Chapter Four: The Contracted Union

CALISTA

The courthouse was stark and cold, the fluorescent lights casting an unforgiving glow over the sterile surroundings. I sat on a bench outside the courtroom, my hands clenched in my lap. Beside me, Howard Adams, my adoptive father, stood rigidly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You better not embarrass the family, Calista,” he said, his tone sharp enough to slice through steel.

I didn’t respond. What could I say? I had already been forced into this sham of a marriage, cornered into salvaging a situation I hadn’t created. My stomach churned, anxiety threatening to unravel me as the reality of what lay ahead pressed down on my chest.

“Miss Adams?”

A man in a sleek suit stepped out of the courtroom, adjusting his glasses. His tone was clipped, professional. “Mr. Dario is ready for you. Please follow me.”

I stood, my legs shaky but determined. Howard trailed behind, his footsteps heavy with judgment.

The assistant led us into the courtroom, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the man sitting at the far end of the room.

Cassius Dario.

He sat in a wheelchair, yet his presence dominated the space. His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders, emphasizing a strong, commanding frame. His sharp jawline and steely hazel eyes seemed to pierce through me. Despite his composed demeanor, there was a weight to him—a coldness that made the room feel even more oppressive.

His gaze flicked to me, then to my father, before returning to me. For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe?—but it vanished so quickly I wondered if I imagined it.

“So, you’re the girl they chose,” he said, his deep voice smooth yet detached, as though he were assessing a business transaction.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Yes.”

Howard stepped forward, clearing his throat. “This marriage is important to both families, Mr. Dario. I trust everything will proceed smoothly.”

Cassius didn’t even spare him a glance. “You’ve done your part. You can leave now.”

My father’s jaw tightened, but he nodded stiffly and exited the room without another word, leaving me alone with Cassius and his assistant, Martin Cole.

“Miss Adams,” the officiant called, gesturing toward the center of the room. “Shall we begin?”

I walked forward on shaky legs, taking my place beside Cassius. His scent—an intoxicating blend of cedarwood and musk—reached me, oddly familiar. I frowned, but the thought slipped away as the officiant began speaking.

The ceremony was quick, devoid of romance or sentiment.

“Do you, Calista Adams, take Cassius Dario to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And do you, Cassius Dario, take Calista Adams to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, his tone cool and indifferent.

When it came time to sign the papers, Cassius moved first. He rolled his wheelchair forward with practiced ease, his movements smooth and confident. As he signed, I noticed the veins on his hand, the way his long fingers gripped the pen with precision.

The pen was handed to me next. My fingers trembled as I wrote my name, each stroke of the pen feeling like another chain locking into place.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Dario,” the officiant said, handing over the marriage certificate. “You are now officially husband and wife.”

I glanced at Cassius, but his expression was unreadable.

“Martin,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Yes, sir?”

“Take her to the mansion. She’ll need to adjust to her new life.”

His dismissive tone made my blood boil. “Excuse me?” I snapped, turning to face him. “I’m standing right here. Don’t talk about me like I’m invisible.”

Cassius leaned back in his chair, an eyebrow arching in mild amusement. “You’re not invisible, wife. Just irrelevant.”

Anger flared in my chest, but I bit back the retort burning on my tongue. Instead, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, my mind racing.

There was something about him—his voice, his scent, even the sharp lines of his face. It tugged at a memory I couldn’t quite grasp. And then there were his eyes...

Dark hazel. Just like Aaron’s.

The thought struck me like lightning, and I froze in the hallway. No, I was imagining things. There was no way—

“Mrs. Dario?” Martin’s voice startled me out of my thoughts. “Shall we go?”

I nodded mutely, letting him lead me away, though my mind remained stuck on that fleeting resemblance. Could it be possible?

---

CASSIUS

When I first saw her, I wasn’t impressed.

Calista Adams was nothing like the polished, refined women I had expected my family to throw at me. She was plain, simple—not the type to turn heads in a crowded room. Yet there was something about her, something in the way she carried herself, that caught my attention.

Her defiance intrigued me. Most women would have been too intimidated to stand up to me, but not her. She had fire, even if it was buried beneath her nervous exterior.

I watched her as she signed the papers, her hands trembling slightly. She was scared, but she didn’t let it show. There was strength in her, though I doubted she realized it yet.

Once the ceremony ended, I wheeled myself out of the room, the marriage certificate clutched in my hand. I didn’t need Martin’s assistance—I never did.

As I moved down the hallway, her scent lingered in the air, a faint, familiar sweetness that stirred something deep in my memory. And her face… there was something unsettlingly familiar about her features.

No. It was nothing.

“This is just a contract,” I muttered under my breath, glancing at the certificate. “But contracts have terms. And she’d better learn to follow them.”

Yet, as I replayed the brief interaction in my mind, one thought nagged at me: Why did her presence feel so familiar? And why couldn’t I shake the feeling that I’d met her—or someone like her—before?