Chapter 7 Signing the contract

"Clause 6. That is actually my favourite." Bentley started. "You are not allowed to go anywhere without my permission. Default and you'll be punished. Is that what it says, Miss Sinclair?" Bentley asked, his gaze remaining fixated on her.

"Yes," she mumbled, finally tearing her gaze away from the stark black lettering. "That's what it says."

Bentley leaned back in his chair, a predatory glint in his eyes. "A necessary evil, wouldn't you say, Nova? Given the circumstances."

"But wait. Are you trying to say that I am not allowed the freedom to go out as I please?"

Bentley turned to Franco, his silent stare urging Franco to explain the situation to her.

"You get it all wrong Miss Nova. My boss is trying to say that you can go out anytime but you will tell him first. All these are to ensure your protection. There are so many bad eyes out there. My boss doesn't like scandals. He protects his business. Business is very important to him so he must protect you since you are now his responsibility," Franco explained.

"Oh okay. I understand now," she said, the words tasting like ash in her mouth. 

At least, it wasn't that bad. She was still allowed her freedom, only that she needed a little bit of permission which to her wasn't bad at all.

A flicker of something akin to satisfaction crossed Bentley's face. He gestured towards the contract again. "Anything else that troubles you, Miss Sinclair? Any other clauses that require clarification?"

"No," she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. "Everything seems… clear. The last clause says that this contract will last until i, the signee decides to leave. I don't have a problem with that."

"Just so you know, you asked for this and I made it official, right?"

"Right. Don't worry. I won't cause any problems for you. I will only follow that which is written in the contract until I'm ready to leave."

"Good. Now why don't we make it official then? Sign here if you concur." Bentley reached across the table and tapped his pen against the signature line.

Nova stared at the pen, a war raging within her. A part of her yearned for freedom, for the life she'd left behind. It wasn't like she was caged here but she never imagined that a thing like this would happen. Yet, the alternative was far worse. Getting engaged to be married to a man she didn't want. Never.

She picked up the pen. Bentley's eyes gleamed with a dark anticipation as she signed her name and signature on the dotted line. The moment the ink dried, a wave of finality washed over her. She was bound to him, a captive princess in a luxurious prison. At least for the meantime.

Bentley retrieved the contract, his expression unreadable. "Welcome aboard, Miss Sinclair," he said, his voice devoid of warmth. "Come Franco, we have important matters to discuss," he said, referring to Franco as he stood up from his seat.

"What about your food? Are you done having dinner?" Nova asked, stopping him in his tracks.

Bentley stared at her silently before gesturing to Franco to follow him.

They both walked away, the sound of their footsteps echoing into the distance.

As soon as they were out of sight, Nova didn't hesitate to vent out her frustration.

'Argh, he's so annoying," she picked up her cutlery again. "Makes me wanna punch him in the face. Like, give him an uppercut or something," she took a chunk of food into her mouth but was a bit displeased that it had gotten cold. "Whatever. I don't care."

....

"I do not understand what you are saying, officer? I just showed you CCTV footage showing that my daughter is missing!" 

Dominic Sinclair was totally enraged since the disappearance of his daughter. He has been trying to convince the police for the past hour that his daughter has been kidnapped but they insisted that she wasn't.

"We understand the tension, Mr Sinclair. From this footage, we can see your daughter getting into someone's car on her own. She wasn't forced into the car from what we see here. And also, it took a while before the car drove off," the policeman explained.

"Okay, what about the missing person case that I am trying to file?"

"You can't file a missing person's case until 24 hours after disappearance."

"Jesus Christ! What is this?! Are you even listening to yourself? You say that my daughter isn't missing? So why isn't she here yet?" Dominic asked frantically.

"Honey please calm down," Victoria gently held her husband's arms. "I'm sure that our daughter is just trying to sort things out for a while." Victoria finished, her voice laced with a tremor of doubt that did little to soothe Dominic's rising temper.

Dominic slammed his fist on the table, the metallic clang echoing through the otherwise sterile police station. "Victoria, how can you be so calm? Our daughter is missing! Gone! And these buffoons here won't even take a missing person's report!"

The officer, a young man named Miller, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Sir, we understand your concern, but we have procedures to follow. If your daughter walks in right now, we can't exactly hold her against her will, can we?"

Dominic glared at Miller, his anger barely contained. "Try telling that to a father whose daughter has vanished without a trace!"

Just then, another officer, Officer Ramirez, a woman with a kind face and sharp eyes, entered the precinct. She caught the tail end of the conversation and approached Miller.

"What's going on here, Miller?" she asked, her voice firm but gentle.

Miller filled her in on the situation, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. The woman listened intently, then turned to Dominic.

"Mr. Sinclair, is there anything else you can tell us about your daughter's disappearance? Maybe somewhere she might have gone, someone she might have contacted?"

Dominic sighed, his anger giving way to a crushing despair. "Nova never runs away. She wouldn't leave without a word, not to a friend, not to us. We have asked Chloe, her favourite maid, but she is just as tense as us."

"Then what prompted her disappearance? From what I can see in this video, your daughter was running away from something. Or someone. What happened inside your house, Mr Sinclair?”