CHAPTER 5.

Grace’s POV.

The rhythmic beep of the heart monitor was the only thing tethering me to reality.

I hadn’t left my adoptive mother’s side for hours. She looked so small in the hospital bed, her skin the color of parchment, her chest rising in shallow, uneven intervals. I held her hand, terrified that if I let go, she would simply drift away.

Stay with me, I prayed silently. Just stay.

The vibration of my phone against the bedside table shattered the silence.

I glanced at the screen. Unknown Number. But I knew who it was. It was the twentieth time it had lit up in the last hour.

I wanted to smash the phone against the wall. I wanted to scream. But the invisible noose around my neck tightened with every missed call. My biological father held the other end of the rope, and my mother’s life was the knot.

With trembling fingers, I slid to answer.

“Hello.”

“You are testing my patience, Grace.” My father’s voice was low, sharp, and stripped of any pretense of affection. “Sebastian is waiting. Do you want him to rescind the deal? One phone call from me, and Sarah is transferred from that hospital bed to a prison cell tonight.”

The threat hit me like a physical blow. I looked at my mother’s unconscious face. “Please… don’t. I’m coming. Just give me the address.”

“The driver is outside. There are clothes in the backseat. And Grace?” His voice dropped an octave. “You are Isabella now. You will be perfect. You will not give him a single reason to doubt you. Do not fail me.”

The line went dead.

A second later, the address pinged on my screen. I stood up, my legs feeling like lead. I leaned down, brushing my lips against my mother’s cold forehead.

“Forgive me, Mom,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I have to do this for you.”

I walked out of the sterile safety of the room and into the waiting trap.

*

The car was a black wraith, idling at the curb. The interior smelled of expensive leather and absolute silence. I changed into the dress left for me—a sleek, modest white shift—while the partition shielded me from the driver.

When we arrived at the estate, the gates opened to reveal an expensive fortress. A butler, stone-faced and silent, led me straight to the study.

The room smelled of cedarwood, aged whiskey, and power.

Sebastian Knight stood by the window, his back to me. He was on the phone, but the moment I stepped across the threshold, he hung up without a goodbye.

He turned. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

“You’re late, Isabella,” he said. His voice was a rich baritone, smooth but edged with a razor. “Punctuality is the first requirement of this arrangement.”

My pulse hammered against my throat. “I… I’m sorry.”

“Save your apologies. Results are the only currency I accept.” He walked to the massive mahogany desk and tapped a stack of documents. “Sit.”

I obeyed. The leather chair was too big, making me feel like a child called to the principal’s office.

“This is a contract marriage,” he stated, his eyes locking onto mine. They were dark, intelligent, and completely void of warmth. “It lasts as long as I require it to. There will be no romance. No expectations. And absolutely no children.”

I nodded slowly, my hands gripping my lap.

He leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk, caging me in with his gaze. “Read clause four carefully. If any ‘accident’ occurs that leads to a pregnancy, you will terminate it immediately. I will not have an heir with a woman I don’t love. Is that understood?”

The cruelty of his words took my breath away. He spoke of life and death as if he were ordering dinner.

“I understand,” I managed to whisper.

“Good. Sign.”

He held out a fountain pen. My hand shook as I took it. I looked at the line waiting for a signature.

Isabella Knight.

I wasn’t just signing a contract; I was signing away my name. I pressed the nib to the paper and wrote the lie.

Sebastian nodded, satisfied. He checked his watch. “The car is still running. We’re leaving for the registry. I won’t waste time on a wedding, but the paperwork must be legal by tonight.”

He turned and walked to the door, expecting me to follow. He didn’t look back. He didn’t have to. He knew he owned me.

*

The registry office was grey and soulless.

Thirty minutes later, it was done. No vows of love. No family. Just a bored official and two witnesses I had never met.

“I do,” Sebastian said, sounding bored.

“I do,” I echoed, my voice hollow.

As we walked back to the car, the heavy diamond ring on my finger felt like a shackle. I was a married woman. My mother was dying in a hospital, and I was walking beside a stranger who looked at me like an acquisition.

Dusk had fallen by the time the car stopped again. This wasn’t Sebastian’s estate. It was larger, older—an ancestral mansion that loomed against the darkening sky.

“My family is inside,” Sebastian said, breaking the silence for the first time in an hour.

I reached for the door handle, but his hand shot out, gripping my wrist. His skin was warm, but his grip was iron.

I gasped, turning to look at him.

“Listen to me,” he said, his eyes searching my face. “My family feeds on weakness. They have high expectations for my wife. You will be poised. You will speak only when spoken to. Do not embarrass me.”

“I won’t,” I said, trying to pull my wrist back.

He held me a second longer, establishing his control, then released me. “Good.”

We walked up the marble steps together, a perfect, fake couple. The butler opened the heavy oak doors.

“Mr. Knight,” the butler intoned. “Your father, stepbrother, and sister-in-law are seated in the dining room.”

Stepbrother. Sister-in-law. The words meant nothing to me then.

We walked down a long hallway lined with judging portraits. My heels clicked loudly on the floor, sounding like a countdown. Sebastian placed a hand on the small of my back—not in affection, but to steer me.

He pushed open the double doors to the dining room.

A crystal chandelier cast a golden glow over a table set with fine dining. An older man sat at the head, looking stern.

But my eyes drifted to the couple sitting on the right.

The man turned to look at us, a polite smile on his face. The smile vanished the second he saw me. The color drained from his face.

My heart stopped beating. The room spun.

It wasn’t a stranger.

It was Ryan. The man who had broken my heart.

And sitting beside him, clutching his hand, her eyes wide with shock, was the woman he had left me for.

Chloe.