Chapter 2: The Thorne Marriage Agreement

Julian watched me sign the contract with the detached air of a man buying a piece of property. My pen hovered over the bold line of my name—Evelyn Reed—for a fraction of a second too long.

“Time is a luxury you no longer afford, Evelyn,” he murmured, his gaze sweeping over my face as if looking for signs of rebellion.

I pressed the pen down, the dark ink bleeding into the pristine paper. The moment the loop of the 'd' was complete, a sudden, horrifying thought struck me: I was married to him. Not in love, not in truth, but legally bound to the one man who could ruin me simply by remembering my face.

I slid the contract back to him.

Julian didn't even look at it. He picked up his phone, his granite eyes already moving to the next task. "The transfer for the ten million dollars is initiated. My legal team will handle your family's creditors. You will move into the penthouse tonight."

"Tonight?" I gasped, the professional facade slipping. "But I have... preparations."

"You have a suitcase and a signed agreement," he countered, dismissing my entire life with a wave of his hand. "My driver, Blake, will take you to your old apartment. You have one hour to pack one bag of essentials. Everything else you need will be purchased for you at the penthouse."

He glanced at his watch—a sleek, platinum monster that probably cost more than my father's entire debt. "Blake will wait for you downstairs in precisely 60 minutes. Don't test my patience by being a single second late again."

With that, he rose, already adjusting his cuff links. "My board meeting starts now. Welcome to the Thorne family, Mrs. Thorne."

The title was a slap of cold water. He didn't even use my first name; he used the title that now defined my prison. I turned, my entire world tilting, and walked out of the office, the heavy, soundproof door closing behind me with an audible thunk.

The air in the private elevator was suffocating. I gripped the elegant black handbag that contained my burner phone—my only connection to my secret life.

I had 60 minutes. 60 minutes to go home, pack a bag, and tell my six-year-old son that his mother was leaving.

Lucas.

The moment I thought of him, the panic became a physical weight. My brilliant, sensitive boy. He knew I worked long hours, but I was always there to tuck him in, to read his favorite comic, to talk about his latest coding project. I couldn't just vanish.

I pulled out my burner phone, my fingers flying across the keys to text the one person I trusted completely: Mia.

> Evelyn: Urgent. Code Black. I’m moving out tonight. Need you to meet me at the apartment in 45 min. Can’t talk. Massive favor.

>

Mia, my best friend and the only person who knew all my secrets—the hacker alias, the past with Julian, the identity of Lucas's father—responded instantly.

> Mia: What. The. Hell. On my way. Bring the boy?

>

I hit the lobby floor, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Julian's driver, a mountain of a man named Blake, opened the limo door. I had no time to explain.

"Take me to the address I'm about to give you, Blake. And no speeding. I don't want to draw attention."

The small, cozy apartment I called home felt impossibly warm and safe, a stark contrast to the marble-and-glass mausoleum I had just left. The smell of Mia’s famous beef stew still lingered in the air.

Lucas was sitting at the kitchen table, a huge pair of noise-canceling headphones clamped over his ears, his small face illuminated by the glow of his tablet. He was already coding—a language he picked up faster than most adults. He had Julian’s intelligence, Julian’s dark, almost black hair, and Julian’s intensely focused concentration.

I hated that I had to do this.

I gently tapped him on the shoulder, and he jumped, pulling the headphones off.

“Mom! You’re early!” His face lit up, and for a second, the crushing weight of the contract lifted.

“Hey, sweetie. I have a surprise visitor, and then Mommy has to leave for a bit.”

Mia walked in a moment later, her expression a mix of terror and furious confusion. I pulled her into the bedroom, closing the door firmly.

“He knows?” she hissed immediately, her eyes wide with fear.

“No, not about Lucas. Not yet. But he forced a marriage contract on me. It was ten million dollars or losing the company and going to court. Mia, I had to sign it. I’m his wife now, his fake wife, and I have to move into the penthouse tonight.”

Mia looked ready to faint. “Are you insane? You’re going to live with him? The one man who could recognize Lucas in a heartbeat? What about the hacking?"

“That’s the cover. I told him he can’t ever ask about my life before the contract, and he can’t come to this apartment. It’s my only safeguard. You’re the second part of the plan, Mia. You and Lucas are going to live in a new place—a small, furnished rental I already secured in Brooklyn under a new alias. It’s safe. It’s quiet. You have to be his mother for the time being. No visitors. No public parks. Total lockdown.”

Tears welled in Mia’s eyes. “Evelyn, this is too much. What happens when Julian decides he wants to see his heir?”

"I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, you keep him safe, and I will be his shield. I’m his assistant, his wife, and his hacker ally—I will use every identity I have to protect Lucas from Julian Thorne."

I knelt and hugged her fiercely. "I love you. Tell Lucas I have a new, very important job assignment that will save our family. And please—don't let him forget me."

I grabbed the hastily packed bag—a laptop, the burner phone, and a small, worn, framed picture of Lucas—and turned to face my son.

His smile was gone. He looked up at me, his deep, dark eyes (the same color as Julian’s) already suspicious.

"Where are you going, Mommy?" he asked quietly.

I knelt before him, taking his small hands in mine. This was the biggest lie I’d ever have to tell him.

"I have to go work for Mr. Thorne's family for a while, sweetie," I said, my voice thick with unshed tears. "It’s a big, secret assignment. You'll stay with Aunt Mia, and you guys are going on an adventure, too! But I'll call you every night."

He didn't cry. He was too much like his father for that. He just analyzed. "Is it an important secret?"

"The most important," I promised.

He nodded slowly, processing. "Okay, Mommy. Be safe. And don't forget your password."

I managed a weak smile, kissed him hard on the forehead, and rushed out the door before I completely broke down. Blake was waiting, leaning against the limo, his face a granite mask of impatience.

I tossed my bag inside. The moment the door slammed shut, separating me from the last safe thing in my life, I felt the panic recede, replaced by a cold, sharp resolve.

Julian Thorne wanted a fake wife and an heir. He had both, and he didn't even know it.

The limo pulled away from the curb and headed toward the glittering, terrifying skyscrapers of Julian’s world. I was moving from my small, safe secret into his giant, dangerous one.

I reached inside my bag and gripped the small, worn photo of Lucas. I was married to the enemy, but I would use his own house as my fortress.

The game had just begun.

Hook Question: What rules will Julian impose on Evelyn the moment she steps into his penthouse, and how will she use those rules to secretly run her life?