Chapter2
1024 Words
Chapter 2: The Contract
Rory stood in front of the rusted gate of her family’s crumbling townhouse, the echo of high heels on marble floors still haunting her ears. The gala had felt like another life, a dream stitched from silk and candlelight. Now, reality pressed against her skin like cold, wet cloth.
The porch light flickered overhead as she pushed open the door. No one looked up.
Her mother sat on the worn sofa, eyes glued to the television. Her father grumbled in the kitchen about a missed payment. Her sister, Vanessa, lay across the loveseat in a silk robe Rory hadn’t seen before, painting her toenails blood red.
“Well, look who decided to show up,” Vanessa drawled without looking up. “How was Cinderella playing at the rich people’s ball?”
Rory swallowed hard, clutching the hem of her secondhand dress. “It was… fine.”
“Did you steal anything?” her father shouted from the kitchen.
“Of course not,” Rory muttered, heading for the stairs.
“Shame,” her mother said flatly. “Could’ve used a miracle around here.”
She climbed the stairs to her room, heart sinking with each step. She barely had time to close the door behind her before the tears spilled over. She stood in front of the mirror, wiping at her mascara-smudged eyes, the weight of the night finally crashing down.
Julian Blackwood.
The way he looked at her. The way he spoke with her like she wasn’t invisible. It wasn’t a fantasy. It happened. It was real. And yet… What now?
She didn’t expect an answer so soon as she stared at the card In her hands.
The next morning, Rory was still in bed when she heard the doorbell ring. Followed by silence. Then—her sister’s shriek.
“Oh my God. Oh my GOD. Mom! Mom, it’s him! It’s Julian Blackwood!”
Rory sat bolt upright.
Footsteps thundered. Voices layered over each other. She rushed to the window, yanking the curtains apart—and there he stood.
Black suit. Black car. Black eyes. Body guards all dressed in black suits with black shades on. Julian Blackwood was truly on her crooked porch.
She stumbled downstairs in a flurry of disbelief. Her family stood in awkward formation—her mom with her hair in curlers, her dad gawking, and Vanessa smiling like a lioness.
Julian’s eyes found Rory immediately.
“Miss Thompson,” he said smoothly. “May I have a word? In private.”
“Of course!” Vanessa interrupted. “We can give you privacy in the living room. Right, Mom?”
Julian didn’t wait for permission. He stepped inside as if the house belonged to him. He motioned toward the couch, his presence making the tiny room feel too small.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again,” Rory said once they were alone, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I don’t believe in waiting,” he replied.
She studied him. His face gave nothing away.
Julian reached into his coat and retrieved a thin leather folder. He opened it slowly, deliberately.
“What is that?”
“A contract,” he said. “I want to make you an offer, Rory.”
Her mouth went dry. “An offer?”
“I would like to propose a legal arrangement. A marriage. Between you and me.”
Rory blinked, certain she’d misheard.
He continued, voice low and even. “It will be a contract marriage. You will live with me. Attend public events by my side. In exchange, your family will receive financial support, debt relief, and a substantial monthly stipend. You’ll also gain access to my resources, staff, and protection.”
“Protection?” she echoed, alarmed.
“I have enemies,” he said. “Being attached to me means being part of a world far more complicated than this one.”
She stared at the folder. “Why me?”
“You intrigued me,” he said without hesitation. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve met. And I need someone I can trust.”
“I don’t even know you.”
“You will,” he said softly. “This contract ensures your safety. And your freedom. After one year, if either of us wishes to terminate the arrangement, we can. Until then, I expect discretion. And loyalty.”
“Discretion?” she whispered.
“About my business. My family. Everything.”
The way he said “family” made her stomach twist.
Julian stood. “Read it. Carefully. I’ll return tonight for your answer.”
And just like that, he left—ignoring Vanessa’s eager smile, her father’s half-bow, her mother’s sudden warmth. Rory stood frozen, the folder in her hands like it weighed a hundred pounds.
Upstairs, she locked the door and laid it on her bed.
Her fingers shook as she turned the first page. The legal jargon blurred in her vision, but one thing was clear: he was serious. There were clauses about living arrangements, media appearances, confidentiality…
She kept reading until her eyes landed on a section hidden between the lines.
Clause 17B: In the event of pregnancy, the child is to remain under the legal guardianship of Julian Blackwood. Sole custody shall be determined at Julian Blackwood’s discretion.
Her breath caught.
She read it again.
And again.
Why would he even include that?
It was as if he already planned for it.
A knock echoed at her door. “Rory?” her mother called sweetly. “Julian seems really interested in you. Don’t mess this up.”
She didn’t respond. Her hands were clenched so tightly the paper crumpled beneath her fingers.
Julian wanted a wife. A prop. A secret keeper.
And if she made one mistake—if anything happened—he had already ensured the child would be his.
Her heart pounded as she flipped to the last page.
There it was.
A blank line.
Her name.
A place for her signature.
A knock at the
window startled her. She turned slowly.
Julian stood outside, beneath the streetlamp, hands in his pockets.
Watching her.
- Writer
