Chapter 2

Eliana read the clause three times.

Then a fourth.

She stared at the words as though they might rearrange themselves if she looked long enough.

They didn't.

"Absolutely not."

Ivy sat across from her in the now-empty café, arms folded as she watched the contract like it might bite. Her expression had moved past curiosity. Now it was concern.

"Read it again."

"I don't need to." Eliana dismissed.

"Read it."

Eliana exhaled and flipped back a page.

"'The wife shall reside at Wolfe Manor for the entire duration of the marriage.'"

“And?” Eliana’s gaze dropped lower.

"'Under no circumstances may she leave the estate without her husband's permission.'"

Ivy leaned back slowly.

"That's not a marriage."

"No."

"That's imprisonment with expensive furniture."

Despite herself, Eliana almost smiled. She closed the folder; the same one she should have pushed away.

She should have thrown it in the bin and told Ivy never to mention Drevian Wolfe or his ridiculous contract again. Instead, her fingers remained resting on the black cover.

Ten million dollars. The number still didn't feel real.

It sat on her mind like something borrowed from another life. With that money, her father's hospital debt would disappear. The house would be safe. His treatment could continue without Eliana lying awake every night wondering how long she could keep pretending they were financially fine.

She could return to school. She could stop taking calls from numbers she didn't recognize.

She could breathe again. And at what cost? Twelve months. Just twelve months of her life.

That was all the contract asked of her.

Twelve months of living with a man she didn't know.

Twelve months of pretending to be his wife.

Twelve months inside a house she wasn't allowed to leave without his permission.

She felt an unease in her heart.

"There's more," she suddenly said and Ivy's eyes widened. "How much worse can it get?"

"He wants complete confidentiality."

"Expected."

"No public relationship."

Ivy frowned. "You're marrying him."

"After the marriage too." At this, Ivy sat up.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means there are restrictions on what I can say about him. About the marriage. About the arrangement."

Ivy's expression darkened.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I can't explain why I agreed to marry him."

"To anyone?"

"Not without permission."

"Eliana." Ivy called, worried.

"I know."

Ivy leaned forward.

"You know what people say about him."

"I know."

"Three women are dead."

"We all know."

"One woman disappeared two weeks ago."

"I know."

"Then why are you still reading the contract?"

Eliana didn't answer, because the contract frightened her. But not as much as everything else.

Her father had always believed hard work protected people. Work hard enough, save carefully enough, make good decisions, and eventually life would reward you for doing the right things.

Then the stroke came, and the hospital bills. Not just that. There were the medication, the calls, the notices from the bank, the warning that if she didn't catch up soon, they could lose the house.

She had sold her mother's jewellery first, then her laptop, and then anything else that could be turned into money. She had taken extra shifts until there were no extra shifts left to take.

And still, every month seemed to bring another bill, another problem, and another amount she couldn't afford.

Now there was nothing left to sell, except herself. And someone had just priced twelve months of her life at ten million dollars. Ivy reached across the table and placed her hand over Eliana's.

"You don't have to do this."

Eliana looked at her. For a moment, she wanted to believe that.

But then her phone buzzed. Both of them looked at it.

Another unknown number.

Eliana stared at the screen until the call stopped. A message appeared immediately afterward.

FINAL NOTICE: CONTACT YOUR ACCOUNT OFFICER WITHIN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO AVOID FURTHER ACTION.

She turned the phone facedown. Ivy's face softened.

"How bad is it?"

Eliana looked at the contract.

"Bad enough that I'm still considering this."

Silence settled between them. Then Ivy picked up the folder again.

"All right."

Eliana looked up.

"What?"

"If you're actually thinking about it, then we're not just reading the scary parts."

Ivy opened the contract.

"We're reading every single line."

A small smile tugged at Eliana's mouth.

"You're impossible."

"I know." She pointed to the contract.

"Start from the beginning."

Eliana looked down at the first page. Her name was already there, typed neatly beside Drevian Wolfe's. As though someone had already decided they belonged together.

She hated that thought. She hated the fact that Wolfe Holdings had researched her. She hated that Adrian Cross knew about her father's illness.

And she especially hated that when Adrian had mentioned her father's medical history, his words had changed. As if there was something he hadn't meant to reveal.

Eliana looked toward the café window.

Outside, people moved along the pavement, wrapped in coats and scarves, carrying shopping bags and umbrellas. Normal lives and normal problems.

She wondered what it felt like to wake up without calculating how much money remained in your account.

Her gaze dropped back to the contract, then she turned the page.

***

Drevian Wolfe stood at the window of his office on the thirty-sixth floor. The city below looked distant from there. It was easier to believe the world could be controlled when viewed from this high above it.

A knock sounded behind him and Adrian entered without waiting for permission.

"She knows about the wives."

Drevian didn't turn.

"Of course she does."

"She knows about the clause too."

"Good."

Adrian placed a file on the desk.

"She's considering it." That made Drevian turn.

"She shouldn't be."

Adrian stared at him.

"You asked her to marry you."

"I asked her to sign a contract."

"You offered her ten million dollars." Adrian retorted.

"Because she needs it."

"And that's exactly why she might accept." Drevian's jaw tightened.

"She has no idea what she's walking into." He then said.

"Neither did the others." Adrian regretted the words the moment they left him.

Drevian's expression hardened.

"Don't compare her to them."

"I'm not." He defended.

"You were."

Adrian exhaled slowly, and then he looked at the file on the desk.

"I need to ask you something."

Drevian said nothing. He already knew what his friend would ask.

"Why her?"

Drevian moved away from the window.

There were plenty of women who would have accepted: socialites, actresses, heiresses. Women who already belonged to his world and understood what came with his name.

