4:Signed

Reva's POV 

“What the… What are you doing here?”

Nico Castellano stood against a black sedan, arms at ease, like he had been waiting right there the whole time.

“Get in the car.”

“I just left your office thirty minutes ago.”

He opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

I looked at the folder in my hand, then at him. I got in.

He shut the door, walked around, and started the car.

“You knew I would not come back,” I said, voice shaking.

“Yes.”

“So you came after me.”

“I came for my answer.”

I opened the folder on my lap. My hands would not stop trembling. “I want the heir clause removed.”

“No.”

The word hit me like a punch. “I am a person,” I whispered. Tears burned my eyes. “Not a machine you can use to make a baby.”

“So?”

“You cannot be serious.” My voice broke. “You are asking me to have a child with a stranger just to fix your reputation…”

“The clause stays.” His voice stayed low and cold. It scared me more than shouting ever could.

I felt something inside me crack. I blinked hard so the tears would not fall. “My name. I keep it for my work. Reva Aldridge.”

He glanced sideways. “After everything that happened in that house? After what your sister did to you? You still want to be called Aldridge?”

My chest seized. A flash of my father’s cold back and my mother’s silence crossed me in an instant. “How do you even know it was Petra?” I asked, throat tight. “How do you know what she did to me? Were you in on it too?”

The temperature in the car dropped. Nico looked at me for one sharp second. His face was not angry. It was colder than anger.

“Why,” he said quietly, “would I use my own hands to destroy the reputation I built with blood and sweat?”

“I just needed to know…”

“I know it was Petra,” he cut in, “because you are too dumb to plan something like that.

She wanted out. She found the cleanest exit she could and she walked through it. That is who your sister is.”

I felt the truth settle heavy in my stomach. He was right. That is who Petra is.

I looked back at the folder. My eyes blurred with fresh tears. “My name,” I said, voice small. “I built everything with it. My dreams. My life. It is the only thing that is still mine.”

“You will be my wife. You will carry my name.” His eyes went back to the road. “Reva Castellano. That is not a negotiation.”

I gripped the folder until my knuckles hurt. “And my work? Do I even get to keep it, or did you put a clause in here that takes that too?”

“You never asked.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“There is no clause about your work.”

I sat up straighter, fighting the sob rising in my throat. “I keep my commissions, my projects, my career. None of that stops. Please.”

“Fine.”

Just like that. Fine. A tiny spark of relief hit me, but it died fast. I felt hollow. “The debt. My family’s debt to you. I want it cleared before I sign. Not later.”

He did not answer right away. The car moved through the dark streets.

“You want it cleared right now?” he said finally.

“Yes.”

Another pause. “Done.”

I looked down at the paper. Tears fell on the page. I had fought and won two small things today, but it was not enough. Every exit I tried cost someone. I refused to allow Petra’s failure ruin whatever remained. Not because my family were worth it but rather I refused to allow her decisions to continue doing damage.

I picked up the pen. My hand shook so hard I could barely hold it. This was it. My life ending on a piece of paper.

I signed.

Nico reached for the folder without a glance and threw it on the backseat. He retrieved a small card from his pocket. “Friday, there is a dinner. Press will be there. You will be ready by seven.”

I took the card. My fingers felt numb. “A public appearance. Already. In three days.”

“Yes.”

The car stopped in front of my building. I had not even noticed we arrived.

I got out. My legs felt like they did not belong to me anymore.

Nico did not move. His eyes found me from behind the glass, as if I were a box ticked.

I stood on the pavement and watched the car disappear into the night.

Then I turned and looked up at my building. The windows glowed soft and warm. My apartment. The one place that had always been mine.

I walked inside. The elevator felt too small, too slow. My keys felt heavy in my hand.

I stepped into my apartment and closed the door behind me.

The aroma of fresh coffee and clean paper and that lavender candle I loved landed at the same moment. I stopped in the center of the room and surveyed the space.

My drawing table still had yesterday’s sketches on it. The chair where I sat every morning watching the sunrise. The bookshelf I filled one book at a time. The bed where I used to feel safe and free.

Tears ran down my face. I did not wipe them. My chest hurt so bad I could barely breathe.

This was my life. The quiet, careful life I built so no one could take it from me. And now it was over.

In three days I would leave all of it and walk into a house I did not know, with a man who saw me as nothing but a solution to his problem.

I sank to the floor, back against the door, folder still in my lap.

My world had just shattered.

And I was the one who had signed the pieces away.