Chapter 5: Signing The Contract

The grandfather clock in Eve’s study ticked like a countdown to execution.

Papa slumped in a leather chair, his split lip dripping crimson onto his ruined shirt. I lunged toward him, but a guard wrenched me back, his fingers biting into the bruises already darkening my arms. Adam stood motionless by the fireplace, his face an unreadable mask—the perfect heir, waiting for his mother’s command.

Eve glided behind her desk, the surface so polished I could see my own hollow reflection staring back. She slid a single sheet of paper toward me with the grace of a dealer laying down a winning hand.

"Sign," she purred.

The document smelled of expensive ink and something bitter beneath—like almonds. "Marriage Contract" glared up at me in embossed letters. My vision swam as I forced myself to read:

- Lucia Maria Pete shall wed Adam Michael Lancaster within thirty (30) days.

- All debts owed by Richard Pete shall be considered null upon consummation.

- Any offspring shall carry the Lancaster name exclusively.

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. "You can't force this."

Eve's laugh was the sound of ice cracking underfoot. "Can't I?" She tapped a manicured nail against the last clause. "Richard here signed the collateral agreement years ago. Really, darling, you should be grateful. Some girls would kill to marry into this family."

Papa groaned through bloodied teeth. "Lucia, don't—"

The guard's fist silenced him with a sickening crunch.

Adam didn't move. Didn't blink. Just watched with those cold blue eyes as his mother's game unfolded.

I turned on him, my voice raw. "You knew about this."

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Eve sighed, twirling a pearl-handled letter opener between her fingers. "Adam has always been so... obedient." Her gaze slid to her son with possessive pride. "Haven't you, darling?"

Something dangerous flickered in Adam's eyes—there and gone so fast I might have imagined it. He stepped forward, his polished Oxfords crushing the fallen contract underfoot. "Enough theatrics, Mother."

For a heartbeat, the room held its breath.

Then Eve smiled—slow and venomous. She reached into her desk drawer and produced a syringe filled with amber liquid. "Perhaps Richard needs incentive."

Papa's breath hitched. I knew that look—the same one he'd worn when Mama's doctors increased her morphine.

Adam's hand shot out, gripping his mother's wrist. The syringe trembled between them.

"Adam." Eve's voice dripped warning.

He leaned in, so close their noses almost touched. "Let me handle her."

The tension stretched like a wire about to snap. Then Eve laughed, patting Adam's cheek with mocking affection. "My loyal boy." She dropped the syringe into his waiting palm. "Don't disappoint me."

Adam's fingers closed around it, his knuckles bleaching white. When he turned to me, his expression was carved from ice. "Sign the papers, Lucia."

The air left my lungs.

He stepped closer, his cologne—something dark and expensive—washing over me. "Or should I demonstrate what happens to stubborn little Lena?" His thumb brushed my collarbone, the touch deceptively gentle.

I recoiled. "You bastard."

Adam's lips curled, but his eyes—God, his eyes burned with something that didn't match the cruelty of his smile. "You have no idea." He grabbed my wrist, yanking me toward the desk. The pen bit into my palm as he forced it into my grip. "Sign."

Our faces were inches apart. I could see the pulse hammering in his throat, the faint scar above his eyebrow twitching. His breath was warm against my lips as he whispered, so low only I could hear:

"Or do you really want to find out how deep my mother's claws go?"

The double meaning hung between us, taut and electric.

Eve clapped her hands. "Adam, really. Must you manhandle your fiancée?"

He released me with a shove that sent me stumbling against the desk. My hip hit the wood, pain radiating up my side. Adam's gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering just a heartbeat too long before he turned away.

I stared at the contract through blurred vision. The pen shook in my hand.

Papa groaned. "Don't do it, mija—"

Adam moved like lightning, driving the syringe into Papa's thigh.

"No!" I screamed as Papa's body convulsed.

Adam leaned over him, his voice dripping false concern. "Such a pity. All that suffering for nothing." His fingers lingered on Papa's pulse point. When he looked up at me, his eyes glittered with challenge. "Unless?"

The unspoken dare hung in the air—a twisted game where I didn't know the rules.

I grabbed the pen.

Adam's smirk didn't reach his eyes as I scrawled my name across the dotted line. The moment the ink touched paper, Eve snatched it away with a triumphant hum.

"Perfect." She kissed Adam's cheek, leaving a crimson lipstick stain. "I'll have the announcements printed tomorrow."

Adam wiped the mark away with his thumb, his gaze locked on me. "I'll take Lucia to her room."

Eve waved a dismissive hand. "Do try not to damage the merchandise before the wedding."

---

Adam didn't speak as he marched me down the hall, his grip like iron around my wrist. Servants scurried out of sight as we passed, their eyes averted.

He shoved me into what could only be my new prison—a bedroom straight out of a gothic novel, all silk and shadows. The door clicked shut behind us.

I whirled on him. "What the hell was that?"

Adam prowled closer, backing me against the four-poster bed. "A performance." His hands caged me in, bracing against the mattress on either side of my hips. "One you nearly ruined."

I shoved at his chest. "You hurt him!"

"He'll live." Adam's breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in. "But if you ever defy my mother like that again, I won't be able to protect you."

I froze. "Protect me?"

His lips brushed my temple—a mockery of a kiss. "Play along, little Lena. Or the next syringe goes in your neck."

When he pulled back, his expression was so cold I wondered if I'd imagined the warning. Then he reached into his pocket and dropped something on the nightstand—a silver key.

"For the balcony," he said, loud enough for any eavesdroppers. Then softer: "It's twenty feet down to the rose bushes. Try not to break your legs."

Our eyes locked. The air between us crackled with something too dangerous to name.

Adam stepped back, adjusting his cuffs with practiced ease. "Sweet dreams, fiancée."

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stared at the key, my heart hammering.

Was this another test? Another game?

And why did part of me hope he'd come back?