Chapter Three - Bond by a contract
1003 Words
Chapter Three – Bound by a Contract
Zariah stared at the ceiling of her cramped apartment, the weight of her decision pressing down on her chest like a boulder.
One year.
That was the amount of time she had agreed to belong to Caden Lancaster.
Her fingers traced the heavy diamond ring on her finger, its presence an unspoken reminder of the storm she was walking into. She had spent the entire night tossing and turning, replaying every word, every condition of their arrangement.
Was she making a mistake?
The thought lingered, but so did the reality—without this deal, Monroe Designs would be nothing but a memory.
And she wasn’t ready to let go of her father’s legacy.
A sharp knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts. Zariah sat up, her heart hammering against her ribs. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
She walked to the door, hesitating for a moment before pulling it open.
And there he was.
Caden Lancaster, standing in the dimly lit hallway of her worn-down apartment complex, looks completely out of place.
Dressed in another impossibly tailored black suit, his presence seemed to consume the tiny space. His gaze swept over her, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in the faded walls, the peeling paint, the flickering lightbulb overhead.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Pack your things.”
Zariah folded her arms. “Excuse me?”
“I told you. You’re moving into my penthouse.” His tone was clipped, like he had already decided for her.
“I thought I had a week.”
He stepped closer, and she caught the faint scent of his cologne—rich, dark, intoxicating. “Plans changed.”
Zariah exhaled sharply. “And what if I say no?”
His expression didn’t waver. “Then I’ll have your things packed for you.”
A slow, simmering irritation burned in her chest. “You can’t just show up and bark orders at me.”
His gaze darkened. “I own you now, sweetheart. Get used to it.”
Her stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something else—something dangerous—coiling inside her.
“Fine,” she snapped, shoving past him and into her apartment. “Give me twenty minutes.”
Caden leaned against the doorframe, watching her with unreadable eyes. “Ten.”
—
Thirty Minutes Later – Lancaster Penthouse
Zariah stepped into the penthouse, her breath catching despite herself.
It was a world away from where she had been just hours ago.
The space was breathtaking—expansive glass walls showcased the glittering city skyline, while dark marble floors and sleek furniture screamed power and wealth.
Caden walked ahead of her, his presence effortlessly commanding. “Your room is down the hall.”
Her room.
At least she wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him.
Yet.
She followed him, her heels clicking against the cool marble as she took in the grandeur of his home. Every inch of the penthouse was curated to perfection—just like its owner.
He stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a suite that looked more luxurious than any five-star hotel she had ever stepped foot in.
“This will be yours for the next year,” he said, his tone void of emotion.
Zariah dropped her bag on the plush bed, running her fingers over the expensive silk sheets. The absurdity of it all made her stomach turn.
Just yesterday, she had been struggling to pay rent.
Now, she was standing in a billionaire’s penthouse as his soon-to-be wife.
She turned to face him, crossing her arms. “What now?”
Caden studied her for a moment before speaking. “Tomorrow morning, we sign the marriage contract. The wedding will be in three days.”
Her pulse spiked. “Three days? That’s—”
“Enough time.” His gaze pinned her in place. “We don’t need a grand wedding. Just the legalities and a convincing public image.”
Zariah swallowed hard. “And after that?”
“We play our roles.” He stepped closer, his presence sending a shiver down her spine. “You’ll be Mrs. Lancaster, and the world will believe every damn second of it.”
Her fingers curled into fists at her sides. “You think we can fool everyone?”
Caden smirked. “Sweetheart, by the time I’m done with you, they won’t just believe it.” His voice dropped lower. “They’ll envy it.”
—
The Next Morning – The Marriage Contract
The Lancaster law firm was as intimidating as its owner.
Zariah sat in a sleek leather chair across from Caden, the official contract spread before her. Every line, every clause, and every consequence is laid out in black and white.
She skimmed through it, her stomach twisting as she read the finer details:
- One year of marriage.
- No personal entanglements outside the arrangement.
- Full participation in public appearances and media engagements.
- Absolute discretion.
- Termination of contract upon mutual agreement after one year.
Her throat felt dry.
It was a deal with the devil.
Caden’s lawyer cleared his throat. “Miss Monroe, do you have any questions before signing?”
Zariah looked up, locking eyes with Caden.
Everything in her screamed to run. To get up, walk out, and never look back.
But then she thought about Monroe Designs.
She thought about her father’s legacy.
Slowly, she picked up the pen.
And with a single stroke of ink, she sealed her fate.
Caden reached for his pen next, signing his name with effortless precision.
As soon as the final signature was done, he extended his hand across the table. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Lancaster.”
Zariah hesitated.
Then, with a deep breath, she shook his hand.
His grip was firm, his touch dangerously warm.
And in that moment, she knew—
She had just entered a game she might not survive.
- Writer
