"Learn to obey."
The words were a physical blow, heavy and demanding in the silence of the penthouse. My spine stiffened against the powerful body behind me. Every instinct screamed at me to fight, to run, to bite. But I had signed the contract. I was a transaction.
I pulled away, wrenching myself from his light hold, turning on shaky legs to face the architect of my misery. The rain had stopped outside, but a storm raged in my chest.
Kieran D'Angelo watched me with the impassive stare of a predator assessing trapped prey.
"Don't fight me, Aurielle," he said, his voice dropping an octave, devoid of the earlier amusement. "You signed the paper. The transaction is complete. First order of business: assurance."
He walked away, toward a dark mahogany desk in a sleek, minimalist study area. I followed him, my wet dress leaving a small trail of water on the pristine marble floor. I didn't care.
He opened a small, high-tech safe embedded in the wall and slipped the signed contract inside. He punched in a code, the mechanism whirring shut with a finality that made my stomach churn.
"Is he okay?" I demanded, my voice raw and desperate. "Tell me you didn't lie. Tell me Adrian is in surgery."
Kieran didn't look at me. He opened a drawer and produced a sleek, brand-new iPhone 16 Pro Max, its metallic gold edges gleaming under the soft lights. He placed it on the glass desk between us.
"This is your phone. Your only phone," he said, the indifference in his tone chilling. "It's fully monitored. Every call, every message, every app. You'll use this and only this. No contact with Jason, your former employer, or anyone who could interfere with our agreement. Do you understand?"
My eyes widened slightly at the device. I'd never even touched the latest model before—it was something I'd only seen in displays or on influencer ads. Now, it lay there like a leash disguised as luxury. Even his control came dressed in gold.
"You can't do this! This is insane!"
"I can," he corrected, leaning back against the desk, crossing his arms. "I just did." He nodded toward the phone. "Call the hospital. Confirm the payment. Confirm his surgery."
My hands trembled as I picked up the phone—so smooth, so unfamiliar it almost mocked me. I found Jason's number already saved. It rang once. Twice.
"Auri?" Jason's voice was strained, thick with relief and worry. "He's stable, Auri! They started the surgery right after you left! The doctor said the payment went through."
A wave of pure, overwhelming relief crashed through me. I gasped, gripping the edge of the desk for support. My baby was safe.
"Thank God," I whispered, tears blurring my vision again—but these were different. These were tears of fragile hope.
"But… they found more issues," Jason continued, his tone turning grim. "It's worse than they thought. He's out of surgery but still critical. The doctor mentioned something about a rare genetic marker… they need to keep him longer."
My chest tightened again. Critical. Extended stay. My brief relief evaporated, leaving only dread. The contract wasn't just for a one-time surgery. It was for his entire survival.
"I—I have to go, Jason," I mumbled, ending the call before he could ask the questions I couldn't answer.
I set the phone back on the desk, meeting Kieran D'Angelo's gaze. The monster who had bought me piece by piece.
He had known. Of course he had known. He'd made sure the surgery wouldn't be simple—he had secured my chains before I even walked in.
Kieran pushed off the desk, walking toward me, his expensive shoes clicking softly against marble. "Good. He's safe," he said, his gaze intense, possessive. "Now you need a shower and a change of clothes. My staff will see to it." He gestured toward a wide hallway I hadn't noticed before. "That is your room. Be ready for dinner at eight. We have guests."
"Guests?" I repeated, my voice flat. "You mean I have to perform for your friends? I'm not a show pony, Kieran. I'm a mother who just sold her freedom."
He stopped in front of me. The heat radiating from him was a stark contrast to my cold, soaked skin.
"You're my wife now," he said quietly. "You'll learn what that costs."
He reached out, his hand closing around my upper arm—not harsh, but firm. He turned me toward the hallway he'd pointed to.
"Go, Aurielle. We have a long year ahead of us."
I had saved my son, but as I walked down that long, gleaming hallway, every step echoed like a sentence being carried out.
I was Mrs. D'Angelo now—
I'd bought my son's heartbeat with my own freedom. The contract wasn't paper anymore — it was skin.
Somewhere behind me, at the far end of the hallway, I felt movement. I turned, but only caught a flash of a maid's uniform disappearing around the corner.
And somewhere in this vast, silent penthouse, Kendella would soon know everything.