Chapter One: Signed in Secrets
Rain lashed against the glass windows of the courthouse as Emma Sinclair clutched the pen with trembling fingers. Her signature was the last thing needed.
"Once you sign, you're officially Mrs. Alexander Wolfe," the lawyer said, sliding the papers closer.
Emma's hand hovered above the page. Everything in her body screamed don't do this—but the photo in her purse told another story.
It was her father. Pale, unconscious, tubes snaking from his nose and mouth in the ICU. The medical bill attached to the photo was brutal. And Wolfe Corp had offered to clear it. In exchange for one thing:
Marriage.
Not love. Not even companionship. Just her name on this contract. And her silence.
Alexander Wolfe leaned back in his chair, cold and unreadable. Tall, powerful, with a jaw so sharp it could cut steel. His tailored suit clung to a body that screamed dominance. But it was his eyes that chilled her the most—gray like winter ice. No warmth. No soul.
"I don't have all day, Ms. Sinclair," he said without emotion. "You need me more than I need a bride."
Her fingers finally moved, forming the slanted letters of her name.
Emma Sinclair.
There it was. The death of her freedom.
Alexander stood, not offering his hand. "My assistant will give you the terms. You'll move in tonight. There will be cameras. Appearances. You'll smile for the public. Behind closed doors, you don't exist to me."
Emma's throat tightened. "And what do you get out of this?"
He smirked. "An obedient wife. The media off my back. And leverage."
Leverage?
Before she could ask, he turned and left, coat billowing behind him like the cape of a villain.
Three Hours Later — Wolfe Manor
Emma stared up at the gates of Wolfe Manor. Cold. Steel. Unwelcoming. Just like its owner.
The driver opened the car door but said nothing. Everyone was tight-lipped, like they'd been warned.
Inside, the mansion reeked of money and secrets. Black marble floors. Paintings worth more than her entire life. A staircase that looked like it belonged in a royal palace.
"Mrs. Wolfe, this way," a woman in gray instructed. Her tone was robotic.
Emma was shown to a room. Not a bridal suite. Not a shared bedroom. Just… a guest room. Luxurious but sterile. A prison with golden walls.
On the nightstand sat a phone and a thick binder labeled:
Rules.
Later That Night
Emma wandered into the library, needing air. Her fingers traced the spines of untouched books. She wasn't supposed to be here. But something pulled her in.
A drawer slightly ajar caught her eye. Curious, she tugged it open—and her blood froze.
Inside were photographs. Of her.
Walking to work. Buying coffee. Visiting her father in the hospital.
This wasn't just a marriage of convenience. This was surveillance. A setup.
Before she could pull her hand away, a voice growled behind her.
"You were told to stay out of my private wing."
Emma spun around to find Alexander in the doorway, sleeves rolled up, eyes burning.
"You've been watching me," she whispered.
He stepped closer. "Don't flatter yourself. I watch everything. Especially when I'm making an investment."
Emma's face flushed with fury. "Is that all I am to you? An asset?"
"No," he said, stepping into her space. "You're a gamble."
"And what if I decide not to play?"
He leaned in until his lips brushed her ear.
"Then you'd better be ready to lose."
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Cliffhanger Ending (Chapter One):
Suddenly, a phone buzzed. Alexander checked it, face hardening. He turned to Emma, voice sharp.
"Pack your bags. We're going to Paris. Tonight."
Emma blinked. "What? Why?"
He didn't answer. But the name on the phone's screen still glowed.
Damien Vale.
The one man powerful enough to destroy Alexander Wolfe—and the name tattooed on the secret that brought Emma here in the first place.