Some of them would have considered ten million dollars a bonus for marrying him. But he hadn't approached any of them. He had chosen Eliana Hart.

"She was at St. Vincent's Hospital the night Sofia disappeared."

Adrian went still.

"What?"

"She worked there."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know if it mattered."

"And now?" Drevian glanced at the file.

"Now I think it does."

Adrian opened it.

"She was a temporary administrative assistant for four months."

"Three."

Adrian looked up.

"You know her employment history that precisely?"

Drevian ignored him while Adrian turned another page.

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know."

That was the problem. For years, Drevian had been collecting fragments.

A missing medical report, a deleted security file, a witness who changed her story overnight, a nurse who resigned without explanation.

Every time he thought he had found something worth following, it disappeared.

Until Eliana Hart appeared. It was not that she was suspicious, but someone had searched for her.

Someone who should never have known her name. Adrian studied the documents.

"Her father was admitted to St. Vincent's three years ago."

Drevian's expression remained unreadable.

"Her medical records were accessed recently."

"Yes."

"Do we know by whom?"

"No."

"Hospital staff?"

"Not according to the system."

Adrian looked up.

"What does that mean?" Drevian walked toward his desk.

"It means someone found a way around the system."

"Why would anyone want information about Eliana's father?"

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"And you still approached her?"

Drevian's gaze moved toward the window.

"Someone was already interested in her before I was."

Adrian stared at him.

"That's supposed to make this better?"

"No."

"Then why bring her closer to you?"

Drevian didn't answer immediately, because he had asked himself the same question.

Was he bringing Eliana closer because he wanted to protect her? Or because keeping her close was the only way to understand why someone had found her first? Either answer made him uncomfortable.

"Keep looking," he said.

Adrian closed the file.

"At what?"

Drevian's gaze settled on Eliana's photograph clipped to the front page.

Her face was serious, unimpressed, and unaware of how much her life was about to change.

"For the reason they found her."

***

Eliana arrived at Wolfe Holdings the next afternoon. The building swallowed the sky.

Its glass walls reflected sunlight so sharply that she had to look away as she approached the entrance.

Inside, everything was polished stone, quiet voices and people who looked as though they had somewhere important to be.

Eliana suddenly became aware of her worn handbag, her plain blouse, her shoes. Everything that reminded her she didn't belong in places like this.

She straightened anyway. The receptionist smiled when she approached.

"Miss Hart?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Wolfe is expecting you."

Of course he was.

Eliana followed the receptionist toward a private elevator. The doors closed behind her and for a moment, she was alone. Her reflection stared back at her from the metal walls.

Ordinary.

That was the first word that came to mind. Maybe that was why he had chosen her.

Ordinary people were easier to overlook and perhaps easier to control.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened. Drevian Wolfe stood at the end of the corridor.

She had seen him in photographs, but none of them had prepared her for him.

He was taller than she expected.

His dark suit fit perfectly. His hair looked slightly undone, as though he had run a hand through it and forgotten to fix it afterward.

His face was composed, yet his eyes weren't. They were cold, yes. But not empty.

There was something else beneath the coldness. Fatigue, perhaps, or something heavier. He walked toward her.

"Miss Hart."

"Mr. Wolfe." He held out his hand.

Eliana hesitated before taking it. His grip was firm, warm, and human. For some reason, that unsettled her more than it should have. She had expected his hand to feel like something colder or distant.

Instead, he let go and gestured toward his office.

"This way." She followed him inside.

The room was large and almost entirely empty. There were books, a desk and glass walls overlooking the city.

But there was nothing personal.

No photographs, no decorations, no signs that the man who worked there had a life beyond this office.

Drevian took a seat while Eliana remained standing.

He looked at her.

"You read the contract."

"Yes."

"And?" She crossed her arms.

"I think you need a wife more than I need ten million dollars."

Something flickered in his expression.

"Perhaps." Drevian shrugged.

"Why me?"

"Because you're available." Eliana stared at him.

"That's not an answer."

"No." He agreed.

"Then give me a real one."

For a moment, he said nothing. His eyes remained fixed on hers.

Then he leaned back slightly.

"I need someone who won't fall in love with me."

Eliana's eyebrows rose.

"That sounds arrogant."

"It's practical."

"Why?"

"Love makes people reckless." A short, disbelieving laugh escaped her.

"You're proposing marriage and warning me not to fall in love with you."

"Yes."

"And you expect me to agree?"

"I expect you to decide whether ten million dollars is worth twelve months of your life."

The words settled between them.

Twelve months. Her father's treatment, the house, the debt. Her freedom.

The contract.

She hated that he had reduced her entire life to a question she could not easily answer. But she hated even more that she didn't immediately say no.

Her eyes dropped briefly. She noticed a faint scar near his wrist. She hadn't seen it when they shook hands.

"Do you kill your wives?" The room changed.

There was silence, so much silence that even the air seemed heavier.

Drevian didn't move, but his eyes communicated something quite unreadable.

"No."

"So they were accidents?"

"No."

Her pulse tightened.

"Then what are you saying?"

Drevian stood and walked toward the window, his hands slipping into his pockets. For the first time since she entered the office, Eliana wondered if he was afraid to look at her when he answered.

"My wives were not accidents."

Eliana slowly rose from her chair.

"What does that mean?"

He turned back. His expression was unreadable.

"It means someone killed them."

Eliana swallowed. She couldn’t speak. The words didn’t fit the room. And, it definitely didn’t fit him.

Then he said it quietly, almost like a warning he didn’t want to give.

"And if you become my wife, Eliana..." He paused. "...they will come for you too."