The Contract That Owned Her
952 Words
Elara barely felt the elevator move as it carried her back down from Damon Blackwell’s office.
Her left hand burned.
The diamond ring sat on her finger like a brand.
It glittered under the fluorescent lights, mocking her, a beautiful lie that hid the truth beneath it: she had just sold herself to the man who had destroyed her family.
The doors opened, but she didn’t step out.
“Come,” Damon said beside her.
She flinched. She hadn’t even heard him walk up. He stood far too close now, his presence overwhelming, his shadow swallowing her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To make it official,” he replied. “A verbal agreement is worthless. I want you legally bound.”
“I already signed.”
“That was intent,” he said. “This is ownership.”
The word made her stomach twist.
They stepped into another elevator, one that required his fingerprint to activate. It shot upward even higher than before, rising above the office floors into a private level of Blackwell Tower that only he could access.
The doors opened into a sleek corridor lined with dark wood and glass.
“This is where my lawyers work,” Damon said. “They specialize in… complicated arrangements.”
That was one way to put it.
A man and a woman were already waiting inside a glass conference room. They stood when Damon entered, nodding respectfully.
“Mr. Blackwell.”
“Prepare the marriage contract,” Damon said. “Standard terms. No mercy clauses.”
Elara’s breath caught. “No what?”
The woman glanced at her with faint pity.
“Please sit, Mrs. Blackwell.”
“I’m not—” Elara started.
Damon’s hand closed around her wrist, warm and unyielding.
“Yes, you are.”
He pulled her to a chair and pushed her down.
The lawyer slid a thick stack of papers across the table. The pages looked endless.
“This contract outlines your obligations as Mr. Blackwell’s legal spouse,” the woman said. “Please read carefully.”
Elara picked it up.
The first page made her heart sink.
Exclusive marital rights.
Full residency requirement.
Public appearances as required.
No romantic or s****l relationships outside the marriage.
It went on.
And on.
Her chest tightened with every line.
“You expect me to live with you?” she asked.
“Yes,” Damon replied. “In my house.”
“You expect me to pretend to love you?”
“In public, yes.”
“And in private?” she demanded.
Damon’s gaze darkened.
“In private, you will do what a wife does.”
Her fingers trembled. “So this is p**********n with paperwork?”
“If you want to be crude.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re desperate,” he countered. “That’s why you’re here.”
She swallowed hard. “What about my father?”
“Once this is signed, his charges will be… reconsidered.”
“Reconsidered isn’t the same as freed.”
Damon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.
“Do you think you’re in a position to negotiate?”
Elara glared at him. “You’re evil.”
He smiled faintly. “Perhaps. But I’m the only evil who can save your father.”
The lawyers waited in silence.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
She kept reading.
Obedience clause.
Confidentiality agreement.
Penalty for breach: financial and legal consequences.
“This is s*****y,” she whispered.
“This is marriage,” Damon said coldly. “Mine.”
She looked up at him. “What happens if I refuse to sleep with you?”
His jaw tightened.
“You won’t.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Then I will enforce the contract.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. “With what? Force?”
“Don’t test me.”
Fear curled through her.
She signed anyway.
When she finished, the woman collected the pages and placed them in a folder.
“Congratulations,” she said softly. “You are now legally married.”
Damon stood.
“Pack your things,” he said. “You’re moving in tonight.”
“I have a job,” Elara protested. “I have classes—”
“You had a life,” he corrected. “Now you have me.”
His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then looked back at her.
“It’s done.”
“What’s done?”
“Your father has been released pending review. He’s being transferred home.”
Elara gasped. “You—You really did it?”
“I keep my word.”
Relief crashed over her so suddenly that her legs nearly gave out.
“You see?” Damon said. “Already, you’re benefiting from being my wife.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s fine,” he replied. “Love is not required.”
They left the tower in silence.
Damon’s car waited outside—a sleek black monster that matched him too well. He opened the door for her.
“Get in.”
She hesitated.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
She slid inside.
As the car pulled away, Elara stared out at the city that was slowly disappearing behind them.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“My home.”
“And after that?”
Damon’s gaze met hers in the reflection of the window.
“After that,” he said quietly, “your training begins.”
A chill ran down her spine.
“Training for what?”
“To be my wife.”
Her heart dropped.
And she realized this nightmare was only just beginning.
- Writer
