"Sign it."
Two words.
That was all it took for my world to tilt on its axis.
No greeting. No small talk. Not even a smile.
Just a stack of papers dropped in front of me like a loaded gun, and a voice that made the air in the room turn cold.
I looked up-and my breath caught.
Adrian Vale.
The name alone was enough to send a shiver down spines. The man whispered about in corridors of power, the shadow lurking behind closed-door deals. Tall, broad-shouldered, a tailored black suit fitting him like sin itself. His hair was midnight-dark, his eyes even darker-two pits of polished obsidian that didn't just look at you, they saw through you.
And right now, all that focus was on me.
"I'm not signing anything," I managed, forcing my voice not to shake.
He didn't blink. Didn't flinch. "You will."
I shoved the papers back toward him, my fingers trembling before I could stop them. "What is this supposed to be? Some kind of sick joke?"
Adrian's lips twitched, not into a smile, but something far more unsettling-a ghost of amusement that didn't reach his eyes. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the mahogany desk that separated us, the movement controlled, predatory.
"It's not a joke, Miss Colloway. It's a contract. A marriage contract. To me."
For a moment, I thought I'd misheard. Marriage? To him? The idea was so absurd, so impossible, my brain rejected it outright.
"Why?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.
He studied me, as though weighing how much truth to give. Then, his voice dropped lower, darker. "Because your father owes me. And debts... must be paid."
"My father-"
"-ruined mine," he cut in, his tone sharp enough to draw blood. "Years ago. Before you were old enough to spell your own name. And now..." His finger tapped the top page of the contract, the sound unnervingly final. "...you'll carry mine."
My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears. "You can't force me-"
"I can," he interrupted, his voice calm but deadly. "And I will."
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. When I didn't reach for the pen, he sighed-slow, measured, like a man trying to be patient with a disobedient child. Then he started speaking. Not about himself, but about me.
My address. My workplace. My bank account balance-down to the cent. My mother's hospital visits. My younger brother's tuition fees. My father's unpaid debts, and the names of the people he owed.
Every detail was a blade stripping away my illusion of safety, slicing me open until there was nowhere left to hide.
"What do you want from me?" I whispered, though deep down, I already knew.
"You" He said.
His gaze sharpened, cutting through me like glass. "Your name will be mine. Your body will be mine. Your loyalty will be mine. Or..." He leaned in, close enough for the heat of his breath to fan across my cheek. "...they will pay for what you refuse to give."
My hands clenched into fists under the table. "I'm not signing this."
Finally, he smiled-slow, deliberate, cruel. "You have twenty-four hours." He slid the pen toward me, its sleek silver barrel catching the light. "Choose your freedom... or their survival."
Then he rose to his full height, towering over me like a shadow I couldn't escape, his gaze never once leaving my face.
"And, Miss Colloway?" His voice was pure ice. "If you think I'm bluffing... you'll regret it."
He sank back into his seat, one hand curling lazily around a crystal tumbler of amber liquid, his eyes following me as if I were already his possession.
And maybe, in a way, I was.
Because to save my family, I had walked straight into the devil's lair.
My life had always been perfect-or at least it had looked that way from the outside. I was the daughter of Charles Colloway, one of the most influential men in the country. We lived in a glass mansion on the hill, drove cars worth more than some people's houses, and wore our wealth like a second skin.
But perfection is a fragile thing. And my father... my father had smashed it to pieces.
A bad investment, they'd said. A loan to the wrong people. Whispers of dangerous business partners who didn't like waiting for their money. I'd thought those were just rumors-until today.
Now, I knew the truth.
My father didn't just owe money. He owed Adrian Vale.
And Adrian Vale didn't take payment in cash.
He took it in blood, in power, in ownership.
I thought of my mother's tired smile t home, of my brother hunched over my father's documents, of my father-pale, sweating, avoiding my eyes whenever I asked too many questions.
How had I ended up here?
How had my perfect life turned into a cage woven from blackmail and threats?
I didn't have the answer. But I knew one thing-Adrian Vale had just set the terms. And whether I liked it or not...
The clock had started ticking. But I wasn't going to give up just yet- I'll help my family one way or the other.