Chapter 3: Nera POV
1618 Words
I should have walked away.
The thought followed me from the moment Rhys Arden placed the contract in front of me.
Everything about the situation felt absurd. People like me didn't marry billionaires. We certainly didn't consider marrying billionaires we had only known for an hour.
Yet there I was, sitting across from one of the most powerful men in the country, staring at a stack of papers that could change my life forever, or ruin it.
I wasn't sure which possibility frightened me more.
The contract sat neatly between us. On the surface, it looked harmless—just pages filled with legal language and signatures waiting to happen. But I knew better than most that life could change because of a single decision.
One signature could open a door. Another could lock you inside a cage.
As I looked down at the document, all I could see was my grandmother lying in a hospital bed.
One year pretending to be Rhys Arden's wife.
One year living in a world I didn't belong to.
One year of exchanging freedom for survival.
The thought made my stomach tighten.
"Take your time." He said.
Rhys's voice broke through my thoughts.
I looked up.
He sat calmly across from me, as composed as ever. If proposing a contract marriage to a complete stranger bothered him, he certainly wasn't showing it.
Part of me found that irritating. Another part admired it. I wasn't sure which feeling I disliked more.
"What happens if I break the agreement?" I asked.
Rhys folded his hands on the table.
"There are penalties."
"Financial penalties?"
"Yes." Of course, there were.
Everything in his world seemed to revolve around money. Money solved problems. Money created opportunities. Money bought loyalty. Money fixed mistakes. At least that seemed to be how people like Rhys viewed life. I leaned back slightly.
"And if you break it?"
Something flickered briefly across his face. Not quite amusement. Not quite surprised. Maybe a mixture of both.
"The penalties apply to me as well."
That answer caught me off guard. I had expected a contract designed entirely in his favor. Instead, it appeared balanced.
Carefully balanced.
Which somehow made it more dangerous.
A man like Rhys Arden didn't leave details to chance. If he had taken the time to make the agreement fair, it meant he had thought through every possible outcome.
I closed the folder.
"I need time."
"How much?"
"A day."
He nodded once.
"Fine."
No argument. No pressure. No attempt to convince me. Just acceptance. It was strangely refreshing. I stood and slipped the contract into my bag.
"So that's it?"
"For now."
I turned toward the door, but my hand stopped halfway to my bag.
The photograph.
The crest.
The words written on the back.
Questions I had pushed aside for years were suddenly impossible to ignore.
Slowly, I pulled out the photograph.
"Can I ask you something?"
Rhys leaned back in his chair.
"Depends."
I held up the picture.
"Have you ever seen this symbol before?"
The moment his eyes landed on the silver crest, I knew the answer. His reaction lasted less than a second.
Most people would have missed it. I didn't. Recognition flashed across his face. Then confusion. The expression went off almost immediately, but it was already too late.
I suspected he knew something.
"What is it?" I asked.
Instead of answering, he looked at the photograph more closely.
"Where did you get this?"
"My grandmother."
His gaze sharpened.
"What does she know about it?"
I let out a humourless laugh.
"That's exactly what I've been trying to figure out."
"You've asked her?"
"Hundreds of times."
"And?"
"She changes the subject every single time."
A shadow crossed his expression. I noticed it immediately. What I noticed even more was the fact that he still hadn't answered my question.
"What does the symbol mean?"
The silence stretched. Long enough to become uncomfortable. Then he finally spoke.
"I don't know."
I didn't believe him. Not entirely. Maybe he genuinely didn't know everything. But he definitely knew more than he was saying. Unfortunately, I had no way to prove it.
Rhys stood, signaling the end of the meeting.
"Think about the contract."
I stared at him.
"You still haven't answered my question."
His gaze met mine.
"And you still haven't answered mine."
I hated that he had a point. A few minutes later, I found myself outside Arden Holdings. The city moved around me as if nothing had happened. Cars passed. People hurried along sidewalks. Conversations drifted through the afternoon air. Life continued.
Meanwhile, my mind remained trapped in the same loop. The contract. The photograph. The sentence was written on the back. The rightful heir survives.
The words refused to leave me alone.
What heir?
What family?
What was my grandmother hiding?
