Chapter 4: Playing by the Rules
2234 Words
Saoirse sat at the small wooden table in their cramped but tidy kitchen, staring at the cup of coffee cooling between her hands. The steady hum of the city outside their apartment was familiar, but today, it felt distant—like she was standing at the edge of something irreversible.
Andrea stepped out of their shared bedroom, her long hair still damp from her morning shower. She adjusted the sleeves of her worn-out cardigan as she approached the table. “Ate, you’re up early,” she said softly, concern flickering in her voice.
Saoirse managed a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Andrea took a seat across from her, studying her sister’s face. “Is something wrong?”
Saoirse hesitated. “Not wrong, exactly. But... I have something to tell you.” She took a steadying breath. “I received an offer. A proposal, actually.”
Andrea blinked. “A proposal?”
“A marriage contract.”
Silence. Andrea’s fingers tightened around her glass of water, but she didn’t interrupt.
“It’s from Richard Demonteverde,” Saoirse continued. “The CEO of Demonteverde Technologies.”
Andrea’s eyes widened. “You mean the Richard John A. Demonteverde? The one you see on the news?”
Saoirse nodded. “I’ve never met him, but yes. Him.”
Andrea’s brows furrowed. “Ate, I don’t understand. Why would someone like him—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “What did they say?”
Saoirse's grip on her coffee mug tightened. “He needs a wife for a business merger. It’s a contract marriage. In exchange, he’s offering enough to pay off our debts and cover all your medical expenses—including the surgery.”
Andrea’s expression shifted, the initial shock giving way to quiet understanding. “Ate...” Her voice was soft, hesitant. “I know I need the surgery, but... this isn’t right. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice yourself for me.”
Saoirse reached across the table, taking Andrea’s hand in hers. “This isn’t a sacrifice, Andy. This is a choice. My choice.”
Andrea lowered her gaze, guilt flashing in her eyes. “But what about you? What if he treats you badly?”
“I can handle him,” Saoirse said, her voice steady. “It’s just for a year. And I won’t let anyone—him included—push me around.”
Andrea bit her lip, her grip on Saoirse's hand tightening. “If this is what you truly want, Ate, I won’t question you. But please... be careful.”
Saoirse gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I will be.”
A heavy silence settled between them before Andrea finally let out a small, reluctant laugh. “At least tell me he’s ugly.”
Saoirse smirked. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve only seen his pictures.”
Andrea groaned, burying her face in her hands. “That means he’s not.”
Saoirse chuckled, though the weight in her chest remained. No matter how much she tried to ease Andrea’s worries, a part of her couldn’t shake her own doubts. This wasn’t just a contract—it was a leap into the unknown.
Hours later, as the car pulled up to the grand Demonteverde estate, that weight only grew heavier. The towering iron gates, adorned with intricate gold accents, swung open with an air of quiet authority. Saoirse stared out the window, her fingers gripping her bag tightly. Even from the outside, the mansion exuded wealth and power, its manicured gardens and pristine marble facade almost overwhelming.
Amara sat beside her, calm and composed as always. “Remember, Saoirse,” she began, her tone even, “this meeting is just to finalize the agreement. Be honest, but stay professional. Richard can be... particular.”
Saoirse glanced at Amara, nerves bubbling under the surface. “Particular? That’s comforting,” she muttered dryly, earning a small smirk from Amara. "Do you mind elaborating on that?"
Amara’s smirk lingered as she folded her hands neatly in her lap. “Richard values efficiency. He doesn’t like wasting time on small talk, and he expects the people around him to be just as sharp as he is. He’s meticulous, calculated—every decision he makes serves a purpose.” She paused, meeting Saoirse's gaze. “That includes this marriage.”
Saoirse exhaled slowly, gripping the contract in her lap. “Right. No pressure at all.”
Amara tilted her head slightly. “You’ll be fine, as long as you remember the rules. Keep things professional, follow the contract, and don’t take anything personally.”
Saoirse frowned. “You make it sound like I should be bracing for battle.”
Amara’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “With Richard Demonteverde? It’s not far from the truth.”
Saoirse swallowed, a knot tightening in her stomach. She barely had time to process Amara’s words before the car slowed to a stop. The driver stepped out and opened the door, and Saoirse took a deep breath, steeling herself as she followed Amara into the mansion.
The grand foyer was even more intimidating than the exterior—high ceilings with chandeliers, polished marble floors, and art pieces that probably cost more than everything she had ever earned.
A butler approached, bowing slightly. “Miss Infante, Miss Alba. Mr. Demonteverde is waiting for you in the study.”
The walk to the study felt like a journey through a museum, the walls lined with expensive artwork and photographs of the Demonteverde family. Saoirse caught a glimpse of a younger Richard in one frame, standing beside an older man who must have been his father. The resemblance was striking—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and an aura of authority even in a still image.
Despite Richard's intimidating presence, Saoirse couldn’t deny that he was handsome—annoyingly so. It was effortless, like he had been born to command attention. The kind of handsome that made her stomach flutter before she could remind herself why she was here. She shook her head, pushing away the unexpected warmth creeping up her neck. Now was not the time for nonsense.
Before she could dwell on it any longer, they arrived at their destination. The butler stepped forward, pulling open the double doors to the study. Inside, the room was vast, lined with bookshelves and anchored by a large mahogany desk. Behind it stood Richard John Demonteverde, his presence commanding even in stillness.
He was taller than Saoirse expected, his tailored suit emphasizing broad shoulders and a presence that filled the room. His dark eyes locked onto hers the moment she entered, sharp and assessing. A jolt of unease ran through her. It wasn’t just the wealth surrounding him—it was the way he looked at her, like he was measuring her worth with every passing second.
