SOLD 2

I stared at him, my heartbeat pounding so loudly it drowned out everything else.

Ownership.

The word echoed in my mind, sharp and poisonous.

“I’m not property,” I said, forcing each word out carefully, as if speaking too quickly might shatter what little control I still had.

Dominic Voss regarded me with mild interest, as if I had just made an observation worth considering but not agreeing with.

“In theory,” he said. “No one is.”

He reached into his jacket and removed his phone, checking the screen briefly before slipping it back into his pocket. The movement was casual, unhurried an infuriating contrast to the panic burning through my veins.

“In practice,” he continued, “people are owned every day. By debt. By fear. By obligation.”

I clenched my fists. “You can’t just walk in here and decide my life is yours.”

“I didn’t decide,” he replied calmly. “I collected.”

Marcus shifted behind me. I could feel him there, like a presence I didn’t want to acknowledge. Rage bubbled up inside my chest, hot and uncontrollable.

“You did this,” I said without turning. “You let this happen.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Marcus said hoarsely.

I laughed again, but this time the sound broke halfway through, splintering into something ugly. “You always have a choice.”

Dominic stepped around me, moving toward the sofa where my aunt sat frozen. She flinched when his shadow fell over her.

“You understand the terms, Lydia,” he said. “You signed them willingly.”

“I was desperate,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it would come to this.”

“Desperation,” Dominic replied, “is how most contracts are signed.”

He turned back to me.

“You see,” he said, “I don’t enjoy coercion. It’s inefficient. I prefer clarity.”

He gestured toward the folder on the table. “Everything is there. The debt. The default. The transfer.”

“Transfer to what?” I demanded.

“To marriage.”

The word hit me harder than I expected.

“What?” I breathed.

Dominic’s eyes remained fixed on mine. “A legal union. Binding. Enforceable.”

I shook my head violently. “That’s insane.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But insanity does not negate legality.”

I backed away until my calves hit the edge of the coffee table. “I won’t do it.”

Silence fell again.

Then Dominic spoke, his voice softer now, almost thoughtful. “You misunderstand.”

He nodded once, and one of the men behind him stepped forward, placing a thin folder into Dominic’s hand.

“This is not a proposal,” Dominic said, opening it. “It’s an outcome.”

He set the new papers down in front of me.

A contract.

Not just any contract. A marriage agreement—pages upon pages of clauses and conditions written in dense legal language. I scanned the first page, my vision blurring as words leapt out at me.

Duration: Indefinite.

Residence: Primary estate of Dominic Voss.

Conduct: Subject to oversight.

Termination: At sole discretion of Mr. Voss.

My stomach churned.

“There’s no end date,” I said weakly.

Dominic tilted his head. “I don’t enter temporary arrangements.”

“This isn’t real,” I said. “This can’t be enforced.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Do you know how many judges owe me favors?”

A cold shiver ran through me.

“What happens if I refuse?” I asked.

He didn’t answer immediately.

Instead, he straightened and glanced at Marcus.

“Your fiancé,” he said, “will be charged with fraud. Prison time will be… substantial.”

My breath hitched.

He turned his gaze to my aunt. “You,” he continued, “will lose everything you own. Properties. Accounts. Assets. And then you’ll serve time for falsifying documents.”

My hands trembled.

“And you,” Dominic said, returning his focus to me, “will watch.”

I shook my head. “You’re bluffing.”

He smiled then.

It was slow and cold and utterly devoid of humor.

“I never bluff.”

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing closer, the air growing thin. I felt trapped—not just physically, but in every sense of the word.

“This is blackmail,” I whispered.

“This is business.”

I looked down at the contract again.

Marriage.

To a man I had just met. A man whose name was feared. A man who spoke of ownership as if it were a natural law.

“You’ll live with me,” Dominic said. “Publicly, you will be my wife. Privately, you will follow my rules.”

“What rules?” I asked.

He paused, considering.

“You will not leave my property without permission. You will not speak to the media. You will not attempt contact with anyone I haven’t approved.”

“And if I break them?”

His eyes darkened.

“You won’t.”

I laughed softly, hysteria creeping into the sound. “You’re confident.”

“I am prepared.”

My gaze flicked to Marcus again. He looked smaller now. Weaker. A stranger.

“You said you loved me,” I whispered.

His eyes filled with tears. “I do. I just… I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Something inside me snapped.

I thought of the life I had planned. The small apartment Marcus and I had talked about. The future that now felt like a cruel joke.

I picked up the pen.

My hand shook as I turned to the last page.

“You win,” I said quietly.

“I already have,” Dominic replied.

I signed.

The moment the pen left the paper, something shifted. The room felt colder. Heavier.

Dominic took the contract from me and slipped it back into the folder.

“Pack your things,” he said. “You’re leaving tonight.”

My head snapped up. “Tonight?”

“There’s no reason to delay.”

I swallowed. “I need time.”

“You’ve had enough time.”

He turned toward the door, then paused.

“One more thing.”

He faced me again, his gaze sharp.

“You are not a victim,” he said. “You are a choice. Remember that.”

The door unlocked.

The men stepped aside.

And just like that, my old life ended.