A Contract Of Heart

Chapter 3: Under the Same Roof

The moment Rita stepped into Richard’s mansion, she knew nothing would ever be the same.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled above her like frozen stars. Marble floors stretched endlessly, too perfect to touch. Every corner whispered of a life she didn’t belong to—and a man she didn’t understand.

Richard walked ahead, saying little. No smiles. No warmth. Just distant politeness.

“This is your wing,” he said, gesturing toward a hallway. “You’ll have everything you need. Staff, clothes, a driver.”

“Thank you,” Rita murmured, her voice too small in the grand silence.

He paused. “We may be married, but let’s be clear—this is business. Public appearances, charity events, dinner when needed. Beyond that, we live our lives.”

Rita’s heart clenched.

So that was it. A cold agreement. No love. No companionship.

Just a contract.

She nodded, refusing to let him see the sting in her eyes. “I understand.”

That night, as she lay on a silk-sheeted bed in a room bigger than her entire childhood home, Rita stared at the ceiling.

What had she agreed to?

She wasn’t naive—she knew marrying a billionaire would come with rules, boundaries. But the loneliness hit harder than she expected.

And yet, beneath Richard’s distance, there was something else. A flicker in his gaze when he thought she wasn’t looking. A tension in his jaw when she smiled too long.

He was hiding something.

And so was she.

Because deep down, despite everything… Rita wasn’t sure she wanted to keep her heart out of it.

Not anymore.

Rita's POV: The Family She Left Behind

The silence in the Hooked estate was suffocating, too perfect, too sterile—like a museum. Rita missed the noise of home.

She sat by the tall window of her room, watching the evening sun stain the sky orange. Her fingers absentmindedly traced the silk hem of her robe, but her mind was far from the luxury that surrounded her. It was miles away, on a narrow street in Lagos, in the modest flat she shared with her parents and younger brothers. The smell of fried plantain, the buzz of a faulty ceiling fan, her mother’s voice singing softly in the kitchen—these were the memories wrapped around her heart like worn fabric.

She hadn't even said goodbye the way she wanted. The contract was too sudden, the paperwork swift, and her parents had been too stunned to argue. They were proud, of course—they always wanted her to marry well, to elevate the family, to do better than they had. But pride didn’t stop the tears in her mother’s eyes the night she left.

Her father was quiet, as always. A man of few words and long hours. She remembered the way he had hugged her awkwardly, as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to show emotion. But she had felt it—in the tremble of his hands, in the way he called her “my daughter” in a way he hadn’t in years.

Rita loved them. But she had always known love wasn’t enough to protect a family from poverty. So she studied, worked hard, said yes when opportunity knocked—even if it was dressed in silk contracts and a man she barely knew.

Her brothers had been the hardest to leave. Chuka was only ten, with wild dreams and bright eyes, and Brian was a teenager already carrying the weight of their father’s expectations. They looked at her like she was a hero. She didn’t want them to see her cry.

Here in the Hooked mansion, nothing reminded her of home. The meals were delivered on trays she never touched. The clothes were tailored and expensive. Her husband was handsome, distant, and buried under layers of control. She sometimes wondered if Richard had ever loved anyone—or if he had ever been allowed to.

Rita wrapped her arms around herself. She missed hearing her name shouted from the hallway. Missed the warmth of sitting on the floor and watching TV with her brothers. Missed being needed—not for what she could represent, but for who she was.

She had come into this marriage thinking of her family’s future. But now, in the stillness of her new world, Rita realized something painful and true.

She hadn’t just left them behind.

She had lost a part of herself.

And she didn’t know if she’d ever get it back.

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