Chapter 6 – Elena's POV
I stepped lightly toward the dining table, my feet sinking into the plush carpet of Justin's penthouse like it was trying to swallow me whole. My heart pounded in my chest, each step a reminder of the terrifying reality I'd found myself in. I tried to appear calm, gathering every shred of courage I had left, though my hands trembled so badly I thought he'd see right through me.
When I reached the table, he was already there. Justin sat with that same cold composure he'd carried the first time I'd seen him. No smile, no polite greeting just that unreadable face that said everything and nothing at the same time. He didn't even bother to say good morning.
"Sit," he ordered, his voice as smooth as steel. "Let's get to business."
He didn't bother to make small talk, no inquiries about whether I'd slept well, or how I was feeling. It was as if I was just another item on his daily checklist, another obligation he needed to check off before moving on to the next.
My breath caught in my throat as he slid a thick document across the table toward me. The contract. It landed in front of me with a dull thud, like a guillotine blade.
"Read it," he said. "If you have any objections, tell me now."
My fingers fumbled as I picked up the document. The pages felt heavier than any textbook I'd ever held, each one representing a decision my father had forced me into a life I hadn't chosen.
With trembling hands, I began to read:
Marriage Contract Between Justin Shawn and Elena Clark
Clause 1: The marriage shall be legally binding and last for a lifetime.
Clause 2: During the term of the marriage, both parties shall present themselves as a happily married couple in public and on social media, attending events together and maintaining appearances for business and personal image.
Clause 3: Elena Clark shallreside in the primary residence provided by Justin Shawn unless otherwise instructed. Travel, accommodations, and all personal needs shall be provided for by Justin Shawn.
Clause 4: Financial obligations incurred by Elena Clark's father shall be considered settled in exchange for Elena Clark's commitment to this marriage contract.
Clause 5: Elena Clark shall not engage in any romantic or intimate relationships outside the marriage during the term of the contract.
Clause 6: Justin Shawn shall have exclusive rights to make decisions regarding business and personal representation during the term of the contract.
Clause 7: Should Justin Shawn become dissatisfied with the arrangement or deem it no longer necessary, he reserves the right to dissolve the marriage and release Elena Clark from her obligations at his discretion.
Clause 8: In the event of dissolution, all financial obligations shall remain settled, and Elena Clark shall receive a severance package to support her transition to an independent life.
Clause 9: Both parties agree to maintain confidentiality regarding the details of the marriage, including but not limited to the circumstances that led to its arrangement.
* * * * *
The pages blurred in front of my eyes. I swallowed hard, feeling my throat close with each clause I read. It felt like reading a manual on how to give away your life to someone else, with every detail spelled out in black and white.
My gaze snagged on Clause 7, the one that hit like a dagger through my chest. Should Justin Shawn become dissatisfied with the arrangement or deem it no longer necessary, he reserves the right to dissolve the marriage and release Elena Clark from her obligations at his discretion. The words felt like a death sentence a reminder that my entire existence here was conditional. Temporary.
I lifted my eyes to meet his. He was staring at me, expression unreadable, as if he were assessing whether I would crumble or stand my ground. For a moment, I wished I could scream at him. That I could tell him this was all wrong, that I wasn't some item he could lease and discard.
But I forced myself to breathe. To act strong.
"I have one objection," I said, my voice barely steady.
His eyebrow lifted fractionally. "And what is it?"
"That clause," I said, my finger trembling as I pointed to Clause 7. "The one that says you can dissolve the marriage whenever you're tired of me. That's not fair. You're asking me to give up everything to become your wife in name and yet you hold all the power to end it whenever it suits you."
He watched me coolly, as though weighing my words. The silence stretched between us like a taut rope, threatening to snap.
"I understand," he said finally. "But fairness isn't part of this arrangement, Elena. This is a business contract, not a romance. If it makes you feel any better, you'll receive compensation if that happens."
Compensation. Like I was some corporate acquisition he could liquidate whenever it suited him.
"That's not enough," I shot back. "I'm a human being, not a commodity. If you want me to sign this, I want a clause that says I get a say in when this ends. I want the right to decide if I want to walk away too."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't interrupt.
I swallowed. "If you can end it, then I can too."
His jaw tightened, and I saw the flicker of something dangerous pass across his face. But then he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as though he were pondering the request.
"That's a bold demand," he murmured. "Why should I agree to it?"
"Because," I said, forcing myself to meet his eyes, "you're asking me to give up my life for you. I deserve to have at least one choice left."
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he tapped his finger against his lips, his gaze never leaving mine. For the first time, I saw a glimmer of hesitation or was it curiosity?
After what felt like an eternity, he sighed, leaning forward again.
"You don't have the right to even talk about anything in this contract because we have the upper game and hand".
I was shocked and flabbergasted.
"But before I dissolve the marriage I would be giving you ninety days notice and you can to, if you are tired of this marriage, you can write an official letter, if it's valid I would grant unto you the divorce but that's after 2 years" Justin said.
Ninety day and I can bring up the issue about divorce but after 2 years.It felt like another cage. But at least it was a door, however small.
"Fine," I whispered. "Ninety days."
He slid the contract back toward himself. "I'll have the lawyers adjust it."
And just like that, the discussion was over. My life negotiated in a morning meeting over coffee and legalese.
He stood up, brushing off his perfectly tailored suit like I'd wasted his time.
"You have two days to prepare," he said coldly. "The wedding will be private. After that, we'll be expected to make our appearances together."
I wanted to ask him why. Why me? Why did he need this so badly? But I knew the answer. Investors. Business. The image of a family man.
He didn't need a wife. He needed a prop.
I stood up, legs shaky, and watched as he turned his back and walked away, leaving me alone in a house that felt more like a prison than a home.
As the butler came to clear the table, I held my breath, trying to stop the tears from falling. This was it. My life, my freedom bought and sold like some luxury item he could discard at will. It's really getting real.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, I wondered: could I ever find a way to turn the tables?