Chapter 4

Isla paced her tiny apartment, her fingers gripping the contract so tightly the edges crumpled.

The words stared back at her, unyielding, suffocating.

One year of marriage.

Public appearances required.

Failure to comply will result in immediate financial consequences.

A beautifully wrapped prison.

Her stomach churned.

She had come to Adrian Sinclair today expecting a business deal. A fucking simple buyout. Heck, a check, something would have sufficed. Instead, she had walked away with a goddamn marriage proposal.

Not even a real one.

A transaction. A contractual obligation designed to benefit him in some twisted way she hadn't even figured out yet.

She gritted her teeth, torn between fury and panic.

How had her life spiraled into this?

Just yesterday, she had been celebrating her little win, and manifesting her business, and then in the next instance, she was scrambling to save her mother's boutique. Today, she was being blackmailed into marriage.

By Adrain Sinclair.

Who would have thought, that the no 1 eligible bachelor, known for his ruthless business explouits, would ask her, a nobody, to be his wife.

Up until today, he hadn't even known she existed?

A thought crossed her mind.

What if ithad been her mother who had come for the loan? Would his reaction have been the sama?

KNowing his reputation, she was sure her mother wouldn't have had the luck to cross the door of his office, let alone speak to him.

But what if_no, she was done with what ifs.

She dropped onto her couch, her heart pounding.

There had to be another way.

She just had to find it.

The next morning Isla awoke with renewed determination.

Maybe, just maybe she would be so lucky today and get to the damn buttom of this issue. No way was he giving in like that.

Which was why she was now storming into the bank, her hands shaking as she approached the branch manager's desk.

"Mr. Carlton," she said breathlessly. "I need to speak with you about my mother's loan. There's been a… misunderstanding."

Maybe there was a chance that what Adrain had said about buying out the loan the previous day, was not true.

Mr. Carlton, a stiff man in his sixties, barely glanced up from his computer. A move that annoyed Isla, but she didn't care at the moment. What she needed was answers, and she was going to get it. "Miss Monroe, I assume this is about the recent ownership transfer."

Her stomach dropped. "So it's true?"

Fucking helll!

The man hadn't been bluffing afterall.

"Sinclair Enterprises now owns your debt," he confirmed, finally looking at her. "As of yesterday afternoon, your repayment terms are entirely in their hands."

A lump formed in her throat.

Adrian hadn't been bluffing.

Her last chance, her last option, was gone.

Carlton studied her with vague pity. "You should speak with Mr. Sinclair."

Like he needed to state the obvious.

If only he knew that she had done that already, but had somehow ended up in bigger trouble.

She let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, I did."

And that conversation had ended with a contract and a diamond-studded cage.

But he didn't neede to know the details.

Panic clawed up her throat as she stepped back.

Isla turned around slowly, making her way towards the exit of the bank with scenarios and plans forming in her head. She didn't even notice when sh ealmost ran into a woman, and definitely didn't hear the woman curse at her.

Her mind was occupied, and right now, she couldn't even care about her surroundings.

She had one last move left.

If she couldn't outmanoeuvre Adrian Sinclair in his own game, she could at least run.

~

Night couldn't have come qucker.

She had spent the whole day plotting and had intentionally come back in, late.

Isla shoved the last of her clothes into a worn duffel bag, her hands trembling.

Running wasn't smart, but she wasn't going to sit here and let Adrian Sinclair pull her strings like a damn puppet.

She'd start over. Find a new job in another city.

Never in her life had she run away.

And never in a million yeears would she have thought that she would be running away, and definitely not for the reason she was running for.

Anything was better than this.

She zipped up the bag and swung it over her shoulder, heading for the door, and froze.

A dark figure leaned against the frame, arms crossed, exuding effortless power.

Adrian.

Her breath caught. "What the hell—"

When had he come in? How the heck had he even let himslef in?

How had she not heard him?

"You didn't think I'd let you run, did you?" His voice was cool, amused, completely unbothered.

Her pulse thundered. "How did you—"

He tilted his head. "Your bank records. Your spending history. Your pathetic attempt to withdraw everything from your account today."

Her blood turned ice-cold.

"You had me followed?"

Wasn't that a damn breach of her privacy?

Who the heck did he think he was, spying on her like that?

Adrian's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "No, Miss Monroe. I had you watched."

Fury shot through her. "You have no right—"

"I have every right." Adrain interrupted her abruptly, and stepped forward, his broad shoulders blocking the only exit. "You made a deal the second you walked into my office."

Her breath hitched as he reached for her bag and ripped it from her grip effortlessly. The sound as it his the floor, made her flinch.

"You're not running," he murmured, voice surprisingly soft, but she wasn't buying it. "You're not leaving. And you are certainly not breaking our agreement before it's even begun."

Her hands balled into fists. "I never agreed to anything."

He exhaled, almost as if she was exhausting him. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen once, and turned it to face her.

Her bank account.

The balance? Zero.

Her stomach dropped.

"What did you do?" she whispered.

Adrian tucked his phone away. "I froze your accounts."

Isla stumbled back, her heart hammering in panic.

"You… you can't just do that," she choked out. "You can't just take control of my life like that! This is fucking blackmail!"

"I can." He took another step forward, his height utterly overwhelming. "And I did."

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. "You're a monster."

He chuckled. "I'm a businessman."

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension.

Adrian's voice softened, dangerously low.

"You have no money. No options. And in a few days, no home." He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Your only chance to survive this is me."

A sharp tremor ran through her body.

Her freedom was gone.

Her pride was gone.

And Adrian Sinclair knew it.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a pen, and handed it to her.

"Sign the contract."

Isla stared at the cold ink, the gleaming black folder.

If she signed it, she was walking into a life that wasn't hers.

If she didn't, she was walking into ruin.

Her fingers trembled as she took the pen.

Adrian's gaze never wavered.

And with one shaky breath, Isla signed away her freedom.