A Deal Sealed in Ice

Leora had barely slept.

Despite the room’s calm exterior, her thoughts were loud, restless. The faint creak of floorboards above. The cold hush of unfamiliar silence. It all kept her tethered to consciousness until the sun pushed hesitantly through the curtains.

This was no longer her home.

And yet, in some twisted way, it was her only haven.

She stood at the vanity, brushing her tangled hair with hands that refused to steady. Her reflection looked back, pale, stubborn, and unsure.

A knock came at the door. Three sharp raps.

She opened it to find a young woman, no older than twenty-two, dressed in black slacks and a pressed white blouse. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight bun, and her expression was unreadable.

“I’m Maren,” she said. “Mr. Allerick assigned me to you. I’ll assist with your daily needs.”

Leora blinked. “Like a... maid?”

“More like a shadow,” Maren replied flatly. “Breakfast is in fifteen minutes. The boss expects you there.”

Boss. Not husband. Not Don. Just... the boss.

Leora nodded slowly, tugging on a navy cardigan before following her new shadow down the hall. The house was vast and cold, its floors echoing with every step. Metal and marble, darkness and distance, it didn’t feel like anyone lived here.

Until she entered the dining room.

Don Allerick sat at the head of the long table, a black coffee steaming in front of him. Two guards flanked the walls, silent. A third man, a sharp-jawed figure in a tailored suit, stood nearby, scrolling through his phone.

“You’re late,” Allerick said without looking up.

“It’s three minutes past,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “In my world, three minutes is a lifetime.”

Leora moved to the seat beside him, ignoring the flutter in her stomach. The moment she sat, the man with the phone spoke up.

“This is Jalen, my advisor,” Allerick introduced, motioning to the man. “He’ll keep you in line if I’m not around.”

“Charming,” Leora muttered.

Jalen smirked. “We’ll get along just fine.”

A housekeeper brought out plates, eggs, roasted potatoes, toast, and fruit. Leora stared at the food, unsure if she was meant to eat or interrogate it.

Allerick sipped his coffee, watching her over the rim.

“You didn’t sleep,” he said plainly.

“Observant.”

“Just honest.” He set his cup down. “Your face gives you away. You look like a porcelain doll someone forgot to dust.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Was that supposed to be endearing?”

“No,” he replied dryly.

Jalen cleared his throat. “Shall we discuss logistics?”

“Go ahead,” Allerick said.

Jalen turned to her. “As Don Allerick’s wife, contractual or not, your behavior reflects on this family. That means no phone calls to your past life, no visits unless authorized, and no communication with the Valencia household under any circumstances.”

Leora stiffened. “I wasn’t planning to call home.”

“Good,” Jalen said. “Because if you do, we’ll know. Your phone is bugged. Your room, monitored. Your life, tracked.”

Leora glanced at Allerick. “You spying on me?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he said calmly.

She pressed her lips together. “Trust goes both ways.”

He leaned back in his chair. “So earn it.”

Later that day, she stood on the balcony overlooking the estate grounds. The wind was sharp against her skin, but she welcomed it. Anything to distract from the thudding pressure in her chest.

A wedding ring, simple and silver, weighed down her finger like iron. A symbol of chains she’d chosen herself.

The sound of wheels caught her ear.

Allerick rolled toward her from the hallway, a thick folder in his lap.

“You don’t belong here,” he said, stopping beside her.

Leora turned, brows raised. “Then why let me stay?”

He held up the folder. “Because you’re leverage.”

“You said I was safe here.”

“You are,” he replied. “But don’t confuse safety with affection.”

She blinked.

“I’ll keep you alive, Leora,” he continued. “But I won’t play husband. I don’t care about fairy tales. There are rules here. You follow them, we get through this.”

“And if I don’t?”

He smiled coldly. “Then you’ll learn why people fear my name.”

She didn’t flinch.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said.

“You should be.”

Their eyes locked. A strange current passed between them, something like war, something like understanding.

“What's in the folder?” she asked.

“Your schedule. Public appearances. A statement we'll release tomorrow to confirm our marriage.”

“Do I get a say in any of it?”

“No,” he said simply. “But you’ll look beautiful doing it.”

The next day, the world woke to chaos.

News headlines splashed across social media: Don Allerick Weds Rival's Daughter in Secret Ceremony.

Speculation ran wild.

Some said it was love. Others said revenge. Many assumed she was a hostage.

None knew the truth.

And that was how Allerick liked it.

Leora stood beside him in the photo released to the press, stiff, poised, unreadable. Her dress was ivory silk. His suit, black on black. They looked like royalty carved from ice.

“I feel like a mannequin,” she muttered.

“You look like a weapon,” he replied.

As days passed, they moved like chess pieces through public obligations. Events. Appearances. Meetings with people who smiled too much and asked too little.

Behind closed doors, they barely spoke.

Allerick spent his hours behind locked doors with Jalen and a flurry of guards. Leora roamed the halls with Maren trailing like a silent ghost. Meals were formal. Nights, lonelier than ever.

But still....she was free.

Free from Adam. Free from her father. Free to build a life on something other than fear.

Until the phone rang.

She wasn’t supposed to answer it, but it was in the library, and curiosity outweighed obedience.

She lifted the receiver.

Silence.

Then a voice, low, male, and sharp.

“Does he know where you are?”

She froze. “Who is this?”

“Your leash might be cut, Leora, but your blood isn’t forgotten.”

Click.

The line went dead.

She stood frozen, heart pounding.

They’d found her.

She didn’t sleep that night.

Instead, she found herself standing outside Allerick’s study, hand poised to knock.

She wasn’t sure why. Maybe to tell him about the call. Maybe to ask for reassurance she wasn’t ready to admit she needed.

But she never knocked.

She turned and walked away, wedding ring cold against her skin.