The Contract

The first thing they took from us was our house.

I watched the movers carry our furniture out like it meant nothing—like my childhood, my memories, my father’s hard work were just items that could be boxed and discarded. I wanted to scream at them to stop. Instead, I stood there, frozen, holding a notice I still didn’t fully understand.

Foreclosure approved.

My father’s name was printed on it. The same name the media had dragged through the dirt for weeks.

I left before the last box was taken. I couldn’t watch anymore.

Outside the courthouse, reporters were already waiting.

“Miss Reyes! Is it true your father stole millions from Vale Holdings?”

“Do you admit your family fled to avoid responsibility?”

“Where is your mother now?”

Their voices blended together until all I could hear was the pounding in my head. My fingers curled into fists, nails biting into my skin, but I kept walking. If I stopped—even for a second—I knew I would fall apart right there on the pavement.

They didn’t call my father a criminal to his face.

They waited until he was dead.

Three days after the verdict, I found him collapsed on the living room floor, still wearing the same watch he wore every day to work. I remembered shaking him, calling his name over and over, already knowing it was too late.

I still didn’t know how to grieve. Everything had happened too fast.

The hospital smelled like disinfectant and fear. I sat on a cold metal chair outside the ICU, my knees pulled to my chest, listening to the steady beeping from inside.

The doctor spoke gently, but his words crushed me all the same.

“Your mother needs surgery as soon as possible. We’ll need a down payment before we can proceed.”

“How much?” I asked, even though I already knew I couldn’t afford it.

He told me the amount. I nodded like it was reasonable.

It wasn’t.

I made calls. One after another. Relatives who used to smile at us during holidays suddenly had excuses. Friends stopped answering. Doors closed before I could even explain.

By the time my phone buzzed again, my hands were shaking from exhaustion.

An unknown number.

I almost ignored it.

Then a message appeared.

If you want to save your mother, come to Vale Tower. Now.

My heart dropped.

Vale Tower wasn’t just a building. It was a symbol. Forty-eight floors of glass and power owned by the company that destroyed my father.

Owned by Adrian Vale.

I stared at the screen for a long time. This had to be some kind of sick joke. But the clock on the hospital wall reminded me I didn’t have the luxury of pride.

Thirty minutes later, I was standing in the lobby of Vale Tower, feeling completely out of place. Everything was too clean, too expensive. People walked past me with purpose, while I felt like an intruder in a world I didn’t belong to.

The elevator ride was silent.

When the doors opened, I was led into a vast office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My city. The city that had already taken so much from me.

A man stood by the window, his back to me.

“Sit,” he said without turning around.

His voice was calm. Controlled.

When he finally faced me, I understood why people were afraid of Adrian Vale.

He didn’t need to raise his voice. Power clung to him naturally—sharp eyes, unreadable expression, a presence that made it hard to breathe.

“You asked me to come,” I said, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Why?”

He placed a folder on the desk and slid it toward me.

“Because you’re running out of time.”

I opened it.

The words at the top blurred for a moment before they sank in.

Marriage Contract.

I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking,” Adrian said.

I flipped through the pages, my chest tightening with every line. One year. Public marriage. Separate private lives. Financial support. Medical expenses—fully covered.

My mother’s name was already typed there.

I looked up at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you need help,” he replied simply. “And I need a wife.”

“You could choose anyone,” I said. “Why me?”

His eyes didn’t soften. “Because you won’t fall in love with me.”

The honesty of that answer hurt more than I expected.

“And if I say no?” I asked quietly.

He met my gaze without hesitation. “Then the offer expires. So does the surgery.”

Silence stretched between us.

I hated him in that moment. Hated how calm he was. Hated that he held my mother’s life in his hands. But most of all, I hated myself for knowing what I was about to do.

My hands trembled as I picked up the pen.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” I said.

“It doesn’t have to,” Adrian replied.

I signed my name.

Victoria Reyes.

When I stood up, my legs felt weak, like I had crossed a line I could never return from.

As I walked out of his office, one thought echoed in my mind:

I had just married the man who destroyed my family.

And whatever waited for me next—

There was no turning back.