002: ITALY

RHEA.

The low rumble of the private jet’s engines vibrated through the floorboards…

Outside the window, there was nothing but a sea of black clouds and endless ocean. Inside, the cabin was a palace of polished wood, white leather, and suffocating luxury.

I sat curled up in the corner of a massive plush seat, my hands pulled tight into the sleeves of my oversized, water soaked sweater. On my left hand, the diamond ring felt heavy. Unnatural. It was a golden leash, reminding me with every small turn of my wrist that I no longer belonged to myself.

Across the aisle, Nikolai Martello sat in absolute silence.

He hadn't said a single word since we boarded the plane two hours ago. A laptop was open on his lap, the soft blue light from the screen accentuating the hard lines of his jaw and the sharp bridge of his nose. His dark eyes flicked across lines of code and financial figures with terrifying focus. He looked like a normal, ultra wealthy businessman working late into the night.

But I knew the truth. I had seen the lifeless darkness in his eyes back in the rain. I had felt the crushing force of his grip. He was a predator who had bought my life with a stroke of a pen.

I leaned my forehead against the cold window pane, watching the tiny drops of condensation trail down the glass.

How had my life come to this?

My mind drifted back to my mother. I barely had any memories of her, only a single faded photograph I kept hidden under my mattress back at the Donovan estate. She had soft blue eyes and a gentle smile—a smile I had spent my entire life searching for in my father's face.

I never found it.

When she died giving birth to me, my father didn't see a daughter. He saw the reason his world had shattered. When he brought Sheila into our home two years later, it felt like my mother was being erased entirely. Sheila brought Rosabella, a golden-haired girl two years younger than me, who was immediately treated like a princess.

While Rosabella got private tutors, designer clothes, and birthday parties, I got chores, hand-me-downs, and endless silence. I became the ghost living in the attic. The maid who cleared their dinner plates while they laughed like a real family.

I had endured twenty-five years of their cruelty. I had scrubbed floors, swallowed my pride, and saved every stray dollar I could find, all for the dream of one day walking out the front door and building a peaceful life of my own. A life where no one yelled at me. A life where I mattered.

And now?

Now, I was flying ten thousand feet in the air toward a foreign country, contractually bound to carry a stranger's baby and act as his puppet wife.

But the Fifty million dollars… I reminded myself, squeezing my eyes shut. One year. Carry his child, sign the papers, take the money, and leave.

It was a nightmare, but fifty million dollars meant  freedom. It meant I could buy a house on the coast, change my name, and never look back. I just had to survive Nikolai Martello.

"You're breathing too loudly," a calm, deep voice broke the silence.

My eyes snapped open. Nikolai hadn't moved. His fingers were still typing steadily on his keyboard, his eyes fixed on the screen.

"I'm breathing normally," I replied, my voice raspy from crying earlier. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to sound braver than I felt. "Sorry if my existence is distracting your work."

Nikolai paused. His fingers stopped over the keys. Slowly, deliberately, he closed the laptop lid with a soft click and turned his head toward me.

"You have two choices during this arrangement, Rhea," he said, his tone utterly flat, devoid of warmth or anger. "You can make this simple by obeying my instructions, or you can make this difficult. Either way, the result will be the same. You will carry my child."

I bit my lip, feeling the sting of anger burning in my chest. "I signed your contract. That doesn't mean I have to like you."

"I don't need you to like me, in fact I don't want you to like me," he said smoothly, leaning his head back against the leather headrest. "I have no use for your affection. I only need your compliance."

"And what if I fight back?" I challenged, sitting up straighter. "What if I refuse to play happy family in front of your mother?"

Nikolai's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't raise his voice, but the sudden drop in the room's temperature was unmistakable.

"You won't," he stated simply. "Because you want your freedom. And I am the only person who can give it to you. Now close your eyes and sleep. We land in two hours."

He opened his laptop again, shutting me out as if I were nothing more than a minor inconvenience. I clenched my fists tightly, glaring at him until my eyes burned, but I didn't say another word.

By the time the jet touched down at a private airfield, the sky was painted in shades of purple and gray. Dawn was breaking.

I was shoved gently into the back of another black SUV with heavily tinted windows. The ride through the Italian countryside was a blur of winding roads, towering cypress trees, and stone walls.

Eventually, the vehicle slowed down, passing through massive iron gates guarded by armed men in dark suits. The car rolled up a long gravel driveway lined with ancient olive trees, finally coming to a stop in front of a sprawling, grand estate.

It looked like a fortress. Stone walls, tall arched windows, and iron balconies overlooked the Tuscan hills. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but as I stepped out into the cool morning air, a heavy weight settled on my shoulders.

It was a cage. A gilded, million-dollar cage.

"Follow me," Nikolai commanded, walking past me without waiting.