And why had Rhys Arden recognized that crest?
By the time I reached the hospital, the afternoon sun was beginning to fade. I hated hospitals. The smell alone was enough to make me uneasy.
Every corridor seemed to carry memories nobody wanted.
Grandma was awake when I entered. She sat in bed with a magazine open in her lap. Whether she was actually reading it was another question entirely.
The moment she saw me, she smiled. That familiar smile instantly made me feel ten years old again. Safe, protected, and loved.
For a brief moment, I almost forgot everything else.
Then I remembered the photograph in my bag.
"How are you feeling?"
"Much better."
The answer came too quickly. A loving lie.
I pulled a chair beside her bed and sat down. For several moments, neither of us spoke. The silence felt heavier than usual. Like both of us were waiting for the other to begin.
Eventually, I reached into my bag and placed the photograph on the blanket between us.
The reaction was immediate. Grandma froze. The color drained from her face. I had never seen her look like that before. Not once in my entire life.
"Where did you find this?" she whispered.
"It was under your pillow."
Her hand trembled as she reached toward the photograph. She was genuinely afraid. The sight sent a chill through me.
"Grandma?"
She grabbed my wrist.
The strength of her grip surprised me.
"Nera."
The urgency in her voice made my heart race.
"What is it?"
"You must never show this to anyone."
My stomach dropped. Too late.
The words nearly escaped before I stopped myself. Not yet. I needed answers first.
"Why?"
She looked away. The simple gesture hurt more than I expected. Because it meant she was doing it again. Keeping secrets. Protecting something or someone.
"Grandma."
No answer.
"Please."
Still nothing.
Years of frustration rose inside me.
Years of unanswered questions.
Years of being told to wait.
Years of being treated like I wasn't ready to know the truth.
"I'm not a child anymore."
Sadness filled her eyes.
"I know."
"Then tell me."
Finally, I turned the photograph over.
"Someone wrote something on the back."
Her head snapped up.
"What?"
I showed her the words.
"The rightful heir survives."
The room became so quiet I could hear the soft beat of her heart. Grandma stared at the sentence. Then slowly closed her eyes. A single tear slipped down her cheek. My heart broke.
Whatever secret she was carrying had been hurting her for years.
"Nera," she said softly.
Her voice sounded older than I had ever heard it. Heavy with regret.
"One day I'll tell you everything."
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny, but because I had heard those words before.
Exhaustion washed over me. I sat back down and looked away.
"What if we don't have one day?"
The question escaped before I could stop it. Instant regret followed. Pain flashed across her face.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
Her voice trembled.
"You deserve the truth."
Hope stirred inside me. Grandma took a deep breath. Then opened her mouth. The door burst open. A nurse hurried into the room.
"Mrs. Vale, we need to run additional tests."
I closed my eyes. The timing couldn't have been worse. Within minutes, nurses were moving equipment and preparing her for transport. The moment was gone. Just like that.
I watched helplessly as they wheeled her out of the room. And once again, the answers disappeared with her.
That evening, rain tapped softly against the apartment windows.
I sat alone on the couch with a cup of tea growing cold in my hands.
The contract rested on the coffee table. I hadn't signed it. I hadn't rejected it either. My thoughts kept circling the same questions. The surgery. The bills. The fear in my grandmother's eyes. Rhys's reaction to the crest. The sentence on the photograph.
All of these crowded my thoughts.
What if Rhys knew more than he admitted? What if the contract wasn't the only reason he was interested in me? I immediately dismissed the idea. It sounded ridiculous. Didn't it?
A sharp knock interrupted my thoughts. I looked toward the door.
Nobody visited me. Especially not at night. Another knock followed. More insistent this time. Unease settled in my stomach. Slowly, I walked toward the door and looked through the peephole. My breath caught.
A woman stood outside. Elegant, beautiful, expensively dressed. The kind of woman who looked completely out of place in my apartment building.
She wasn't smiling for some reason, which felt worse. She looked like someone who had come with a purpose. My phone vibrated suddenly in my hand. The unexpected sound made me jump.
I glanced down. Unknown number. One new message. I opened it. Don't open the door.
She already knows who you are.
Blood drained from my face.
- Writer
