Chapter 3: The Devil's Contract

The Sterling Tower didn't look like an office building.

It looked like a blade stabbed into the heart of the city. Black glass, sixty floors, cold enough to cut you if you got too close. In my past life, I had only ever seen it from the car window. People like me — naive socialites who cared about charity galas — didn't get invited into the lair of Julian Sterling.

Now I was walking into it in the same red dress from last night, having not slept a single second.

"Miss Lin. Mr. Sterling is expecting you."

The man waiting in the lobby was tall, severe, in a grey suit. His name tag said Mark. Julian's shadow, his right hand, his attack dog. In the rumors, if Mark came to see you, you had already lost.

He didn't smile. He just gestured to the private elevator. No one else was allowed on it.

The elevator shot up without a sound. My heart was hammering so loud I was sure Mark could hear it. I kept my back straight. Don't show fear. Monsters can smell fear.

The doors opened directly into a private lounge on the top floor. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the entire city. Minimalist, black and white, expensive to the point of being hostile. And in the middle of it, with his back to me, was a man in a wheelchair.

Even sitting, he dominated the room.

Broad shoulders under a black shirt. One hand resting on the armrest, long fingers, a single silver ring. His hair was jet black, slightly too long. I couldn't see his face.

"You're early," he said. His voice was the same as on the phone last night. Deep, low, a little hoarse, like he didn't use it often. "I thought heiresses who just blew up their own engagement party would sleep in."

"I don't have time to sleep, Mr. Sterling."

He turned his wheelchair around slowly.

And I forgot how to breathe.

The rumors called Julian Sterling a crippled monster. They talked about his accident, his ruined legs, his cold-blooded ruthlessness in business. They never mentioned his face.

He was devastatingly handsome. Not pretty like Arthur. Handsome like a weapon. Sharp jaw, straight nose, eyes so dark they looked black. And they were looking right through me, stripping me bare.

He was maybe thirty, but his eyes looked older. Like he had seen the world burn and found it boring.

"Vivian Lin," he said, tasting my name. "Twenty-two. Only daughter of the late Henry Lin. Famous for being useless at business, excellent at spending money, and hopelessly in love with Arthur Vance. Until last night."

Every word was a needle. I flinched, but I didn't look away.

"Rumors are often wrong, Mr. Sterling. You should know that better than anyone."

That made one corner of his mouth lift. It wasn't a smile.

"Mark."

Mark stepped forward and placed a thick leather folder on the low table between us. He opened it. A marriage contract.

I had expected it. I had proposed it.

"Contract marriage. One year," Julian said, his voice flat, businesslike. "You give me 30% operational rights to the Lin shipping ports for one year. No ownership transfer, but my ships pass without tariffs. My people handle logistics. In return, I give you the Sterling name. My lawyers, my protection, my money. No one in this city will dare touch my wife. Not your stepmother, not your ex-fiancé, not the board of your company."

He leaned forward slightly, and his black eyes pinned me.

"But understand this, Vivian. Once you sign this, you are my wife. In name, in law, in public. I don't care if it's a contract. My wife does not get insulted. My wife does not get humiliated. My wife does not get touched. If you make me look like a fool, if you run back to Arthur Vance after signing my name, I will ruin you faster than he ever could. Am I clear?"

The air in the room dropped ten degrees. This was the monster everyone whispered about.

In my past life, I would have started crying. I would have run.

In this life, I had already burned to death once. A cold stare couldn't scare me anymore.

I walked forward and sat down on the sofa opposite him. I didn't touch the contract yet.

"I have conditions," I said.

Mark looked like I had just slapped his boss.

Julian just raised an eyebrow. "You are in no position to have conditions."

"I'm the one offering you the only deep-water ports in the south that you haven't been able to acquire for five years," I shot back. My voice didn't shake. "My grandfather told me your people have tried to buy them three times. My father refused. I am saying yes. That puts me very much in a position to have conditions."

Silence.

Then Julian laughed. A real, low, surprised laugh.

"Continue, Mrs. Sterling-to-be."

I flipped the contract open and read quickly. My father had taught me how to read contracts before I decided love was more important than business.

