Chapter 3: The Contract is Signed

Amelia stood frozen behind her door, her breath shallow, her body unwilling to move. The voice on the other side had been low, smooth, but with an edge of command that felt eerily similar to Lucien’s. Whoever this was, they weren’t here to chat.

Her fingers hovered over the deadbolt, hesitating.

“Who are you?” she called through the door, her voice firmer than she felt.

The pause that followed stretched long enough to unnerve her.

“I’m here on Mr. Voss’s behalf,” the voice said finally. Calm, composed, like they had all the time in the world.

“Open the door, Miss Rivers.”

Her chest tightened.

“He said tomorrow morning.”

“And yet, here I am,” the voice countered, unfazed.

“He’s asked that you come now. It’s not up for discussion.”

Her pulse quickened as a thousand thoughts collided in her mind. Had Lucien changed his mind? Or was this something else entirely?

“Give me a minute,” she said, trying to buy herself some time.

The figure outside didn’t respond, but she could feel the weight of their presence through the door. The kind of presence that didn’t leave until it got what it came for.

She backed away slowly, her mind racing. What could she do? If this person worked for Lucien, there was no point in running. They’d find her. And if they didn’t, Lucien would.

Her gaze darted around her apartment, landing on the sleek black card still sitting on the counter. It felt like an anchor, tying her to the inevitability of this moment.

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. If Lucien wanted to escalate things, fine. She’d meet him on his terms. But she wouldn’t let him see her fear.

Amelia unlocked the door and pulled it open, her chin lifting as she faced the man standing in the dim hallway.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and impeccably dressed in a black suit. His features were sharp, his dark eyes assessing her with a quiet intensity. But there was something else, a cold detachment that told her he was here to do a job, nothing more.

“Miss Rivers,” he greeted with a nod. “Shall we?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe.

“And if I say no?”

The man’s expression didn’t shift.

“I wouldn’t recommend that.”

Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. Finally, she sighed and stepped into the hallway.

“Lead the way.”

The car waiting outside was as sleek and intimidating as the man who escorted her—a black luxury sedan with tinted windows that seemed to swallow the streetlight.

Amelia hesitated as the driver opened the door for her. For a brief moment, she considered bolting, running back inside and locking the door behind her. But where would she go?

Steeling herself, she climbed into the car, the man sliding in beside her. The door shut with a quiet thud, sealing her inside.

The interior was just as luxurious as the exterior—plush leather seats, soft lighting, and an air of quiet power. But it felt cold, impersonal, like everything in Lucien’s world.

As the car pulled away, Amelia turned to the man beside her.

“Are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his tone giving nothing away.

She leaned back, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag as she stared out the window. The city blurred past, a sea of lights and shadows that felt as distant as her old life.

The car stopped in front of a towering glass building in the heart of the city. It was sleek and modern, its sharp edges illuminated against the night sky. Amelia stared up at it, a knot tightening in her stomach.

The man stepped out first, gesturing for her to follow. She hesitated but didn’t argue, her boots clicking against the polished pavement as she stepped onto the curb.

Inside, the building was even more intimidating. High ceilings, marble floors, and an air of quiet efficiency that made her feel out of place.

They rode the elevator in silence, the tension in the small space nearly suffocating. When the doors opened, the man led her down a quiet corridor to a set of double doors.

He pushed them open, revealing an office that was every bit as commanding as its owner.

Lucien Voss sat behind a massive desk, his gray eyes lifting to meet hers as they entered. He was as composed as ever, his suit impeccable, his expression unreadable.

“Miss Rivers,” he said, his voice smooth and controlled.

“I trust the journey wasn’t too inconvenient.”

She stepped forward, her pulse quickening despite her attempt to remain calm.

“You couldn’t wait until morning?”

Lucien’s lips twitched into the faintest of smirks.

“Patience isn’t one of my virtues.”

He rose from his chair and gestured to the seat across from his desk. “Sit.”

Amelia hesitated, her gaze flicking to the man who had brought her here. He stood by the door, his posture relaxed but alert.

Realizing she didn’t have much choice, she moved to the chair and sat, her back straight and her hands gripping her bag.

Lucien settled back into his chair, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Let’s discuss the terms.”

Her stomach dropped. “The terms?”

