You belong to me now Abi, so act like it!

Edward watched as Abigail’s trembling hand lifted from the contract, the ink still wet where she had signed away her freedom.  

Pathetic.  

He picked up the document, scanning her shaky signature. “Messy,” he muttered, flipping it closed. “I expected more from you.”  

She didn’t respond.  

Edward leaned back, watching her, the way her fingers twitched in her lap, the way her shoulders curled inward, like she was still trying to protect something.  

Foolish girl.  

He placed the contract aside and took a sip of his whiskey. “You’ll move in tomorrow.”  

Her head snapped up. “What?”  

Edward exhaled. “Are you deaf, Abigail?”  

Her jaw clenched. “I... I need time.”  

Edward smirked. “Didn’t we just have this conversation? You don’t get time. You don’t get anything.” He tilted his head. “Except me.”  

Her lips parted, her breath uneven. “Tomorrow is too soon.”  

“Too soon for what?” He arched a brow. “To accept reality?”  

Her hands curled into fists. “My father is...”  

“Dying,” Edward finished for her. “Yes. And do you think you can save him from his hospital bed?”  

Abigail’s face paled.  

Edward exhaled sharply, setting his glass down with a quiet clink. “You’re done running, sweetheart.” He stood, rounding the desk slowly. She tensed with each step he took, like a trapped animal.  

Good.  

“You think I care how you feel about this?” he asked, voice low. “I don’t.”  

She flinched.  

He smirked. “You should be grateful. Your family could’ve been left with nothing.” He leaned against the desk, towering over her. “Instead, they have me.”  

Abigail lifted her chin. “You’re a monster.”  

Edward chuckled. “And you belong to me.”  

Her eyes flashed with something...hatred, defiance. “I will never belong to you.”  

Edward let out a slow breath. “We’ll see.”  

She shook her head. “I... I need to talk to my father first.”  

Edward exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. “And what will that change?”  

Abigail’s throat bobbed. “I don’t know.”  

“Then why waste my time?”  

Her fingers curled around the fabric of her dress. “I just...”  

Edward sighed. “You’re exhausting, Abigail.”  

Her breath hitched.  

He stepped closer. “You have twenty-four hours.”  

She stiffened. “What?”  

Edward smirked. “You heard me.”  

She shook her head, frantic. “Edward ...”  

“Twenty-four hours,” he repeated, voice dropping. “And then, you walk into my house.”  

“I...”  

He stepped even closer, his breath ghosting over her ear. “Or I drag you in myself.”  

She gasped, jerking back, but there was nowhere to go.  

Edward ’s smirk deepened. “Your choice, sweetheart.”  

Her breathing was unsteady, her pulse visible at the base of her throat.  

Edward pulled back, straightening. “Now, get out.”  

She blinked. “What?”  

“I’m done looking at you.” He waved a hand toward the door. “Go.”  

Abigail hesitated, her fingers shaking at her sides. “Edward ...”  

His gaze turned sharp. “Now.”  

She flinched before scrambling to her feet, nearly knocking over the chair in her haste.  

Edward watched as she hurried to the door, her movements stiff, clumsy.  

Pathetic.  

Just as she reached the threshold, he spoke again. “Abigail.”  

She froze, her back to him.  

He smirked. “Twenty-four hours.”  

She didn’t respond. Didn’t look back.  

Then she was gone.  

Edward exhaled, rolling his shoulders.  

Finally.  

He picked up the contract again, tracing his thumb over her signature.  

A slow smile curled at the corner of his lips.  

She could fight all she wanted.  

She was his now.  

And soon, she’d realize just how dangerous that was.  

Edward lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of the city filtering through the windows.  

He had won.  

Abigail Elijahhad signed her soul away, and tomorrow, she would step into his world...not as a wife, not as an equal, but as something far beneath him.  

The thought made him smirk.  

He reached for his phone, checking the time. Three hours until dawn.  

It didn’t matter. He’d always been a light sleeper.  

His body ran on control. Power. Routine.  

And now, her.  

With that final thought, he shut his eyes.  

Tomorrow would be interesting.  

Morning came, and Edward was in his office before the sun had fully risen.  

His presence alone silenced the room. His employees knew better than to waste his time.  

"Sir, the Vasquez deal..."  

Edward lifted a hand, and the man stopped talking instantly. "If you’re about to tell me there’s a problem, find a solution before you open your mouth again."  

The man swallowed, nodding stiffly.  

Edward turned to his assistant. "My schedule?"  

"Fully booked until six, sir."  

"Cancel the three o’clock," he muttered. "I don’t have patience for incompetence today."  

The assistant nodded quickly, jotting it down.  

Edward exhaled sharply. "Next."  

A woman stepped forward, placing a file in front of him. "The reports from..."  

He barely glanced at it. "It’s wrong."  

The woman hesitated. "Sir?"  

Edward tapped the paper. "These numbers." His voice was cold, clipped. "Redo them. If I see another mistake, you’re gone."  

The woman paled. "Y-yes, sir."  

Edward leaned back, watching as she scrambled away.  

Pathetic.  

He thrived on fear. On order. On control.  

It was why he was untouchable.  

And why Abigail Elijahhad no idea what she had just walked into.  

Night fell by the time Edward arrived home.

His penthouse was silent, the staff moving discreetly in the background. But something was different.

Then he saw it.

Suitcases.

Lined up near the grand staircase.

He smirked. Right on time.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, and then...there she was.

Abigail Salvador.

Dressed in something simple, her auburn hair damp from the night air, her green eyes burning with something between rage and resignation.

Edward took his time observing her. “Took you long enough.”

She lifted her chin. “You said twenty-four hours.”

He hummed. “And yet, I expected you sooner.”

Her fists clenched. “I’m here. Can I take my things upstairs now?”

Edward ’s smirk widened. “No.”

Abigail blinked. “What?”

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate. “You won’t need them.”

Her shoulders tensed. “Edward , I...”

He turned to one of the maids. “Take them away.”

The staff rushed to obey, lifting her suitcases.

Abigail’s eyes widened. “No! Wait...”

Edward exhaled, feigning boredom. “You won’t be needing expensive dresses or silk nightgowns here.”

Her breath came out uneven. “Then what do I need?”

Edward lifted a neatly folded package from a nearby chair.

And tossed it at her.

Abigail caught it, unfolding it slowly.

A uniform.

A maid’s uniform.

Her fingers curled around the fabric, her knuckles turning white. “You’re joking.”

Edward smirked. “Welcome home, Abigail. Now, get to work.”

She lifted her gaze, her eyes flashing. “I am not your maid.”

Edward stepped closer, his voice low. “You are whatever I say you are.”

Abigail’s breathing was shallow, furious.

Edward leaned in slightly, his smirk unwavering.

“Put it on.”

Her jaw clenched. “And if I don’t?”

Edward ’s gaze darkened.

“Then you sleep outside.”