Chapter 3

Echo returned to Altheya to visit his parents, pulling up to their penthouse—an estate worth billions, guarded by imposing gates and lined with luxury vehicles. Inside, pale gold floors gleamed beneath massive crystal chandeliers, and maids bowed in perfect unison.

“Welcome home, Mr. Reid,” they chorused.

He straightened his custom-tailored suit and drew a deep breath. In the grand living room, his parents waited on a sofa crafted from rare leather.

“Oh, son—you look absolutely dreadful,” Ellie Reid said, her brow furrowed with concern.

“Now that you’re here, we need to discuss your wedding arrangements with the Hearts family,” his father stated firmly.

His mother’s face lit up with a warm smile. “So? How was your time with her?”

“She’s worse than I imagined,” Echo’s voice cracked. “I won’t marry that woman.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I spent years pretending to be poor—just to test her character—but all she cared about was money. She was cruel, looked down on anyone she thought had less.”

“What? You pretended?” his mother gasped.

“Why would you do that? She’s a noble—her reaction was to be expected,” she added, defending the heiress.

“Stop calling her ‘refined’!” Echo leaned forward in his chair, jaw tight. “Being born into privilege doesn’t excuse looking down on people.”

He inhaled sharply, stood tall, and straightened his spine.

“Mom, Dad—I have business to attend to.” He turned and strode through the towering doors without a backward glance, climbing into the vintage luxury car that had been passed down through four generations of his family—a timeless piece worth five million USD.

He drove to another penthouse in Altheya, the place where he’d first met the woman who’d hired him.

Inside the master bedroom, darkness ruled—only the moon’s silver light streamed through the glass doors, illuminating the space. Standing before the mirror was a figure he’d come to know as Purple, her face hidden behind a glittering violet mask. She wore nothing but sheer purple lingerie, no undergarments beneath, the fabric clinging to every curve of her body.

Echo stepped close, his chest pressing against her back as he swept her hair over her right shoulder. His face buried in the crook of her neck, his voice deep and low.

“Are you certain about this?”

“Yes,” she said flatly. “Give me an heir, and I’ll ensure you’re taken care of for life.”

She reached for a folded document on the bedside table and laid it out before him. Echo traced his finger along the crisp edges.

“A contract… 365 days?” He looked up at her reflection. “Why this term?”

“I just finalized my divorce. My parents will push for me to remarry soon—they haven’t said it yet, but I see it in their eyes. I won’t be tied to another useless, arrogant womanizer ever again.”

“But you can’t judge all men by one,” he said gently.

“Sign it, or don’t. We’re not here to share life stories—this is business, and pleasure is part of the deal.” She turned to face him, her masked eyes holding his gaze.

“Can I keep calling you Purple? It suits you,” he said.

“Sure thing, Echo—the call boy.” A faint smirk played on her lips.

With deliberate care, he uncapped the pen and signed his name, binding himself to the year-long agreement. Then he tossed the paper aside, lifted her into his arms, and laid her on the bed.

But as his lips brushed against her skin, his hand brushed something cold and metallic hidden beneath her pillow—a gun.

“Why do you keep things like this?” His voice was low, rough, as his fingers traced the smooth metal of the gun before setting it aside with deliberate care.

“Just for protection,” she murmured, her breath warm against his neck as she leaned closer. “I promise you, not a single bullet will ever be aimed your way.” Her hand slid down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt.

“All I want… is you. Your body, your touch—surrender every part of yourself to me.”

She pressed her palm flat against his heart, feeling its wild rhythm beneath his skin.

“I am your master now,” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

“And you are my toy—mine to play with whenever I desire, however I see fit.”

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he caught her wrist, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing each fingertip slowly.

“Of course, master,” he breathed, his voice thick with need.

“I am yours completely.”

He pulled her closer, his free hand sliding up her thigh as she leaned back against the silk sheets, her eyes dark with hunger.

The moon cast shadows across her skin, turning every curve and line into something breathtaking—and forbidden. His lips trailed down her neck, across her collarbone, as she tangled her fingers in his hair and guided him lower, her voice a soft, commanding sigh…