin immediately upon her arrival.

Back in Brooklyn that evening, Evelyn sat at the dinner table with her parents, forcing herself to eat while they celebrated the “miraculous” revised deal from Blackwood Group.

“I still can’t believe it,” her father said, raising a glass of cheap wine. “We’re actually going to be okay.”

Evelyn smiled weakly. “I’m so happy for you, Dad.”

Later, when Zara called, Evelyn lied again.

“I got offered a live-in position at a private art collection uptown. It’s a huge opportunity — good pay, room and board. I have to move in quickly.”

Zara was excited for her. “That’s amazing! When do you start?”

“Day after tomorrow,” Evelyn said, her throat tight. “I’ll come by to say goodbye before I go.”

She ended the call and stared at her suitcase in the corner of her childhood bedroom. Forty-eight hours.

In two days, she would leave this house and step into Damien Blackwood’s world as his wife — in name only, bound by cold ink and colder rules.

No emotions.

No interference.

No turning back.

Evelyn hugged her knees to her chest and whispered into the quiet room, “I hope it’s worth it.”

But as the reality of her new last name settled over her, she already knew the price would be higher than she could imagine.