Chapter 12

POV: Karol Kensington

"We are entering a one-year contract, Ms. Kensington. This means we own your time, your skills, and your total silence."

The lawyer’s voice was dry and mean. He sat across from me in a gray suit, pushing a thick stack of papers across the glass table.

We were in a huge boardroom at the very top of Ciro’s company building. Heavy rain crashed against the tall windows, blurring the city lights of Medellín far below us.

I sat very still in my black leather chair. I felt totally numb.

Just an hour ago, I had climbed into the back of Ciro’s black SUV. But before we could leave for his island, Ciro wanted to make the deal official. He brought me here to sign the final papers in front of his lawyers.

I looked down at the papers. My mother had already faked my signature on the first agreement. But this was the final contract. This paper officially moved my job from the Kensington clinic to Ciro’s private company.

I slowly lifted my eyes and looked at the other end of the long glass table.

Ciro Restrepo was watching me.

He looked like a dark, angry king. His bad leg was locked in a heavy metal brace and resting on a soft stool. He wore a sharp black suit with no tie. The top buttons of his shirt were open, showing his tanned skin. He was leaning back in his chair, slowly spinning a gold pen between his large fingers.

He watched every little move I made. Just his stare made the air in the room feel thick. I hated how my skin grew warm when he looked at me.

"Is there a problem, princess?" Ciro’s deep, rough voice finally broke the quiet. He stopped spinning the pen. "You look pale."

"I am just listening to your lawyer talk about me like I am a piece of furniture," I said. My voice was flat. I refused to let him see me shake.

Ciro chuckled. It was a low, dark sound that made my stomach flutter. "You are an investment, Karol. A very expensive one. And I always protect my investments."

Mr. Silva, the head lawyer, cleared his throat loudly. He tapped his finger on a page in the middle of the contract.

"Let us go over the final rules," the lawyer said, fixing his glasses. "Ms. Kensington, you will move to Villa Altamira today. You will live there until Mr. Restrepo is fully recovered and can play soccer again. You cannot leave the island without his permission. You cannot talk to anyone in the Kensington family."

I swallowed hard. I thought about my mother yelling at me. I thought about Valeria’s fake, sweet smile while she packed my stuff into boxes.

I have no family, I reminded myself. The sadness in my chest turned into cold, hard anger.

"Fine," I said clearly. "I agree to the rules."

Ciro’s smile grew wider. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "You are giving up very easily today. It is almost boring."

"I am just ready to get to work, Ciro," I shot back, looking right into his intense eyes. "I told you I would fix your knee. I am a professional. I do my job."

"Good," Ciro murmured. His eyes dropped down to my lips for just a second before looking back into my eyes. It was a very fast look, but it made my heart race wildly. "Because if you fail, the price is very high."

I frowned. I looked away from him and turned to the lawyer. "What does he mean?"

Mr. Silva did not smile. He flipped to the very last page of the thick contract. He pointed to a small paragraph at the bottom, printed in bold black letters.

"Section Eight, Clause B," the lawyer read out loud. His voice had no emotion at all. "The Penalty Clause."

"Penalty?" I repeated. A sudden, cold chill washed over my arms.

"Yes," the lawyer said. "Your mother, Esperanza Kensington, signed a paper to protect your clinic. She made sure the Kensington Institute is no longer responsible for Mr. Restrepo's injury. She gave all the legal blame to you, as his private doctor."

"Explain it to me in simple words."

Ciro answered before the lawyer could open his mouth.

"It means," Ciro said, his voice dropping into a deadly, quiet whisper, "that if I do not get better, my company loses millions of dollars in soccer contracts. And because you are now my personal doctor... you are the one who has to pay me back."

"If my knee does not heal perfectly," Ciro continued softly, never looking away from me, "you will owe me fifty million dollars."

"Fifty million..." I whispered. The words got stuck in my dry throat. "I don't have that kind of money. Not even close. That would ruin me. I would be bankrupt forever."

"Exactly," Ciro said. His arrogant smile vanished. Now, he just looked ruthless. "If you fail to put me back on the field, Karol, I will take your house, your car, your savings, and every single penny you make for the rest of your life. You will belong to my debt forever."

I stared at him in pure horror.

My mother knew this. When she faked my signature this morning, she didn't just sell me. She threw me into a fire to save herself. If I failed, the clinic would be safe, but I would be completely destroyed.

I was trapped. On one side was my toxic, lying family. On the other side was a billionaire holding a knife to my throat.

"Sign the paper, Karol," Ciro ordered softly.

My hands shook violently. I picked up the black pen from the table. The tip rested just above the dotted line. If I signed this, I was walking into a deadly trap. I had to heal a man whose own gear was poisoned by my sister. If Valeria tried to hurt him again while he was under my care, I would take the fall. I would lose my entire life.

I looked up at Ciro one last time. His bronze eyes were watching me, waiting to see if I would cry or break.

How much am I getting for my services?, I asked

Ciro responded,

"10 million dollars, I know your worth, I know that you are the best; that is why I want you."

I set my jaw, pressed the pen to the paper, and signed my name.

Mr. Silva quickly pulled the contract away. "The buyout is done," the lawyer said.

Ciro leaned back in his chair. The dark, victorious smile returned to his handsome face. He looked at me like a predator who had just locked the cage door.

"The helicopter is waiting on the roof. We are going to the island."

Before I could even stand up, the heavy boardroom doors opened, and Mateo Benítez rushed into the room. His dark eyes were wide, and he was holding a ringing cell phone.

"Ciro," Mateo said urgently, ignoring the lawyers. "We have a problem. You need to turn on the news right now. Someone just leaked the medical files to the press."