Dangerous comfort

 The Ultimatum

Olivia Tate pressed her ear against the mahogany door.

Her father’s voice trembled from inside the office.

“…please, Mr. Wilson. If you don’t step in, they’ll shut me down. I’ll lose everything—my name, my company, my freedom.”

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then came another voice. Deep. Cold. Commanding.

“You already know my condition, Mr. Tate. I don’t rescue men for free.”

Olivia frowned, pressing harder against the wood.

Condition?

“What more do you want?” her father pleaded. “I’ll pay you back. I swear on my life—”

“No,” the man cut him off. “What I want is not money.”

Olivia’s stomach tightened.

Something about that voice unsettled her—like a blade sliding across glass.

Her father swallowed audibly. “Then… what is it?”

Another pause. Then, steady as a hammer striking steel:

“Your daughter.”

Olivia’s heart stopped.

She stumbled back from the door, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

No. She must have misheard.

Her father’s daughter?

Her?

Inside, her father’s voice cracked. “M-my daughter?”

“Yes.” The man’s voice was cruelly calm. “Olivia Tate. Marry her to me, and I’ll save your company. Refuse…”

A beat of silence.

“…and you can rot in prison.”

Olivia slapped her hand over her mouth, fighting the scream clawing up her throat.

Her father didn’t answer.

The silence burned.

And then, his whisper: “If this is the only way… then so be it.”

Olivia’s world tilted.

She staggered backward, shaking her head.

No. No, this couldn’t be real.

Not her father. Not him.

And certainly not her.

Before she could move, the door swung open.

Her father froze when he saw her standing there, pale and trembling.

And behind him stood a man in a perfectly tailored black suit. Broad-shouldered. Hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were cold, sharp gray—like winter ice.

The man who had just sold her future with a single sentence.

Nuel Wilson.

Olivia’s breath hitched.

Those gray eyes locked on her, pinning her where she stood.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink.

He simply looked at her as though she was already his.

And then he spoke, his voice smooth and merciless.

“You don’t have a choice, Miss Tate. From this moment forward… you belong to me.”

Olivia’s lips parted, but no sound came out.

Her father’s eyes darted nervously between her and Nuel Wilson, as though searching for an escape he already knew didn’t exist.

“Olivia,” he began softly, his voice cracked and weary. “You don’t understand—”

She stepped back, shaking her head.

“No. No, Father, tell me I didn’t just hear what I think I heard.”

He reached for her arm, but she jerked away.

“You promised me everything would be fine,” she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. “You said you’d fix it. You never said anything about selling me off like—like property!”

Her father flinched at the word, his face ashen.

Behind him, Nuel Wilson remained silent, his tall frame casting a shadow that swallowed the room.

He finally stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking softly against the marble floor.

“You’re not property,” Nuel said calmly. “You’re collateral.”

Olivia froze, her chest tightening.

He said it so casually. As if her life was nothing more than numbers on a ledger.

“You can’t do this to me,” she snapped, finally finding her voice. “You can’t just decide my future!”

Nuel arched a brow, his gray eyes narrowing.

“Your father already decided it for you, Miss Tate. His company collapses without me. And when he collapses, so do you.”

Her father lowered his head, shame etched across his features.

“Nuel—please,” he murmured. “She’s just a girl. Don’t frighten her like this.”

Nuel’s lips curved into the faintest, humorless smile.

“Then perhaps she should grow up faster.”

Olivia’s hand trembled as she clenched her dress, fury and fear twisting inside her.

“You’re a monster,” she whispered.

Nuel didn’t flinch. “And yet I’m the monster who holds your father’s freedom in my hands.”

Her father finally broke, tears filling his tired eyes. “Olivia, please. If I go to prison, I’ll die there. This is the only way. You must do this—for me.”

Olivia’s knees buckled, and she sank into the nearest chair, her entire body trembling.

Her world was collapsing, piece by piece, and she couldn’t stop it.

Nuel stepped closer, towering over her like a dark shadow of inevitability.

He slipped a crisp document onto the table in front of her. The ink shimmered black under the golden light of the chandelier.

A marriage contract.

Her name already typed neatly on the page.

Olivia’s gaze darted from the paper to Nuel’s unyielding eyes.

She shook her head violently. “No. I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice was ice. “You will.”

Her father knelt beside her, gripping her hands. “Please, Olivia. For me. For us. It’s just a marriage on paper. Nothing more.”

Her throat closed.

A marriage on paper? To a man who looked at her like she was already conquered?

Nuel slid a sleek pen across the table toward her.

The sound of it rolling against the glass surface was louder than thunder in her ears.

Her father’s hand tightened on hers. His voice cracked. “Sign it, Olivia.”

Her vision blurred with tears. She stared down at the contract, the letters swimming before her eyes.

With a trembling hand, she picked up the pen.

Nuel watched her, unblinking, his gaze sharp and triumphant.

The ink bled onto the paper as she scrawled her name, each stroke of the pen tearing at her heart.

When she finished, she dropped the pen as if it burned her.

Nuel leaned forward, his lips curving into a cold smirk.

“Good girl.”

He closed the contract with a decisive snap.

Then, lowering his voice just enough for her alone to hear, he whispered:

“Now let’s see how long you survive in my world.”