chapter 4

The elevator doors opened into a quiet hallway, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. The casino noise faded behind us, replaced by soft lights, a clean scent, and silence so deep it almost echoed.

Darlington stepped out first, calm and steady, as if nothing unusual was happening. “Come,” he said gently. “We’re only talking.”

Only talking.

But my heart thudded like it was trying to escape.

I followed him into a wide penthouse living room. Everything inside looked expensive but simple. Dark walls. Soft gold light. Huge windows that showed the city glowing below.

It felt like stepping into another world—one far away from debts, fear, and hospital calls.

Darlington stopped near a low table. “Sit. You’re shaking.”

I didn’t even realize I was until I looked down and saw my fingers trembling around my bag. I sat slowly, keeping my eyes low.

He brought me water and placed it in front of me without a word. I didn’t touch it. I felt like any wrong move might break something in my life I could never repair.

Darlington didn’t rush me. He stood near the window, hands in his pockets, watching the city like he had all the time in the world.

Minutes passed before he spoke.

“Freya… why did Grant send you to me?”

My throat tightened. I forced my lips to part.

“I didn’t… I didn’t plan to get involved with him again,” I whispered. “But my mom… she’s dying. The hospital said… the surgery needs to be paid upfront.”

My voice cracked, but I didn’t cry. Not yet.

Darlington turned slowly toward me, his expression unreadable. “That’s why you went to Grant?”

“I didn’t know who else to ask.”

The words felt like they were scraped out of my chest.

He sat in the chair opposite mine, leaning slightly forward. “What does Grant want from me?”

I hesitated. And then the truth spilled out.

“He gave me a folder.”

“A mission.”

“To go into your mansion and take pictures of some files.”

Darlington’s eyes narrowed slightly—not in anger, but in calculation. “Which files?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t tell me what was inside them. Just… three files in your private study.”

“Mm.”

His calmness scared me more than if he had shouted.

I continued, voice soft. “He said if I do it, he’ll pay everything for my mom. If I don’t… he hinted something bad might happen.”

The room fell silent again.

I kept my hands on my knees, trying not to show how badly I was trembling. I hated looking weak in front of anyone, especially someone like him.

Darlington finally spoke. “Your mother… where is she now?”

“At Saint Mary’s Hospital.”

He reached for his phone. My heart jumped.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Calling them,” he said simply. “To confirm the amount.”

I stared at him in shock as he placed the call.

“Hello. This is Darlington Knight. I need to confirm a patient’s bill.”

A pause.

“Yes. Name: Eugene goodswill.”

Another pause.

“Mhm. Yes. I’ll transfer five million dollars to her account.”

My head snapped up. “What? No—no, you can’t—”

He lifted a hand, stopping my words.

“This isn’t for you,” he said calmly. “This is so Grant can’t use your mother to control you.”

The call ended. Darlington placed the phone on the table gently, as if nothing important had just happened.

My throat closed.

My vision blurred.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to stop the tears before they fell.

But one slipped out anyway.

I wasn’t crying because of him.

I was crying because relief hurt in a way pain never did.

Darlington spoke softly. “Do you understand what this means?”

I shook my head slowly.

“It means Grant will come after you. Not because you failed. But because you know too much now.”

A cold shiver ran through me.

He continued, voice firm but not unkind. “If you walk out of this building and return to your normal life tonight, you won’t be safe.”

My stomach twisted.

“What am I supposed to do then?” I asked barely above a whisper.

Darlington leaned back, studying me the same way he studied the city—calm, thoughtful, unreadable.

“You need protection.”

“And I need information about Grant.”

“So…”

He folded his hands.

“I’m offering you a 30-day arrangement.”

I stared at him, confused.

“Not marriage. Not ownership,” he said before I could think the wrong thing. “A companionship contract. You stay in my mansion for thirty days where no one can reach you. You appear publicly with me if needed. You help me observe Grant’s movements. Nothing more.”

My heartbeat slowed just a little.

Not a trap.

Not a cage.

Just… safety.

“And after thirty days?” I whispered.

“You walk away. Free. Safe. And wealthy.”

Wealthy?

The word felt foreign in my mouth.

“I’ll also make sure Grant never comes near you again,” he added.

Quiet filled the room again.

I breathed in slowly.

Breathed out shakily.

Finally, I whispered, “I’ll sign.”

Darlington nodded once, stood, and walked to a small desk. He printed a simple contract — no tricks, no hidden sections. Just rules, boundaries, and safety.

I read every word.

Then signed.

My hand didn’t shake this time.

Darlington took the paper and placed it inside a drawer. “Tonight, you rest. Tomorrow, we begin.”

I stood on unsteady legs. “Where… where do I stay?”

“Here. For now.” He gestured toward a hallway. “I’ll show you to your room.”

He didn’t walk too close.

He didn’t touch me.

He kept a respectful distance the entire way.

He opened a door to a quiet guest room. The lights were soft. The bed looked untouched, like it had been waiting for someone.

“You’re safe here,” he said quietly. “No one can reach you.”

I nodded, swallowing hard.

Before he turned to leave, he added one more thing:

“Rest, Freya. You’ve carried too much alone.”

The door clicked softly behind him.

For the first time in a long time…

I let myself breathe.