Elina's hand trembled as she left Adrian's office. The ink had barely dried, yet its grip already felt unbreakable.
Outside, the sun burned too brightly. The sky was an unforgiving shade of blue, and the air held a suffocating warmth that clung to her skin like guilt. Birds chirped overhead, their songs grating against the silence in her mind.
How could the world carry on as if nothing had changed?
As if I hadn't just sold myself for a dream?
The drive home vanished in a blur—of motion outside, and silence within. Trees sped past in flashes of green, traffic lights blinked red and gold, and still her mind played the same scene over and over again—Adrian's voice, his smirk, the slow, steady pressure of the pen he had placed in her hand.
She hated herself for giving in. For allowing desperation to triumph over pride.
But what choice did I have?
No one else had offered to help me. No one had believed in my vision. Adrian, for all his cruelty, was the only one who had offered me a path forward—even if it was one lined with thorns and shackles.
The iron gates of the Castellano estate creaked open to admit her car. Elina parked with mechanical precision, her hands moving as if detached from her mind. Her body moved on habit, not will.
She stepped out on unsteady feet, ignoring the curious glances of the staff as she crossed the threshold and walked inside.
"Elina!" her mother's voice rang out from the hallway, sharp with irritation. "So you spent the entire day with that friend of yours? You storm out before breakfast and don't even bother to call? This is not how a Castellano behaves!"
Elina didn't respond. She turned towards the staircase, needing the safety of her room like air in her lungs.
Isabella's heels clicked loudly as she approached. "Answer me when I'm talking to you!"
"I don't owe you an explanation," Elina said quietly, her voice fraying at the edges. "Not today."
Her mother scoffed. "Excuse me? You disappear all day, come home like a ghost, and now you speak to me like this? Have you lost your mind?"
Elina's steps quickened, but Isabella followed like a shadow refusing to be shaken.
"You think you can just run off whenever you please?" Isabella snapped. "You have responsibilities, Elina. You're not a child anymore."
Elina stopped at the top of the stairs, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Slowly, she turned to face her mother. "Yes, I'm not a child, Mamma. But I'm not a pawn either."
The silence that followed was jagged.
Isabella's expression twisted. "Oh, so now you're a martyr? A rebel with a noble cause? Spare me the drama, Elina. You've had everything handed to you your entire life."
"You think this is about drama?" Elina's voice cracked. "You think I want this? That I chose any of this?"
"You could have had a normal life," Isabella hissed. "But no, you want to chase after those gutter children and your fantasy of playing saviour."
"They're not gutter children," Elina seethed. "They're human beings. They deserve better than being forgotten. Better than being looked down on by people like you."
Her mother's face hardened. "You've always been ungrateful. Always looking for a way to rebel, to embarrass your father and me in front of the families. Do you even realise what you're doing to us?"
"To you?" Elina let out a bitter, hollow laugh. "Everything's always about you, isn't it? Your image. Your pride. Your damn reputation."
Isabella's eyes narrowed, the sting in her daughter's voice landing like a slap.
"I raised you better than this," Isabella said, voice low and dangerous.
"No. You raised me to be obedient. To be silent. To be sold," Elina snapped. "But I'm done being a product of your plans."
"You'll understand one day," Isabella warned. "You'll understand that this is for your own good. That everything we do is to protect you."
Elina didn't speak. Her fists trembled at her sides, knuckles bone-white. Then she turned and ran to her room, locking the door behind her as if that flimsy barrier could shield her from the shame curdling inside her.
________________________________________
She locked the door behind her and pressed her back to it, as if the thin wood could keep everything out—her mother's voice, Adrian's smirk, her own disgust. Her legs gave way, and she slid down slowly, folding into herself on the cold floor.
It's done.
The words echoed like a final sentence.
I signed it. I gave him everything… my body, my silence, my freedom.
She swallowed hard, but it didn't ease the lump in her throat.
All for a dream no one but me believed in.
Her eyes moved to the framed picture on her nightstand—a crude crayon drawing from one of the orphanage kids. Stick figures, bright suns, messy hearts.
I hope you're proud of me. Because I sold myself so you could have crayons and clean beds.
A bitter laugh caught in her chest but didn't make it out.
And no one even knows. Not my mother. Not Rachel. No one knows what I've done.
Her fingers dug into her arms.
I hate him for making me do this.
A pause.
I hate myself more for agreeing.
________________________________________
The phone buzzed on her nightstand, the vibration cutting through the heavy silence like a blade.
Elina didn't want to answer it. But the name on the screen—Rachel—pulled at the fraying threads holding her together.
She reached out with shaking fingers and pressed accept.
"Hey," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Elina?" Rachel's voice was soft but sharp with worry. "God, finally. I've been calling you since morning. What happened? Did you talk to him?"
Elina's eyes closed.
Not 'him'. The devil in a three-piece suit.
She forced her voice to steady. "Yeah… I did."
Rachel exhaled slowly. "And? What did he say? Did you tell him you don't want this marriage?"
A beat of silence.
Elina pressed her lips together, tasting the lie before it left her tongue. "I… did. But things didn't go the way I hoped."
"Did he refuse to call it off?" Rachel's tone sharpened.
Elina let out a slow, controlled breath. "I told him I'd go through with it."
"What?" The word cracked through the line like lightning.
Rachel went quiet for a second. Too quiet.
