Chapter 10
1196 Words
*Elena’s POV*
The morning air was crisp as Elena walked down the east wing hallway toward the library. Nolan had knocked on her door just moments ago, his voice calm and formal.
“Mr Blackwood’s legal representative is ready to walk you through the terms.”
She nodded, tucked her notebook under her arm, and followed without a word.
The library doors were already open.
Inside, soft golden light spilled across the floor. Towering shelves loomed overhead, filled with more books than she could ever read in a lifetime but it wasn’t the books that made her pause.
It was Damian.
He stood near the window in a charcoal vest and slate shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.
Calm and Controlled like always.
And seated beside a leather portfolio at the long oak table was a man with sharp spectacles and a cooler demeanor.
The supposed lawyer.
“Elena,” Damian said, meeting her eyes.
She gave a small nod. “Good morning.”
“This is Mr Asher, my personal legal counsel.”
The man rose. “A pleasure, Miss Morgan.”
“Likewise.”
She took the seat offered to her, fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table.
Asher opened the folder.
Damian remained silent, only occasionally interjecting when legal phrasing became too clinical.
“This is a mutual protection agreement,” Asher began. “No romantic or marital obligations. The union will last a minimum of one year, renewable upon agreement. In return, you will gain full access to financial protection, personal security and independent legal rights. Mr Blackwood gains marital stability for his family and also custody matters.”
Elena listened carefully.
The rhythm of the legal jargon didn’t intimidate her. It reminded her of old hospital forms, of paperwork tied to survival and still, this was different. This time, she was choosing the terms.
No mention of love.
No illusion of partnership.
It was all very clear.
And yet It wasn't cold.
She glanced once at Damian.
He wasn’t looking at her but he wasn’t detached, either.
Asher continued. “You’ll have your own account and your own space. You will not be required to attend events unless explicitly requested, and all travel or public appearance will be discussed beforehand.”
“And after a year?” Elena asked, her voice steady.
“The agreement dissolves. No attachments. No obligations. Mr Blackwood will ensure your legal freedom and financial stability.”
Elena looked back down at the documents. Her fingers brushed the edge of the paper.
“This doesn’t feel real,” she murmured.
“It isn’t,” Damian said, finally speaking. “It’s survival on both ends.”
Elena met his gaze.
She was sure he knew what it meant to need protection. To sign your life into one's hand just to stay afloat.
“I’d like to review this alone before signing,” Elena said quietly.
Asher nodded and began collecting his things. “I’ll be in the foyer.”
He left the folder behind.
Only she and Damian remained.
The room was too quiet now. The sun had shifted, casting long shadows across the table.
“You can take your time,” Damian said, rising from his seat.
Elena stood too.
“You were right, this isn’t real.” Damian paused. “But it’s necessary.”
She looked at him. “Do you ever wish it didn’t have to be?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward the window, where the wind stirred the ivy climbing the stone.
“Yes,” he said finally.
A truth dropped into the room, unspoken but heavy.
Elena closed the folder and held it to her chest.
“I’ll sign it,” she said. “Not because I have to but because I’m choosing this.”
Damian turned back to her. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
*Later That Day — Elena’s POV*
She didn’t sign immediately.
Not out of fear but because she wanted to sign it when she felt certain while alone.
It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to set and the house had grown quiet again that she finally sat down at her desk.
The pen didn’t shake in her hand.
The ink didn’t smudge.
Her signature flowed across the bottom of the page with a quiet finality.
Elena stared at it for a long moment, then closed the folder.
There, it was done.
Not the beginning of a fairy tale.
Not the end of her grief but the first step of a new kind of fight.
She returned the folder to Nolan without hesitation and went to sit outside in the small garden near her wing, the one with roses in bloom and a small worn bench.
There, she breathed.
Just… breathed.
*Damian’s POV — Later That Evening*
Damian didn’t go to the study.
Didn’t return to his usual post-dinner call with Leo.
He walked the halls instead, something he hadn’t done since his brother’s funeral.
He told himself it was just to clear his head.
But his feet took him towards the east wing and there she was.
Not asleep and not waiting, just sitting.
He hesitated in the shadows of the hallway arch, watching her.
She looked like a woman who had chosen her place in the world and dared it to question her right to stand there.
He stepped out gently.
She turned her head after she sensed him.
“No lawyer this time?” she asked softly.
“No.”
“Good,” she said, making room on the bench.
He sat.
They didn’t speak for a long while.
Finally, Elena said, “Thank you for not pushing.”
“I meant it,” he said. “This isn’t about pressure.”
She glanced at him.
“And letting someone have a place when they’ve had none,” she added.
He nodded once.
The wind moved slightly, rustling the petals around them.
For the first time since the contract was mentioned, they shared silence not out of awkwardness but understanding.
And for the first time, Damian felt something dangerous stir inside him.
Something that wasn’t about duty.
Something that could ruin the entire arrangement if he let it grow.
So he stood.
“I’ll let you rest,” he said.
“Damian.”
He paused.
“I meant it, too,” she said. “This isn't a weakness, I'm just surviving.”
He nodded once, then walked away.
But even as he stepped back into the shadows of the house, the image of her seated among the roses stuck with him.
Across the street from the Blackwood estate, a sleek black car sat idle under the cover of shadows.
The driver adjusted his lens, the zoom bringing the east wing’s soft glow into focus.
He muttered under his breath, “No interference.”
His phone buzzed. A new message popped up on the screen:
“Report to me. No mistakes.” — V.L.
The man frowned, glancing again through the lens.
Elena's silhouette appeared briefly.
He took two silent photos.
Saved them and deleted them from preview.
Then replied with a single word
“Watching.”
- Writer