"First, the marriage is strictly in name for one year. No... no forced marital duties." My cheeks heated, but I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Second, after one year, we divorce quietly. You keep the port profits from that year, I keep my shares. Third, you will not interfere with how I take revenge on the Vance family and my step-family. You protect me, but you don't control me."

I expected him to be angry.

Instead, his gaze was... intrigued. He was studying me like I was a puzzle that had suddenly changed shape.

"You canceled a ten-year relationship in public, exposed a man's debts with printed bank statements, and walked into my tower alone to propose marriage to a man rumored to have killed his own brother," he said slowly. "The Vivian Lin in the rumors would be hiding in her room crying because her pink dress got dirty."

"The Vivian Lin in the rumors died last night," I said softly. "In a fire."

Something flickered in his dark eyes. He didn't ask what I meant.

He took a pen from Mark, crossed out a line in the contract, and wrote something in sharp, aggressive handwriting.

"Condition one and two, accepted. Condition three..." He looked up. "I accept with an amendment. I will not control your revenge. But if you need to draw blood, you use my knife. You don't go alone. If you get hurt because you were trying to be independent, I will be very displeased."

It was possessive. It was domineering. It was exactly what I needed.

"Deal?"

My hand hovered over the paper. One signature and there was no going back. I would be tied to the most dangerous man in the city.

And Arthur would never be able to touch me again.

I signed. Vivian Lin. My handwriting was sharp, nothing like the soft loops I used to use.

Julian signed next to me. Julian Sterling. His signature looked like a slash.

"Mark, file it," he said, his eyes never leaving me. "And get two rings. Simple. And call City Hall. We register our marriage tomorrow morning, 9 AM. Before the market opens."

Tomorrow? So fast?

"You want to marry tomorrow?" I blurted out.

"You proposed last night, Miss Lin. I don't like to wait for what is mine," he said, and his voice dropped lower. "Even if it's only a contract. From tomorrow, you are Mrs. Sterling. Try to get used to it."

My face was on fire. This man—

Mark coughed. "Sir, there is one more thing. Mr. Arthur Vance is downstairs in the lobby. He has been screaming since 8 AM that he needs to see Miss Lin. He says... he says she is his fiancée and you have no right to hold her hostage."

The temperature in the room plunged again.

Julian's expression didn't change, but his knuckles turned white on his armrests.

"My wife," he said quietly, "has an ex-fiancé who doesn't understand the word 'canceled'?"

He looked at me, and a slow, dangerous smile spread across his perfect, cruel mouth.

"Shall we go down and explain it to him together, Mrs. Sterling?"

---

Downstairs, Arthur was indeed screaming. His tuxedo from last night was wrinkled. His hair was a mess.

When he saw me coming out of the elevator — behind Julian's wheelchair, Mark pushing it — his eyes went bloodshot.

"VIVIAN! You slut! I knew it! I knew you were already whoring around with this cripple! You canceled our engagement for him?!"

He lunged for me.

He didn't make it two steps.

Julian didn't even move. Mark stepped forward and Arthur was on the floor, a hand twisted behind his back, howling in pain.

I looked down at the man who had locked me in a burning room.

"Let him go, Mark."

Mark looked at Julian, who gave a tiny nod.

Arthur scrambled up, clutching his arm, staring at Julian with pure hatred and fear.

"You think this cripple can protect you?" Arthur spat at me, his handsome face ugly. "You are MINE, Vivian! Your family promised you to me! I will never allow you to marry him! Never! I will tell everyone you drugged me, you cheated on me, you—"

Julian finally spoke. His voice was soft. Almost gentle.

"Say one more word about my wife, and I will cut out your tongue and have Mark mail it to your mother."

Arthur went dead silent. Every drop of blood left his face. Because everyone in this city knew Julian Sterling never made empty threats.

Julian took my hand. His hand was huge, warm, rough with calluses. Nothing like Arthur's soft, manicured hands.

"Let's go, Mrs. Sterling," he said, not looking at Arthur again. "We have a wedding to prepare for."

And he wheeled us away, leaving Arthur screaming in impotent rage behind us.

For the first time since my rebirth, I felt truly safe.