Chapter 5:
1433 Words
"What if I can't get pregnant?" Elena asked quietly. It was something that had kept her awake last night. "What if this doesn't work?"
Damien's expression softened slightly. "Then we adjust. The contract includes provisions for IVF, surrogacy alternatives, even adoption if necessary. My grandfather wants an heir, but he's not unreasonable about the medical realities."
"But you'd still expect me to stay for two years?"
"Yes. The marriage has to appear genuine regardless. But the payment structure would be adjusted fairly." He paused. "Elena, I'm not going to punish you for biology."
She initialed that page too.
Article 16: TERMINATION AND POST-MARITAL ARRANGEMENTS
Upon completion of the two-year term, both parties agree to a quiet, uncontested divorce. The Wife retains all compensation as specified in Article 8. Custody of any children born during the marriage shall default to the Husband, with visitation rights granted to the Wife as outlined in Addendum C...
This was it. The part that made her stomach clench. She'd carried a baby for nine months and then hand it over. See her child on weekends and holidays like some distant relative.
"Elena." Damien's voice was low.
"You're hesitating."
"I'm thinking about what it'll be like. After."
"You don't have to do this."
"I know." She looked at him. "Do you ever think about what it'll be like for them? Growing up knowing their mother chose to leave?"
Something flickered across Damien's face—pain, maybe, or memory. "My mother left when I was eight. Decided marriage to my father and motherhood weren't what she wanted after all. She sends a card on my birthday. We haven't spoken in fifteen years."
Elena's breath caught. "Damien—"
"I'm not telling you this for sympathy. I'm telling you because I understand what you're worried about. But here's the difference: you're not abandoning this child. You're making a choice before they're even born, with clear terms and continued involvement. That's not the same as disappearing."
"Feels pretty similar."
"Then change the terms. Stay involved. Be a real presence in their life. I'm not trying to erase you, Elena. I'm just trying to provide stability."
She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe this could work without destroying everyone involved.
"What if..." Elena started, then stopped. "What if two years from now, we actually—"
"Don't." Damien
"Don't go down that road. This is a contract. Nothing more. Planning for 'what ifs' that involve feelings is how people get hurt."
Right. Because he'd loved someone once, and she'd died, and now he was sealed off tighter than a vault.
Elena picked up the pen and initialed the final page.
"Both parties, please sign here." Whitmore indicated the signature lines.
Damien signed first. His signature was bold, decisive—the handwriting of someone who'd signed a thousand contracts and never looked back.
Elena's hand trembled slightly as she wrote her name. The pen felt heavy, like it weighed a thousand pounds instead of a few ounces.
Elena Maria Martinez
There. Done.
"Congratulations," Whitmore said
"You're now legally bound to marry within seventy-two hours. The marriage license has been expedited through our contacts at the county clerk's office. Your ceremony is scheduled for Saturday at 2 PM at the Blackwood estate."
Saturday. Three days away.
"I'm getting married in three days," Elena said to no one in particular.
Damien stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "You're getting married in three days. There's a difference."
Always so cold.
"The first payment will be transferred to your account by end of business today," Whitmore continued. "Miss Martinez, you'll want to coordinate with Mr. Blackwood's assistant regarding the move to the Belmont property. I understand your current lease ends next month?"
"Yes, but—I'm moving this week?" Elena felt like she was playing catch-up in a race she didn't know had started.
"The sooner the better," Damien said. "My grandfather wants to meet you this weekend, and it'll be easier if you're already settled at the house. I'll have movers handle everything. You just need to pack personal items."
"I can move myself—"
"Elena." He cut her off gently. "You're about to be my wife. Let me handle the logistics. Consider it practice in accepting help."
She wanted to argue. Wanted to maintain some shred of independence. But looking at the sea of lawyers and the signed contract and Damien's implacable expression, Elena realized she'd already given up independence when she signed her name.
"Fine," she said. "But I pack my own things."
"Agreed." Damien checked his watch—a Patek Philippe that probably cost more than her car and apartment combined. "I have a board meeting in twenty minutes. Jennifer will coordinate everything with you. Plan to be moved in by Friday evening. We'll have dinner to discuss the ceremony and meeting my grandfather."
He was already heading for the door. All business, no emotion.
"Damien," Elena called after him.
He turned.
"Thank you. For... this. I know it's just a contract to you, but it's—it's everything to me."
His expression shuttered. "It's not 'just' a contract, Elena. It's a commitment. I don't take those lightly." He paused. "I'll see you Friday."
Then he was gone, leaving Elena alone with the lawyers and a future she'd just signed away.
The wire transfer hit Elena's account at 4:47 PM.
She was on her lunch break, sitting in her car in the hospital parking lot, when her phone buzzed with the notification.
DEPOSIT: $1,000,000.00
Elena stared at the number until her eyes blurred. Seven digits. More money than she'd ever imagined having. Enough to pay off every cent of debt, with hundreds of thousands left over.
Her hands shook as she logged into the collections portal and paid the entire medical bill in one transaction. $247,382.19. Gone. Just like that.
Elena put her head on the steering wheel and cried.
Relief. Terror. Grief for her mother who'd never be free of worry the way Elena now was. Guilt that it had taken selling her future to escape the past.
Her phone rang. Maya.
"Tell me you didn't chicken out," Maya said instead of hello.
"I signed." Elena's voice was thick. "The money just came through."
"Oh my God. Elena. Oh my GOD."
"I'm getting married Saturday."
"SATURDAY? This Saturday? As in three days from now Saturday?"
"Apparently billionaires don't believe in long engagements."
Maya squealed so loudly Elena had to hold the phone away from her ear. "I'm coming over. Right now. We're packing and planning and—wait, do I get to come to the wedding?"
"It's not a real wedding, Maya."
"It's a wedding happening on Saturday that you'll be attending as the bride. That's real enough. So do I get an invite?"
Elena hesitated. The contract said she could tell people they were getting married, just not that it was contractual. Maya already knew the truth, but everyone else...
"Small ceremony," Elena said. "Just family and a few close friends. You're invited. But Maya, everyone else—my coworkers, my aunt in Phoenix—they have to think this is real."
"You're really going to lie to everyone?"
"I signed a million-dollar NDA, so yeah. I'm really going to lie to everyone."
"This is insane."
"I know."
"I'm still coming over."
Maya hung up, and Elena sat in her car, staring at her bank balance. One million dollars. Freedom. Security. And all it cost was two years of her life and a baby she'd have to give away.
Her phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number that had to be Damien's assistant, Jennifer.
Jennifer Walsh: Miss Martinez, Mr. Blackwood has arranged for a moving company to assist you Friday morning at 9 AM. Please have personal belongings packed by then. The household staff will handle setup at Belmont. Also, you have a fitting appointment tomorrow at 10 AM at Valentina's Bridal for your wedding attire. Address attached.
Wedding attire. Because she was getting married in three days to a man she barely knew.
Elena typed back: Do I get any say in the dress?
Jennifer: Mr. Blackwood requests something elegant but understated. Classic. You'll have several options to choose from. He's also arranged for hair and makeup the morning of the ceremony.
Of course he had. Because Damien Blackwood controlled everything, including what his fake wife would look like on their fake wedding day.
Elena started her car. She had to get through the rest of her shift, go home, and somehow pack up her entire life by Friday morning.
Three days until she became Mrs. Damien Blackwood.
- Writer
