Chapter 3: A Delicate Error

Benedict Eryx had always prided himself on precision. His mind, sharp as a surgeon's scalpel, cut through legalese with practiced ease. Every deal and every document was handled with the utmost care. So when Eirian Kaiser’s cold, seething voice cut through the air in his office, the weight of it pressed down like a suffocating fog, his usual confidence crumbled.

  "If that's a joke, you better cut it off. This document is not a thing to mess with." Kaiser’s words dripped with venom, each syllable sharp enough to slice through steel. His presence loomed over Benedict, radiating the kind of danger that made the air itself feel thick and unbreathable.

  In his chest Benedict's heart thumped. Though not from fear no, he was horrified by his own folly, by the knowledge that he had just made an irreparable error. His hands shook. Sweat beaded at his temples as he delved into his leather bag, his fingers wriggling through the papers and documentation he had kept there, trying hard to locate the file he had handed Izola earlier. The one carrying the correct documentation.

  The papers he found were not the ones he needed. He pulled them out, one by one as if they might suddenly transform into something else. His breath quickened. No. The contract wasn’t there.

  A sick realization settled into his gut, heavier than a thousand-pound weight. He had done it. He had handed Izora the wrong contract. The marriage contract. Instead of the work agreement. Instead of something harmless, something that would have been a simple formality. Instead, he had unknowingly tied her to Kaiser Eirian, the most ruthless mafia boss in the country.

  “Who signed this contract?” Kaiser's voice was low, almost above a snarl, yet it was the kind of inquiry that compelled a response. That was a demand, not a plea.

  Benedict lost his voice. He moistened his lips, but his voice froze in his chest, a knot not easily untangled. At first he was unable to speak. The truth of it came too quickly and too forcefully. How had I done this?

  "It was my mistake, Mr. Kaiser," Benedict said, his voice a tight whisper as he turned to avoid Kaiser's stinging glance at the desk.

  Kaiser remained silent. Not exactly straight away. Rather, there was a silence, the sound of boots on hardwood. Then, before Benedict could even start to feel the movement, powerful fingers tightly around his neck raised him off the ground with terrible simplicity. Kaiser's hold was icy, harsh, like iron.

  Benedict heard his pulse thumping in his ears. His windpipe contracted, a sudden terror wriggling at him as he battled for breath. His hands raced to Kaiser's wrist, but the mafia boss moved nowhere. He was as cool as ever, his face an unreadable mask.

  Kaiser remarked, his voice gentle but eerie, as though the threat was already suggested in every syllable: "I won't ask you again." "Who

  Signature is this?" “Who signed it?”

  Benedict's head whirled. I stop breathing. His head whirled, his vision darkened, and the strain on his neck caused his knees to weaken. I cannot die like this.

  Trying to form words, he gasped, but his body seemed to have stopped listening. "It belonged to my niece. She was supposed to sign an agreement deal. By accident, I handed her your marriage certificate”.

  Believing it was... Though it broke and faltered, it made no difference; Kaiser was still listening, waiting for the rest of the confession.

  Benedict started to speak in a plea. "I considered it as related to business. I didn't” He couldn't complete. Now his breath was uneven, the desperation in his eyes blazing with horror. Benedict's feet hung useless while Kaiser's hold tightened.

  Kaiser’s eyes narrowed, cold, assessing. “Your niece?” he repeated slowly as if savoring the words. “Are you telling me that your niece is now my wife?”

  Benedict's ideas were a jumble of anxiety. Izora. Her niece. a marriage agreement. What are am going to be doing right now?

  His speech came out as choked. “Please, Mr. Kaiser; do not murder me. I can take care of this. Please... I can correct it. Just allow me that is to say.”

  Kaiser's hold on his neck relaxed, and Benedict dropped to the floor gasping for oxygen. He drew a desperate breath and his hands flew to his throat. In his lungs, the blistering sensation felt like fire. He wheezed; his head still cloudy, and he battled to concentrate.

  “How? You fool,” Kaiser muttered, voice dark and menacing. “Those marriage certificates are made that way for a reason. You thought you could correct this mess?”

  Benedict nodded, his chest laboring, but words eluded him. Kaiser stepped aside, contemptuous of him staring down. 

  "I'll give you two days to make things right," he replied, his voice cutting like a razor through the air. 

  "Two days. Fix this or else.”

  Benedict battled to his feet, eyes wide, still unable to grasp what had just happened. Two Days. Though he could not think clearly, one thing was abundantly evident: he was running out of time. 

  Kaiser turned and without words moved towards the entrance. As he left the room, the click of his boots resonated behind him; the door swung closed with a weighty thud. Benedict was left by himself; the silence was suffocating and stifling, the weight of the world pushing down on his chest. With hands shaking as they flew through his hair, his knees weakened and he fell onto the closest chair. 

  Two days: His reality of what he had to do came upon him like a tidal wave.

  —

  The same question tormented Benedict's mind the next day: How the heck am I going to fix this? He had spent the evening pacing and was hardly able to close his eyes. He couldn’t stop thinking about Izora. 

  Izora Draven.His niece. A sweet, innocent girl who had no idea what she had signed. No idea that she was now tied to Kaiser Eirian, a man who would turn her life upside-down unless he didn't want to.

  Benedict’s mind churned with possibilities, but none of them seemed to offer a way out. The marriage contract, once signed, was binding. No annulments could be filed for the first two months unless one of the partners died or both agreed to a divorce after two months. If Izora tried to fight it, the mafia would bury her. The cost of divorce in this case would be astronomical far beyond anything Benedict could ever afford without destroying his life and reputation in the process. Even he didn’t have the resources to fight Kaiser.

  But Kaiser did.

  Benedict’s mind locked onto that thought, sharp as a razor. Kaiser could pay for the divorce after two months.

  But how would he convince him to do that? How would he get Kaiser to care enough to pay for the release of someone he had no reason to want? And it was that girl who caused all this mess.

  The clock was ticking. And he had one day left.

  ---

  The sun was setting when Benedict finally decided to face the music. The air outside was thick with the impending storm. The last few hours had been spent trying to piece together a plan, but there was no perfect solution. Izora had to sign the annulment, and Kaiser had to agree to it. Simple as that.

  He arrived at Izora's flat just as the nighttime sky became a bruised purple, the first raindrops falling on the sidewalk in a steady, rhythmic pattern. 

  Though he battled the desire, his fingers yearned for a cigarette. No time for harmful practices right now. His pulse was louder than the rain, and he pounded on the door.

  Izora opened it and blinked wide, perplexed eyes at him. Her hair is messy from a day indoors, and she appeared small in the doorway, wrapped in a faded jumper. 

  Uncle Benedict? What's occurring? She asked, her voice gentle yet apprehensive. He entered, attempting to project calm. 

  " Izora, we have to talk.” Her eyes jumped to his bag then returned to his face. “On what?. You said I should start work when my mother gets better” Lzora said

  Benedict drew a long breath, his pulse accelerating.

  “It's not that. It's about the document you signed.”

  Izora furrowed her brows, clearly not understanding. “The work agreement?”

  Benedict’s throat tightened. “No, Izora. That was not what you signed.”

  Benedict also sensed this talk marked the start of a dream he might not be able to wake from as the rain started to fall harder outside.