Amara broke the silence with her usual composed tone. “Mr. Demonteverde, this is Saoirse Zandrea Alba.”
Richard’s gaze didn’t waver. “So, this is her?” His voice was low and cool, his tone bordering on dismissive.
Saoirse stiffened, a flicker of irritation cutting through her nerves. She straightened, meeting his gaze head-on. “Yes, this is me. And you must be him.”
Amara shot her a warning glance, but Richard showed no reaction. Instead, he gestured for them to sit, taking his place behind the massive desk.
“You’re blunt,” he remarked, his tone remaining impassive.
“And you’re rude,” Saoirse replied before she could stop herself. “Is this how you greet everyone you plan to marry?”
Amara coughed lightly, but Richard didn’t look offended. If anything, something flickered in his gaze—mild curiosity, maybe. Then, for the briefest second, the corner of his lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but enough to make Saoirse's pulse jump.
“I see you’re not afraid to speak your mind,” Richard mused, leaning back. “That’s unexpected.”
Saoirse crossed her arms. “I wasn’t expecting to be here in the first place, so I guess we’re both surprised.”
Richard studied her, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you even understand what you’re getting into?”
Saoirse hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “I understand enough. This is a business arrangement, isn’t it? You need a wife for your merger, and I need the money. It’s straightforward.”
Richard’s expression hardened. “This isn’t just about money, Miss Alba. You’ll be stepping into my world—a world that’s unforgiving and relentless. People will scrutinize you, judge you, and try to tear you apart. Are you prepared for that?”
Saoirse's stomach twisted, but she refused to look away. “I’ve been through enough in my life to know how to handle judgment. I’m not afraid of hard situations.”
Richard leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the desk. “And what about pretense? Can you pretend to be someone you’re not? Smile at people who don’t deserve it? Play the perfect wife while the world watches?”
For the first time, real doubt flickered in Saoirse's mind. But she pushed it aside. “I’m not here to be perfect, Mr. Demonteverde. I’m here to do what’s needed. If you want a robot, look elsewhere.”
A tense silence stretched between them. Amara shifted slightly, as if debating whether to intervene. But Richard only studied Saoirse a moment longer before leaning back, his expression giving nothing away.
“You’re... different,” he murmured, almost to himself.
Saoirse raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
This time, there was no mistaking it—a smirk ghosted across his lips. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that. But boldness isn’t always enough.”
“I’ll let you know when it isn’t,” she shot back.
Richard stood, signaling the meeting was over. “Fine. Amara will finalize the details with you. The wedding will take place in three weeks. Be prepared.”
Saoirse rose as well, keeping her expression neutral despite the storm inside her. “I’m always prepared.”
He studied her for a moment before adding, “We’ll meet again for the contract signing. Amara will let you know the details.”
She turned to leave, determined to hold onto her composure, but his voice stopped her.
“One more thing.”
Saoirse glanced over her shoulder, meeting his cold gaze.
“This isn’t a fairytale, Miss Alba. Don’t expect a happy ending.”
A slow breath steadied her. “Good thing I’m not a fan of fairytales.”
Then, without waiting for a response, she walked away, her steps measured, her heart hammering in her chest.
As they left the mansion, Amara let out a long breath. “You certainly don’t hold back, do you?”
Saoirse shrugged. “If he wanted someone docile, he picked the wrong person.”
Amara chuckled, shaking her head. “He needs someone who can challenge him, whether he admits it or not. I think you’ll do just fine.”
Just as they reached the car, Saoirse's phone buzzed in her bag. Pulling it out, she saw a message from Andrea:
"Did you do it, Ate? So… is he ridiculously handsome, or just a playboy who thinks he is?"
She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Richard Demonteverde was cold, calculating, and undeniably intimidating. But he wasn’t exactly what she had expected.
She typed back, "Annoyingly good-looking, unfortunately. And way too sharp for comfort. This won’t be easy."
She hit send, exhaling softly as she stared at the screen. Whatever she had expected from Richard Demonteverde, reality had proven far more complicated.
The car rolled out of the driveway, and Amara broke the silence. “By the way, Richard knows about Andrea.”
Saoirse's fingers tightened around her phone. She turned sharply to face Amara. “What do you mean, he knows about Andrea?”
Amara adjusted the cuff of her sleeve. “Richard does his research. He knew about your sister before he even considered you for this deal.”
Saoirse's stomach twisted. “Why?”
Amara sighed. “Because this isn’t just about the merger. Richard doesn’t make deals without leverage. And your sister? She’s part of his strategy.”
The air in the car grew heavier. Saoirse clenched her jaw. “What kind of strategy?”
Amara glanced out the window, choosing her words carefully. “The kind that keeps you in line. If you ever think about walking away or going against him, he’ll make sure Andrea’s future is at stake.”
A slow chill ran through Saoirse. "He wouldn't—"
Amara cut her off gently. "Richard Demonteverde doesn’t leave room for uncertainty."
Saoirse stared out at the passing city lights, her mind racing. She had known she was stepping into dangerous territory, but she hadn't realized just how tightly Richard intended to hold the reins.
Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to breathe. If Richard thought he could control her through Andrea, he was underestimating her.
She turned back to Amara, her voice steady. “Then let’s see how long he can hold onto that power.”
The car rolled through the city, and for the first time since stepping into Richard’s office, Saoirse's thoughts were clear.
She wasn’t just playing by his rules. She was going to find a way to win.
- Writer
