THE TYRANT'S CONTRACT WIFE

Chapter 2: The Tyrant’s Judgment

The buzzing of the phone on the nightstand cut through the suffocating silence of the bedroom like a physical blow.

Killian didn't break eye contact with Elena. His storm-grey eyes remained locked onto her trembling, defiant face, tracking the way her chest rose and fell with every ragged breath. His large hand slowly slid away from her jaw, leaving behind a burning sensation on her skin, but his presence still pinned her firmly against the headboard.

He reached over and snatched the phone. When he looked at the screen, the dangerous edge in his posture didn't disappear, but it shifted. A mask of cold neutrality settled over his handsome features.

He swiped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "Grandfather," Killian said. His voice was completely different now—smooth, respectful, and entirely devoid of the murderous rage he had just directed at Elena.

From her position on the bed, Elena could hear the faint, raspy sound of an elderly man’s voice filtering through the speaker. “Killian... my boy. Is it done? Are you at the estate with Chloe? The media is trying to sniff around, but my doctors say my blood pressure can't handle any more scandals this week.”

Elena held her breath. Her heart hammered against her ribs so loudly she was certain Killian could hear it. If Killian told the old man the truth right now—that the Vance family had committed fraud and sent a substitute—the alliance would shatter. Killian would destroy Harold, and Harold would pull her mother's life support out of spite. Her mother's life hung entirely on the next words out of this billionaire's mouth.

Killian glanced down at Elena. His eyes ran over her crumpled wedding dress, her messy chestnut hair, and the desperate, pleading look in her amber eyes. He let out a slow, calculated exhale.

"Yes, Grandfather. It's done," Killian lied smoothly, his voice unwavering. "The papers are signed. We are at the estate now. You don't need to worry about the media or the Vance family. Everything went according to plan."

On the other end of the line, the old man let out a heavy sigh of relief that sounded more like a wheeze. “Good. Good. You know this arrangement is the only thing keeping the board members quiet, Killian. I want to see her. Bring your new wife to the family manor for dinner tomorrow evening. Let an old man see the girl who finally tamed my grandson.”

Killian’s jaw tightened, a subtle muscle twitching in his cheek. "Of course. We will be there by seven. Get some rest, Grandfather."

The line went dead.

Killian slowly lowered the phone, his gaze dropping back down to Elena like a guillotine. The brief flash of warmth he had faked for his grandfather vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling frost.

"You should thank whatever gods you pray to that my grandfather's heart is failing," Killian murmured, tossing the phone back onto the nightstand. He walked over to his sleek, dark mahogany desk across the room, opening a drawer and pulling out a crisp, heavy folder. "Because of his health, I cannot afford a public scandal or a sudden divorce. Not right now."

Elena sat up, her hands clutching the tulle of her skirt to keep them from shaking. "So... you're not going to ruin my family tonight?"

"Harold Vance will get exactly what he deserves in due time," Killian replied coldly, walking back toward the bed. He tossed the heavy folder onto the mattress right in front of her. "But for the next six months, you are going to play a part. You wanted a chance to save your mother? Here it is."

Elena looked down at the folder. In bold, elegant lettering across the front, it read: NON-DISCLOSURE AND MUTUAL MARRIAGE AGREEMENT.

"Open it," he commanded.

With trembling fingers, Elena flipped the cover open. Her eyes scanned the legal jargon, picking out the most critical points.

"Six months," Killian explained, pacing the floor at the foot of the bed like a wolf monitoring its prey. "You will live here, under my roof. You will attend every public event, every family dinner, and every corporate gala by my side. To the rest of the world, and especially to my grandfather, you are my doting, deeply-in-love wife. You will use the name Chloe Vance in public. No one can know you are a substitute."

Elena swallowed hard. "And what happens after six months?"

"After six months, my grandfather's medical treatments will be completed, and my position as the undisputed CEO of Sterling Enterprises will be legally locked in," Killian said, stopping to look at her. "At that point, we will quietly file for a divorce citing irreconcilable differences. You will vanish from this city, and I will pay you a settlement of five million dollars."

Five million dollars. To Elena, that was an astronomical amount of money—enough to ensure her mother received the best private medical care for the rest of her life without ever needing to rely on her abusive stepfather again.

"And my mother's current clinic bills?" Elena pressed, her voice gaining a fraction of strength. "Harold threatened to stop payments tonight."

"The moment your signature is on that paper, my accountants will take over the full funding of your mother’s medical care," Killian stated. "She will be moved to a private Sterling-owned facility tomorrow morning. Harold won't be able to touch her."

It sounded like a dream rescue, but Elena knew dealing with a tyrant always came with a catch. "What are the rules?"

Killian leaned forward, placing both hands on the footboard of the bed, his storm-grey eyes narrowing. "Rule number one: Absolute obedience in public. If I hold your hand, you hold mine. If I smile at you, you look at me like I am the center of your universe. Rule number two: Absolute separation in private. We sleep in separate rooms. You do not touch my things, you do not enter my private study, and you do not pry into my life. And rule number three..."

He paused, his voice dropping to a dangerously sharp whisper.

"...Do not think that because you are sleeping under my roof, you have a claim on me. Do not fall in love with me, Elena. I do not have a heart, and I do not tolerate gold-diggers."

Elena felt a sting of anger clear away her fear. He thought she wanted him? He thought she cared about his billions? She only wanted her mother to live.

"You don't have to worry about that, Mr. Sterling," Elena said, reaching for the sleek metal pen clipped to the folder. She looked him dead in the eye, her amber eyes flashing with a fierce light. "I am only here for my mother. Your heart is the last thing I want."

Without hesitation, she flipped to the final page and pressed the pen to the paper. She signed her name—Elena Vance—with a sharp, definitive stroke.

Killian watched her sign, a strange, unreadable expression passing through his metallic eyes. He hadn't expected her to be this decisive. He picked up the signed folder, checking her signature before closing it with a sharp snap.

"Your belongings will be brought here from the Vance estate first thing in the morning," Killian said, turning his back on her as he walked toward the door of the master suite. "The maids will show you to your room across the hall. Wash your face, Elena. Tomorrow, your life as the billionaire's wife begins."

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Elena alone in the massive room. She let out a long breath she felt like she’d been holding for hours, her knees shaking as she finally stood up from the bed. She had survived the tyrant's judgment.

But as she walked toward the mirror to look at her pale reflection, a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit her stomach, forcing her to gasp and clutch the bathroom counter.