Chapter 9: The devil's ledger

The drive from the hospital to the De Luca estate was a blur of rain and silence. I sat in the back of the sleek black sedan, my hands folded tightly in my lap to stop them from shaking. Beside me, Julian was a shadow, his face illuminated only by the passing streetlights. He wasn't looking at me; he was scrolling through his tablet, likely calculating the cost of my soul.

The car pulled through a set of massive iron gates that looked like the teeth of a beast. The manor was a sprawling, gothic monstrosity of stone and ivy, standing tall against the stormy sky. It didn't look like a home. It looked like a fortress.

"Get out," Julian said, his voice cold as he stepped out of the car.

I followed him into the grand foyer. The floors were marble, the ceilings were vaulted, and the air smelled of beeswax and old money. A housekeeper in a stiff uniform appeared, taking Julian’s coat without a word.

"Show her to the West Wing," Julian commanded, heading toward a set of double oak doors. "And tell the kitchen she will be taking her meals in my study from now on."

"Julian, wait!" I called out, my voice echoing in the vast space.

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"My son... you said he’d be moved here. When?"

"He’s already in the medical wing," Julian said, finally turning. His eyes were like flint. "He has a dedicated nurse and a sterile environment. You will be allowed to see him for one hour every morning. Provided you fulfill your duties."

"My duties?" I walked toward him, the clicking of my heels on the marble sounding like a countdown. "You haven't told me what I’m actually doing here, Julian. I’m not a nurse. I’m not a maid."

Julian took a slow, predatory step toward me. He reached out, his hand wrapping around the back of my neck, his thumb resting just under my ear. The heat of his palm made my skin crawl and tingle at the same time.

"You are a 'De Luca Asset,' Elara," he whispered, leaning down so his breath fanned across my cheek. "My father is hosting a gala in three days. He wants to marry me off to a woman whose family can help him expand the syndicate. I want them to stop looking. You will be my 'infatuation.' You will wear the jewels I give you, you will smile when I touch you, and you will convince this city that I am a man capable of love."

"You want me to be your fake fiancée?" I breathed, shock rippling through me.

"I want you to be my shield," Julian corrected. "In exchange, Leo stays in that medical wing. He gets the surgeries, the therapy, and the life you could never give him on a waitress's salary."

"And when the gala is over? When they believe you?"

Julian’s grip tightened, just a fraction. A dark, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. "Then we see if I’m finished with you. Now, go. You’re covered in the filth of the warehouse, and I prefer my investments to be clean."

He let go of me as if I were nothing more than a used tool. I stood there, humiliated and heartbroken, as he disappeared into his study.

The housekeeper, a stern woman named Martha, gestured toward the stairs. "This way, Miss. I’ve laid out a dress for dinner. Master Julian doesn't like to be kept waiting."

As I climbed the stairs, I looked back at the front door. It was locked. The windows were barred. I had saved my son from a medical death, only to walk into a golden cage. I wasn't Elara the mother anymore. I was Elara the Debt.

And as I looked at the dark wood of the West Wing door, I realized the hardest part wasn't going to be the fake smiles or the gala. It was going to be the fact that every time Julian touched me to "prove" his love to the world, I was starting to forget that he was the monster who had put me here and that terrifies me .