Chapter 5: Contractually Yours

Jem's POV

Three weeks had passed since the night of the rain.

Three weeks of disappearing into survival—sleeping in the restaurant’s laundry room, working double shifts just to stay unseen, and eating whatever scraps the kitchen staff left behind.

My body had adjusted to exhaustion in a way that felt permanent now, like fatigue had become part of my bones.

I didn’t go home anymore.

Not after my landlord’s call.

Men in black suits had come looking for me that same night after the bridge incident—I have no idea who they were.

But I was certain there were loan sharks I owed money from different companies, debts I had stacked up and abandoned the moment my mother’s hospital bills began swallowing everything I earned.

My landlord told me they were desperate to find me, even offering millions to anyone who could give them my location.

They had even broken into my apartment.

That was enough for me.

So I stayed hidden.

The laundry room in the restaurant where I worked became my world.

The serum, however, wasn’t with me.

It was still at the lab.

The doctor kept delaying the results, saying the substance required deeper testing before anything could be confirmed safe for human use. I didn’t push him anymore. I just waited. That was all I seemed capable of doing lately—waiting, surviving, and avoiding being found by those loan sharks in black suits.

I couldn't believe they had gone as far as offering millions just to get my landlord to reveal my location.

It was past ten on a Tuesday night when I finally ended my shift.

My body ached as I removed my apron, the kind of exhaustion that didn’t sit on the surface but dragged deep inside the chest.

My only plan was to return to the laundry room and collapse until morning came again.

That was my sole plan until I checked my emails.

One message. Unread. Forgotten. It came in earlier today around 10am in the morning.

A high paying waiter job at an elite private gala.

Just two days of work that would earn me more than two months of what I was currently surviving on.

I read it twice.

Not because I was confused—but because I needed to confirm it was real. I remembered sending my application letter last two weeks but I never thought they'd hired me.

I didn’t bother asking who hosted it. I didn’t care. Money was the only detail that mattered now.

I grabbed my bag and left for the train station immediately.

*********

After four hours on the road, the estate finally appeared long before I was ready for it.

Even the road leading up to it felt different—too quiet, too controlled, like it belonged to a world I had never been invited into.

And when I finally arrived at the gate, I stopped without realizing I had stopped.

I had seen expensive places before—on screens, in passing glimpses—but nothing prepared me for this.

The building rose like something carved out of authority itself. Glass, stone, symmetry—everything about it screamed wealth that didn’t need to announce itself.

I was still staring when two maids approached.

“Welcome, Jem,” one of them said politely. “We’ve been expecting you.”

I barely processed the words.

I was led inside before I could fully gather my thoughts.

The interior only made things worse.

Clean silence. Expensive air. A kind of order that felt unnatural to someone like me.

By the time they showed me to my room on the fourth floor, I had already stopped pretending I understood what kind of place this was.

It looked more like a luxury hotel suite than staff accommodation.

Soft lighting. Fresh sheets. A bed that looked like it didn’t belong to someone who washed dishes for a living.

I sat down.

And sleep took me before I even agreed to it.

************

I woke to chaos.

The estate that had felt like a grave of silence earlier was now alive—footsteps, voices, movement echoing through the halls like something important had just entered the building.

I checked my wristwatch.

The time was past eleven in the evening.

I stepped out almost immediately and nearly collided with a maid rushing past.

"Get downstairs," she snapped without slowing. "Mara is here."

I frowned. "Who?"

She didn't answer.

She just kept running.

The name lingered anyway, sitting strangely in my chest like something I couldn't quite shake off.

“Mara?” I whispered to myself quietly.

The same name as the woman who had destroyed my life three weeks ago and was currently sleeping peacefully somewhere while I hid in laundry rooms and borrowed floors.

Then I told myself it meant nothing. It was a common name.

Half the world could be named Mara and it still wouldn’t have anything to do with my ex-girlfriend.

My ex wasn’t the only Mara in the world, so there was no reason to read meaning into it.

I pushed the thought aside and went downstairs.

By the time I reached the lower floor, whoever this Mara was had already disappeared into the main hallway, surrounded by bodyguards and staff flooding around her like she owned the entire building.

I couldn't see her clearly, just the aftermath of her arrival.

So I simply stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched the commotion settle.

Then slowly, I turned away from the frenzy and headed back toward my room.

I didn't know why, but for some reason, I didn't completely feel safe in this house anymore.