🖤 Episode 1: The Deal That Bleeds
The pen trembled in Elara Voss's hand.
Not because she was scared.
But because she knew—once the ink touched paper, there was no undoing this.
The room smelled like money and power. Dark mahogany walls. Crystal chandelier. Silence so heavy it felt intentional.
Across the table sat the man people whispered about like a curse.
Rafael D'Angelo.
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't even look impatient.
That was worse.
Elara forced herself to meet his gaze.
Big mistake.
His eyes were cold—not empty, but calculating. Like he was already ten steps ahead, watching her walk into something she didn't understand.
"Read it again," he said calmly.
His voice wasn't loud.
But it carried weight.
The kind that made people obey without thinking.
"I've read it," Elara replied, keeping her tone steady.
A lie.
She'd skimmed it. Enough to know the basics.
Marriage. One year. Public appearances. Absolute discretion.
And one line that stuck like a thorn—
You belong to me for the duration of this contract.
Her grip tightened on the paper.
"I don't repeat myself," Rafael said, leaning back slightly in his chair.
Still calm.
Still in control.
Always in control.
Elara inhaled slowly, forcing her heartbeat to settle.
"You're asking for a wife, not a prisoner."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
It wasn't warm.
It was dangerous.
"Those two roles aren't always different."
Her stomach twisted—but her face didn't show it.
She placed the contract down on the table.
"Why me?"
Silence.
Rafael finally leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His eyes didn't leave hers.
"Because you said yes."
That wasn't an answer.
"That means there were others."
"There always are."
"Then why choose me?"
For a second—
Just a second—
Something shifted in his gaze.
Interest.
Like she'd just done something unexpected.
"You're asking a lot of questions for someone with no power in this situation."
Elara's jaw tightened.
"I have enough power to walk away."
A pause.
Then—
"Do it."
The words landed like a challenge.
The room went still.
Elara's fingers curled slightly.
He wasn't bluffing.
That was the problem.
Rafael D'Angelo didn't need her.
Which meant—
If she walked out, he wouldn't stop her.
And everything she came here for…
Would be gone.
Her mind flashed—
A hospital room. Machines. Pale skin.
Her brother.
Adrian.
She swallowed.
No.
Walking away wasn't an option.
Rafael watched her carefully.
Not pushing.
Not rushing.
Just waiting.
Like he already knew her answer.
Slowly, Elara picked up the pen again.
"You get one thing straight," she said quietly.
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"This is a contract. Nothing more."
A small pause.
Then—
"Of course," he said.
But something in his tone said he didn't believe that at all.
Elara ignored it.
She signed.
The ink bled into the paper like a mark she couldn't erase.
And just like that—
It was done.
Rafael didn't react immediately.
He simply looked at the signature.
Then at her.
A slow, almost satisfied look crossed his face.
"Welcome, Mrs. D'Angelo."
The name felt wrong.
Heavy.
Like it didn't belong to her.
"It's temporary," she reminded him.
His gaze darkened slightly.
"We'll see."
Ten minutes later, Elara stepped out of the mansion.
Her chest felt tight.
The air outside should've felt freeing.
It didn't.
It felt like she'd just walked out of a cage—
Only to realize she was still inside it.
A black car waited for her.
Driver already holding the door open.
"Mr. D'Angelo's instructions," he said respectfully.
Of course.
Control.
Already.
Elara slid into the backseat without arguing.
The door shut behind her with a soft click.
Final.
As the car pulled away, she stared out the window.
Trying not to think about what she'd just done.
Trying not to think about him.
It didn't work.
His voice echoed in her head.
You belong to me.
Her fingers clenched slightly in her lap.
"No," she whispered under her breath.
"This is just a deal."
Nothing more.
Nothing personal.
Nothing dangerous.
She was lying to herself.
Inside the mansion, Rafael stood by the window.
Watching the car disappear.
Lucien Moreau stepped into the room, hands in his pockets.
"Well," he said casually, "that was fast."
Rafael didn't respond immediately.
His gaze remained fixed outside.
"You didn't even negotiate," Lucien continued. "I'm disappointed. I thought you liked breaking people first."
"She didn't need breaking."
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
Rafael finally turned, his expression unreadable.
"She already knows she has no choice."
Lucien studied him for a moment.
Then smirked.
"Careful."
Rafael's eyes narrowed slightly.
"About what?"
"That one."
Lucien nodded toward the door, where Elara had left.
"She's not like the others."
Rafael's expression didn't change.
"I didn't choose her because she was."
A beat of silence.
Then Lucien's smile widened slightly.
"Exactly my point."
That night, Elara stood in front of a mirror.
A stranger stared back at her.
Same face.
Same eyes.
But something had changed.
Maybe it was the weight of the name.
Or the realization that she'd just tied her life to a man she didn't understand.
Her phone buzzed.
A message.
Unknown number.
Pack your things. You move in tomorrow.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Just an order.
Elara let out a quiet breath.
"Of course," she muttered.
She should've expected that.
Control.
Always control.
Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Then she typed:
This wasn't part of the agreement.
The reply came instantly.
Everything is part of the agreement.
Her jaw tightened.
You don't get to control every part of my life.
A pause.
Longer this time.
Then—
Watch me.
Elara stared at the screen.
Her heart beat faster.
Not fear.
Something else.
Something dangerous.
Because instead of backing down—
She felt the urge to push back.
Miles away, Rafael set his phone down.
A faint smile touched his lips.
She was already resisting.
Good.
That meant she wouldn't be boring.
Back in her room, Elara turned away from the mirror.
Her gaze fell on a locked drawer.
She hesitated.
Then walked toward it.
Opening it slowly.
Inside—
Documents.
Photos.
Secrets.
The real reason she said yes.
Her fingers brushed over one photograph.
Rafael D'Angelo.
Standing beside a man whose face was partially hidden.
But Elara knew who he was.
And if she was right—
This wasn't just a contract.
It was a war.
And she had just stepped directly into the enemy's world.
She closed the drawer.
Her expression hardening.
"Let's see who owns who," she whispered.
End of Episode 1