"Elina… you were dead against this just last night. What changed? Did he threaten you?" Her voice dropped, low and serious. "Tell me the truth."
Elina shut her eyes.
Please don't push, Rach.
"No. No threats," she said calmly, her voice flat. "I just… realised maybe this is the only way out."
"Out of what? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Out of this pressure. My parents… this house… the expectations. I can't fight them all alone anymore."
"You're not alone," Rachel said immediately. "You have me. You have Jaxon. You know that, right?"
Elina swallowed hard. "I know."
"No, I mean it." Rachel's voice turned fierce. "If he's manipulating you, if there's something you're not telling me, you need to say it. Now. You don't sound like yourself, Elina."
She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream and tell her everything. About the contract. The terms. The price. But she couldn't.
He owns that silence too.
"I'm just tired," Elina said instead. "It's been a long day."
"Is he forcing you to marry him?"
"No. It's my choice," Elina said, the words tasting like ash.
Silence again.
Then, softer—gentler. "Okay. If that's really your choice, I'll support you. But I don't buy it, Elina. Not for a second."
Elina's fingers trembled around the phone.
Rachel continued, "I know you better than anyone. You don't give up like this. You don't break like this. What the hell did he do to you?"
Elina's lips parted, but the truth sat too heavy to speak.
"Rach," she whispered, "just… let it go. Please."
Then Rachel sighed. "I'll let it go for now. But if he ever—ever—does anything to hurt you, I swear to God, El, I'll drag Jaxon and a shotgun and we'll burn his mansion down."
A soft laugh escaped her lips. The first sound close to joy she'd made all day.
Rachel caught it and softened. "I mean it. I've got you. No matter what. Just remember that."
"I know." Elina's voice cracked again. "Thank you."
"You need to sleep. And eat. You sound like shit."
"Yeah. I will."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Rachel hesitated. "I love you, El."
"I love you too."
The line went dead. Elina placed the phone down, her fingers cold. The room stretched out in stillness again, but Rachel's words lingered—sharp, protective... and suspicious.
She wasn't just asking. She was feeling. And that terrified Elina more than anything.
Because if Rachel started digging… If she started asking the right questions… It wouldn't take her long to uncover the truth.
And if she got too close to the cracks… The contract wouldn't stay hidden for long.
________________________________________
The night was still, and the study in Adrian's penthouse smelled like old books, leather, and firewood. Adrian sat behind his desk, the contract laid flat before him, Elina's signature staring back at him like a trophy.
He dragged a finger over her name, slow, deliberate.
She fucking signed it. Fucking finally.
His jaw flexed, fingers curling tight over the contract.
She accepted the terms. Submission. Obedience. No questions. No escape. Now she'll learn what that means.
He stood slowly, slipped the contract into a drawer, and locked it. His jaw clenched, cock already hard just thinking about what her signature meant.
You're mine now, sweetheart. No more polite smiles. No more pretending. No more acting like you've still got dignity to protect. You gave that up the second you signed my contract, bitch.
He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing, heart pounding with dark anticipation. He'd take her in every way—against the wall, bent over his desk, tied to his bed, choking on his cock until her throat burned with him. She wouldn't be able to walk without remembering what he did to her. Wouldn't be able to close her legs without feeling empty.
How many cocks have you had, bitch? Mafia girl like you, born with a silver spoon, bet you've spread your legs for soft pretty boys with fast cars and fake promises. Let them touch that sweet cunt and tell you it was love. Fucking pathetic.
But it didn't matter. Whoever touched her before—he'd erase every trace. Every memory. Every goddamn moan they ever pulled from her lips.
You're gonna forget them all. I'll fuck it out of you.
His fist clenched.
You'll scream for me and only me. Cry for my cock like a needy little whore. And I won't stop—not until you know you belongs under me.
Adrian's jaw tightened, and a flicker of hunger burned in his eyes—violent and unforgiving.
He wanted her on her knees. Wanted her crying and begging under him, torn between hate and desire. He'd fuck that defiance out of her until all she could say would be his name—until even her tears would be soaked in his control.
Every inch of you belongs to me now.
He dragged in a slow breath, already imagining it—her soft body pinned beneath him, trembling, struggling, but unable to escape. Wrists bound, throat marked with his bites, lips swollen from his kisses and cries. He wouldn't be gentle. He wanted to ruin her. He wanted her spent.
"I'll fuck you until you forget who you were before me," he whispered to the empty room.
The thought alone made him hard.
I'm gonna stretch her open so wide, she won't be able to take another man after me. Her pussy's gonna know my cock. Every vein. Every thrust. Every brutal fucking inch.
He grinned, feral and unhinged.
She thinks this is marriage. Thinks she's securing help for her precious NPO dream? Stupid girl.
He'd fund her little fantasy. Let her play saint while he turned her into his perfect little fucktoy.
Go ahead, wear the dress. Get married. Play the pure, innocent bride. But when that dress comes off… I'll ruin you. Bend you over the bed. Hold you down. Fuck you until your voice goes hoarse and you can't even remember your own name—only mine.
Adrian… Adrian… Adrian… She's gonna beg for it. Beg for me. And when she cries?
He licked his bottom lip.
I'll fuck her harder.
She had no idea what she'd signed up for. No clue what kind of man she just handed herself to. But she'll learn.
And by the time he was done with her, Elina Castellano would never belong to anyone else.
________________________________________