Chapter 4: The Marriage Proposal

When she opened her eyes, it took Karen a few seconds to remember where she was. The large, luxurious room was the opposite of her small apartment.

She quickly got dressed and went downstairs.

Breakfast was already set—cut fruit, warm croissants, and a steaming cup waiting for her.

Everything seemed too beautiful to be real.

“Did you sleep well?”

Sebastian’s voice came from the shadows of the hallway. He appeared shortly after, impeccable in a white shirt, his hair damp, with the same gray and impenetrable gaze as the night before.

Karen sat up slowly. “I was nervous and couldn’t sleep.”

“Next time, ask for a sleeping pill.”

He sat down across from her, pouring himself coffee as if it were an ordinary morning in an ordinary house — as if nothing had happened.

Karen played with the rim of the cup to hide her discomfort.

“I was thinking of going back to the orphanage. If I explain the situation, they’ll take me back.”

Sebastian looked up, interested. “Why would you do that? Why would you go back to that place?”

“It’s safe for me there.”

“You don’t have to go back to the orphanage to be safe.”

“I don’t see any other alternative. I don’t know anyone, and I have no family.”

He leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment that seemed too long. Then he said, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.

“Marry me.”

Karen blinked, not understanding. “What?”

Sebastian brought the cup to his lips.

 “You want security. I need a wife. It’s simple.”

The air seemed to disappear from the room. She stared at him, trying to figure out whether it was a joke.

“You... you’re not serious.”

“I am.” He set down his glass, his eyes fixed on her. “There’s nothing safer for you than being my wife.”

The sound of the clock on the wall was the only noise between them.

 Karen felt her heart race—but she didn’t know if it was fear, disbelief, or something even more dangerous.

“This doesn’t make sense. A man like you, handsome and rich, must have dozens of women. I’m not going to be foolish again.”

Karen jumped up, her legs still wobbly, and headed for the door. She was sure that Sebastian and Peter were accomplices—two sides of the same plan—and that he also wanted to deceive her.

“Karen, I know it sounds crazy, but it’s not. The Sterling family would accept me if I married you, if I were a respectable man.” His voice remained calm, but there was something behind it—a subtle pressure, like the air before a storm.

She ran her hand over her arm, trying to stop it from shaking.

“We don’t even know each other. How can I trust you?”

He didn’t get up right away. He watched her, his gray eyes assessing her every movement, as if deciphering an equation. Finally, he got up slowly and went to the window.

“It wouldn’t be a proper marriage; we wouldn’t sleep in the same bed,” he said, each word measured. “It would be a fake marriage. Until things calm down, until Lindsay’s situation is resolved, or she dies.”

She turned her face away, unable to accept the cold practicality with which he treated other people’s lives.

“I don’t want her to die.” The words came out small, impossible to hide.

Sebastian closed his eyes for a moment, as if weighing a decision. When he opened them, there was no tenderness—only cold honesty.

“I don’t want her to die either, but life isn’t fair. If I marry you, I’ll give you legal protection, shelter, access to resources. Peter won’t dare touch you.”

She laughed, but it was a broken sound.

“You offer imprisonment with a golden chain as if it were salvation.”

“Call it what you want. I call it survival.”

“And then?” She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

He smiled like an angel.

“Then you’ll have yours back.”

She looked at her fist—the tattoo on her wrist burning with memory—and thought of the orphanage, of Mrs. Malcolm, of the promise of independence she had worked so hard to build. It was a proposal that took all of that away in an instant.

“What if I refuse?”

Sebastian tilted his head, evaluating her.

“You go back to the orphanage and hope Peter doesn’t find you. And in a few days, you’ll wake up in a bathtub full of ice, or you won’t wake up at all.”

Karen felt her throat go dry. She didn’t know if what came next would be less dangerous than what had already happened. But she knew, with chilling clarity, that running away again meant going back to square one—and perhaps to something worse.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked.

Sebastian rolled up his sleeve and showed her the orphanage tattoo.

“That’s why! I know how cruel the Starling family is. Karen, we’re the same; we’re both survivors.”

Karen touched her own tattoo.

“I don’t know.”

“If you accept, we’ll go to a notary. We’ll sign a prenuptial agreement—everything legal, everything transparent. And in the meantime, I’ll keep you here. No one will touch you.”

Karen closed her eyes for a second, imagining the orphanage, the small room, the empty bench. When she opened her eyes again, there was something cold and resolute on her face.

“Do you promise?” she asked.

Sebastian smiled, a smile without affection.

“I promise.”

She took a deep breath. The choice was a fine line over an abyss. And as much as the idea of marrying for convenience disgusted her, the word “security” sounded, for the first time since the night before, like a promise—and a deadly tempting one at that.

“Karen, will you marry me?”

The question hung in the air like a sentence.

Her heart was beating too loudly, drowning out any rational thought. All she could see was the promise of security, of peace, of someone who would never leave her alone again.

“I... I accept.”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his gaze victorious—as if concluding a deal, not a destiny.

Karen believed she was being saved by an angel.

But, unbeknownst to her, she had just joined hands with another demon.