CHAPTER 3:THE FIRST NIGHT

Monday morning. 7AM.

I woke up in silk sheets and panic.

This wasn’t my bed. This wasn’t my life.

My phone had 3 missed calls from the hospital.

"Miss Carter, we received the payment. Your brother’s surgery is confirmed for Friday 9AM."

I cried into my pillow. Happy tears. For the first time in months.

Then my door opened. No knock.

Damian stood there in a suit. Hair perfect. Face blank.

"Breakfast. 10 minutes. Don’t be late."

He closed the door.

---

The dining room was bigger than my kitchen. Floor-to-ceiling windows.

Damian was already eating. Reading something on a tablet.

"Good morning," I said quietly.

He didn’t look up. "Sit."

The housekeeper put eggs and coffee in front of me. I didn’t know her name.

"Thank you," I whispered to her.

She smiled. Damian didn’t.

"Today," he said, still reading. "Charity gala. 8PM. Wear the red dress. Be there by 7:30."

"Okay."

"You’ll stand next to me. Smile. Answer questions as 'Mrs. Cole'. Then we leave."

"Got it."

Silence. Just the sound of his fork.

"Damian?"

"What."

"Can I... visit my brother before Friday? At the hospital?"

His eyes finally lifted. Cold. "Yes. With security."

"Thank you."

He went back to his tablet. Dismissed.

---

8PM. The gala.

The red dress fit like it was made for me. $15,000. Stilettos that hurt.

Damian wore black. As always.

Cameras flashed the second we stepped out of the car.

"Mr. Cole! Who is this?"

"Mrs. Cole," he said, hand on my lower back. "My wife."

For show. For the contract.

Inside was champagne and billionaires.

And then I saw her.

Sophia. His ex. In white. Dripping diamonds.

She walked straight to us and hugged Damian. Like I wasn’t there.

"Damian, baby. You look amazing."

"Sophia." He didn’t hug back. But he didn’t pull away either.

Then he did it.

He turned to a group of investors and said, "This is Ali. My wife."

Then he turned to me and said, "Ali, get me a drink. Whiskey. Neat."

Like I was the waitress.

The room went quiet for half a second.

Sophia smirked.

My face burned. $5 million. One year. Don’t fight. Don’t react.

"Of course," I said sweetly. And walked to the bar.

My hands shook pouring the drink.

Humiliation tasted worse than anything.

I brought it back. Handed it to him.

"Thank you, darling," I said loud enough for everyone to hear.

His jaw ticked.

We left 20 minutes later.

---

The Bentley was silent the whole ride home.

The second the elevator doors closed on floor 89, I snapped.

"Was that necessary?" My voice shook.

"What." He took off his jacket.

"Introducing me like I’m your servant. In front of everyone."

"It’s a contract, Ali. Not a fairytale." He poured himself whiskey.

"So I’m supposed to just take it? Be humiliated?"

"Yes." He looked at me. "That’s what you signed up for."

Something broke in me.

"You know what? Keep your money." I yanked the ring off. "I don’t need to be treated like trash to save my brother."

I threw the ring at him. It hit his chest and fell to the floor.

Damian went still. Very still.

"Pick it up."

"No."

"Pick. It. Up. Mrs. Cole."

I stared at him. Tears in my eyes but I wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him.

"Or what? You’ll fire me again?"

He crossed the room in 2 steps. Grabbed my wrist. Not hard. But firm.

"You walk out that door without that ring, the contract is void. And the second payment disappears. Your brother’s second treatment? Gone."

My breath caught.

"So choose," he whispered. "Pride. Or your brother."

He let go and walked to his room.

I stood there shaking. The ring on the floor between us.

I bent down. Picked it up. Slid it back on my finger.

Because I had no choice.

Rule #1: Don’t fall for him.

Rule #3: Survive.

Even if it kills me.

END OF CHAPTER 3