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a stack of papers, setting them on the desk between them. “The contract,” he said simply.

Amelia stared at the papers, her chest tightening. This wasn’t just real, it was happening now.

Lucien slid the papers toward her, his fingers brushing the edge of the stack.

“You’ll find everything is outlined in detail. Expectations, arrangements, boundaries.”

“Boundaries,” she echoed, the word sounding hollow in her mouth.

His gaze sharpened.

“You’ll live under my roof, attend events as my wife, and fulfill the role I require. In return, your father’s debt will be erased, and you’ll be provided for.”

“Provided for,” she repeated bitterly. “Like a pet.”

Lucien’s expression didn’t change.

“Call it whatever you like, Miss Rivers. But you’d do well to understand the gravity of this arrangement.”

Her hands curled into fists in her lap. “And if I don’t sign?”

His smirk returned, colder this time.

“Then we both know what happens to your father.”

The threat hung in the air, unspoken but unmistakable.

Amelia’s throat tightened as she looked down at the papers. Her mind screamed at her to run, to fight, to do anything but agree to this. But every scenario ended the same way: with her father dead and Lucien winning regardless.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the pen.

Lucien watched her, his gaze steady, unyielding.

Amelia hesitated, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. This was it. The end of her life as she knew it.

And yet, as she signed her name on the line, she felt something else stir within her. Not defeat.

Resolve.

Lucien leaned back in his chair, the faint rustle of his perfectly tailored suit breaking the silence as he took the signed papers. His smirk widened, sharp and calculated, a hunter satisfied with the snare he’d set.

“Welcome to my world, Mrs. Voss,” he said, his voice smooth yet laced with unspoken power.

The title made Amelia’s stomach churn, a nauseating mix of resentment and dread twisting in her gut. But she refused to let him see her falter. Not now, not ever.

She lifted her chin, her jaw tightening as her eyes met his. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something in his gaze, surprise, maybe. Or curiosity. Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual icy composure.

Amelia’s voice came low, steady, each word honed to a razor’s edge.

“Don’t get too comfortable. You may own my name, but you’ll never own me.”

Lucien’s smirk faltered, his gray eyes narrowing just slightly as though her defiance amused him, irritated him, or both. He tilted his head, studying her like a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved.

“We’ll see,” he replied, the words carrying a quiet menace that sent a chill down her spine.

Amelia stood, her movements deliberate, the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She turned, refusing to give him the satisfaction of another glance, and headed toward the door.

The air between them was heavy, charged with unspoken tension, and just as her fingers brushed the cool metal of the handle, Lucien’s voice stopped her cold.

“Oh, and Amelia?”

She froze, her grip tightening on the door, but she didn’t turn around.

“You might want to tread carefully. Things are in motion now, and not everyone in my world will tolerate you as I do.”

The warning hung in the air, a reminder that whatever game she thought she was playing, the stakes were higher than she’d imagined.

Before she could respond, the door opened from the outside. The man who had escorted her in stood waiting, his dark eyes unreadable.

“Let me show you out, Mrs. Voss,” he said, his voice as calm as ever.

Amelia stepped into the hallway, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn’t dare look back, but she could feel Lucien’s presence behind her, his eyes boring into her like a shadow she couldn’t shake.

As the elevator doors closed, sealing her off from him for now, Amelia finally let out the breath she’d been holding. But the sense of relief was fleeting.

Her mind raced with questions, with doubts, with fear. Lucien’s final words echoed in her thoughts, a chilling reminder of the world she’d just stepped into.

And yet, it wasn’t the warning that haunted her most.

It was the way Lucien’s smirk had shifted when she’d stood her ground. As though he’d found something unexpected. Something he wanted to test.

The elevator doors opened to the dark, empty lobby. She stepped outside, the night air sharp against her skin. The black sedan waited at the curb, its engine humming softly.

As she approached, her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She hesitated, pulling it out to glance at the screen. The message was from an unknown number.

Be careful who you trust. He isn’t the only one watching you.

Her breath caught, her eyes darting around the quiet street. But there was no one, just shadows stretching long under the dim streetlights.

Amelia slipped into the car, her heart pounding as the door shut behind her.

Whatever Lucien Voss had planned for her, it was clear: she wasn’t just stepping into his world.

She was walking straight into its darkest corners.