2. Sign Here

Lena's POV

I sat at the table, staring at the envelope. My hands didn’t shake. Not yet. Ethan leaned back against the counter, his eyes boring into mine, calm, calculating, like he already knew I would give in. Ryan stood behind him arms crossed that infuriating smirk on his face.

“Twenty minutes,” Ethan said. His voice was quiet but sharp. “Sign it Or we’re done here.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Twenty minutes? That’s generous of you.”

“You’re testing me,” he said. His tone carried the edge of someone who believed they were in control.

I didn’t answer. I just picked up my phone. Maya’s texts were already there. Stay calm. Don’t let him scare you. You are stronger than this. I read them quickly, my fingers tightening around the phone.

“You really think I’m going to beg?” I asked, looking at him. My voice was steady, even though my chest throbbed. “You really think I’ll whimper over some papers?”

Ethan didn’t flinch. “I don’t think, Lena. I know.”

Ryan let out a quiet laugh. “Just sign it,” he said. “It’ll make life easier.”

“You think life will ever be easy again?” I shot back. My glare was sharp. “Do you think I’ll ever forget this moment, the way you handed me my destruction on our anniversary?”

Ethan’s jaw tightened. “It’s not about forgetting. It’s about moving forward.”

I picked up the envelope, my fingers brushing against the thick paper. I stared at the words, at the contract that would end everything between us. I could feel the anger building inside me, hot and sharp, but I didn’t let it control me.

“Moving forward,” I said, voice rising slightly. “Is that what you call this? Moving forward while pretending the past year didn’t exist? Pretending I don’t matter?”

Ethan took a step closer, calm, deliberate. “I don’t want to fight, Lena. Just sign the papers. Twenty minutes. That’s it.”

I met his eyes, refusing to look away. “And if I don’t?”

“Then we’re done,” he said. No hesitation. No emotion.

I could feel Ryan’s eyes on me, the smirk returning. He thought I would crumble. That I would beg. That I would throw myself at Ethan and plead.

I didn’t. I didn’t even flinch. “I’m not afraid of you,” I said. “I’m not afraid of your time limit. I’m not afraid of your threats. You’re the one who should be afraid.”

Ethan’s eyes flicked to Ryan. The smirk faltered. He hadn’t expected my defiance to be this sharp, this immediate.

I set the envelope down and straightened in my chair. “I’ll sign,” I said finally, my voice calm, “but not because you ordered me to. Not because I’m scared. I’ll sign because I decide to. And right now, I decide on my terms.”

Ryan’s jaw tightened. Ethan’s face remained unreadable, but I caught the slightest twitch of frustration in his eyes. He wanted control, wanted fear, wanted me to crumble. He didn’t get it.

I picked up the pen slowly, deliberately. My hands didn’t shake. My chest rose and fell steadily. I signed the papers with precision, every stroke deliberate, every letter an assertion of who I was.

Ethan’s eyes never left me. I could see the mix of triumph and something darker there. He felt powerful, yes, but I could also see the unease creeping under the surface. The realization that this victory was hollow, that controlling me didn’t make him feel good, that it left a sickness in his chest.

I slid the papers across the table toward him. He picked them up slowly, his fingers brushing against mine. There was tension in the air, thick and suffocating. Ryan leaned forward slightly, as if trying to assert himself, and I looked at him directly.

“You should learn when to keep your mouth shut,” I said quietly. My voice was low, calm, but lethal.

“Watching me, thinking you’ve won it won’t make this easier for you.”

Ethan placed the envelope on the counter. He looked at me, and for the first time I saw doubt. He had expected tears, pleading, panic. He hadn’t expected strength. He hadn’t expected me to meet him head-on.

“Why.” he started, then stopped. His words faltered.

“Why didn’t you fight? Why didn’t you beg?”

I smiled faintly. Not a happy smile. A sharp, controlled smile. “Because I’m not afraid to lose what you think you control. I don’t beg. I don’t plead. I survive.”

Ryan’s face darkened. The tension in the room thickened. He had expected drama. He had expected me to crumble. He had expected Ethan to feel satisfaction. And now? Satisfaction was tainted.

Power was hollow.

I could feel Ethan’s gaze on me, trying to read me, trying to figure out what I was thinking, what I was planning. He was powerful, yes. But I wasn’t powerless. I had just signed the papers on my own terms, refused to give them victory in my fear.

I leaned back slightly, letting my shoulders relax but keeping my eyes on him. “I didn’t sign because you forced me. I signed because I refuse to beg. Because I refuse to be a victim. And believe me, Ethan, you will feel the consequences of this decision in ways you cannot imagine.”

Ethan’s hand twitched over the papers. I could see it. I could feel it. The triumph he thought he had was poisoned by the knowledge that he had broken me legally but not emotionally. I hadn’t given him the full control he craved.

Ryan’s smirk was gone. The confidence he had carried in the room was replaced by irritation. He had underestimated me, underestimated my strength.

Ethan set the papers down finally, exhaling slowly. He felt powerful. He felt in control. And yet, there was that sick twist in his chest, that gnawing realization that this was not the victory he had imagined. That I had signed, yes, but I had done it my way, not his.

I picked up my phone and sent Maya a quick text: I survived. And I’m not done yet.

The room was quiet now, heavy with tension. Ethan’s eyes flicked to Ryan, then back to me. He had orchestrated this moment, controlled the circumstances, forced my hand, and still, it wasn’t enough. I had not been broken. I had not been bent. I had not been defeated.

“You feel powerful,” I said quietly, my voice sharp and steady. “Good. Enjoy it while you can. But power without respect, without control over the heart, without trust it’s meaningless. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

Ethan didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His eyes said everything. Triumph mixed with guilt, dominance mixed with sickness, control mixed with hollow regret. He had forced my signature. And yet, he had not won me. Not truly.

I leaned back in my chair, letting the adrenaline subside. I had survived this encounter. I had maintained control. I had signed, yes. But I had not surrendered. I had not begged. I had not given them the satisfaction of breaking me.

Tonight, they had power over the papers. But I had power over myself. And that made all the difference.