Married by Contract

The Silence After a Storm

Peter's tone was piercing. Controlled, but I could hear the warning below. I approached the desk with a slow step, my bare feet grazing the thick rug. The image was already ingrained in his memory as the tablet screen turned to face me. Not yet mine.

When I saw that it was a photo of me from yesterday, everything inside of me froze. After the ceremony, I was standing outside the café where Iris had dropped me off. The image showed a man behind me, blurred in the background, but it appeared as though his hand was reaching for me.

I muttered, "I didn't speak to him."

Peter remained motionless. "I didn't inquire if you did."

My throat constricted. "So why show me this?"

He fixed his gaze on mine. chilly. Making calculations.

"Because my private number was used to receive this photo." Untraceable. Not a message. Only this.

Once more, I gazed at the screen. My back ached.

He inquired, "Do you know him?"

"No. I didn't even see him. I went to get some water. That's all.

With a soft thump, Peter set the tablet flat on the desk. "You shouldn't have gone by yourself."

"I didn't think—" "That's right." He moved around the desk. "You didn't consider."

It wasn't a loud word. However, they cut more deeply than if he had screamed.

"I apologize," I muttered.

"That is insufficient." Too close, he stopped in front of me. "Mira, there's a reason we have rules. Everything is at risk when someone is observing you. including you.

I took a deep breath. "I didn't intend to defy. I simply needed air.

His jaw was clenched as he looked at me. "Tell me next time. Or stay put.

I gave a quick nod.

He didn't retreat.

His voice was low as he asked, "Do you understand what this marriage means?" It's more than just a contract. It serves as a defense. I now own you. That is a consequence of having adversaries.

"Yes," I muttered.

Though, I didn't. Not at all.

Peter took another look at me and moved away.

"I've added more security. You must always have them with you from now on. No exceptions.

I encircled myself with my arms. "Am I in danger?"

His gaze returned to mine. "Perhaps."

My heart leaped.

He went on, "But I won't let anything happen to you."

I blinked. It was nearly impossible to hear the softness in his voice. Nearly, he then turned back to his desk as though he had realized he had said too much. "You're free to leave."

I paused. "Peter—"

"Go."

I went out.

I paced back and forth in my room. The terror remained. It had simply coiled itself more tightly around my lungs.

I had been followed. captured a picture. I forwarded it to him.

Why?

Why now, too?

The silence grew louder by the second as I sank onto the bed's edge. My phone began to vibrate. To divert attention, I reached for it. A single new message. The unknown figure, I made a click. He can't keep you safe all the time. The room whirled. I dropped the phone on the bed after locking it, my hands shaking. The danger wasn't ambiguous.

It was intimate and authentic. Dinner was quiet that night, between bites, Peter, who was seated at the head of the long table, browsed through his phone. I didn't even touch the food. As soon as I read that message, my appetite was gone.

It wasn't until I pushed my plate away that he turned to face me.

“You’re not eating.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He set his phone down and leaned back. “Did something else happen?”

I hesitated.

Lying felt useless.

I nodded.

Peter’s expression darkened. “What?”

I handed him my phone with trembling fingers. He read the message. His jaw locked, without a word, he stood and left the room.

I sat frozen, staring at the empty chair.

Fifteen minutes later, Iris knocked on my door. “Mr. Blackwood wants you downstairs. Now.”

I followed her to a part of the penthouse I hadn’t seen before. A smaller study, lined with bookshelves and security monitors.

Peter stood inside, speaking quietly to a man in a dark suit. When I entered, he dismissed the man with a nod.

He turned to me. “We’re escalating protection. Changing numbers. Blocking everything.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“Not yet.”

I stepped closer. “Peter, why would someone do this?”

He looked at me. For once, I saw more than control in his eyes. I saw calculation. Anger. And something else… something more protective.

“Because marrying me means stepping into my world,” he said. “And not everyone welcomes you.”

He paused.

“But I do.”

The words surprised me more than the threat had.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

Peter closed the space between us, slowly.

“I know you didn’t want this,” he murmured. “But now you’re mine. And no one touches what’s mine.”

My breath caught.

His hand brushed my hair back gently, fingers lingering behind my ear.

“I won’t let them scare you, Mira,” he said. But you’ll do exactly what I say. Understood?”

I nodded, my voice caught in my throat.

“Good.”

His hand dropped, and the moment vanished as quickly as it came.

“Go to bed.”

I turned to leave.

“And Mira,” he said from behind me.

I paused.

“I always keep what’s mine.”

"What belongs to me will always belong to me."

Between us, his words fell like icy steel. The edge of the desk brushed my hip as I took a step back.

I said in a low voice, "I'm not something to be owned."

Petter's mouth curled, but it wasn't even close to a smile.

"No," he whispered. But you're still mine, Mira. on paper, in name. And now...

He looked down at the inside of my wrist, where his hand was still leaving a faint mark on the skin.

"Someone is keeping a close eye on what is rightfully mine."

Once more, he turned the tablet in my direction. The same picture of me with a cup in the café. But I saw it this time. A figure behind the column, barely visible and blurred. A shaped shadow. I stared at it.

“You think this is a threat?”

“I think someone’s trying to scare you.” He stepped closer. “Or me.”

Dread curled low in my stomach. I wanted to tell him no, that he was wrong. But I couldn’t.

Because deep down, I felt it too.

“You’ll have two guards from now on,” he said flatly. “A driver. You don’t go anywhere without telling me.”

“No,” I snapped. “You’re not locking me in a tower.”

His jaw tensed. “The day you walked down that aisle, Mira, you gave up freedom. And I won’t let anyone take you.

Not again.”

"Once more?" I muttered.

Before I could stop it, the word escaped. Petter stopped. Something flashed in his eyes, but it wasn't anger. Something unprocessed.

He said, "Go to your room. “I gazed at him. "What do you not tell me?

"He didn't respond.

He quickly typed on his phone as he turned away. Then I noticed it. His face turned white.

"What is it?" I inquired. He tightened his jaw. “Your father just got a call from his nurse. “I caught his attention.

“She’s not there."