Part 1

The city lights of New York flickered like broken stars through the rain-streaked window of my tiny apartment. I sat on the floor, knees pulled to my chest, staring at the final eviction notice crumpled in my hands. Beside me lay a stack of my mother’s unpaid medical bills.

They were a heavy reminder of my father’s debt. A debt I never asked for, but one I was forced to inherit.

A sharp knock at the door sent chills down my spine. My stomach dropped. I knew who it was. It was only a matter of time before the loan sharks my father owed came to collect.

Taking a deep, trembling breath, I opened the door.

Three men stood there. Their suits were sharp, but their eyes were deadly. Marco, the leader, smirked as he looked me up and down.

“Time’s up, sweetheart,” he sneered. “Five hundred grand. Right now.”

My stomach churned violently. “I… I don’t have it yet. Please, just give me more time.”

Marco chuckled, stepping uninvited into my sanctuary. “More time? Your old man ran out of time. And so have you.”

“I’ll pay it back!” I cried, my voice shaking.

Marco leaned in, his voice dripping with sick amusement. “You know there is another way.”

My breath hitched. I knew exactly what he meant. He expected me to sell myself to clear the ledger. But before I could scream, a deep, commanding voice interrupted from the hallway.

“You’re wasting your time, Marco.”

A figure emerged from the shadows. Ethan Blackwood. He was tall, impeccably dressed in a black Armani suit that cost more than my life, and radiated pure power. His piercing ice-blue eyes locked onto mine with an unreadable expression. Interest? Calculation? Danger?

Marco stiffened immediately. “Mr. Blackwood,” he stammered, his demeanor shifting to pure business.

My heart pounded against my ribs. Ethan Blackwood, the billionaire CEO? What the hell was he doing in my run-down building?

Ethan ignored Marco completely and stepped closer to me. The air in the room seemed to vanish.

“I own the debt now,” he stated calmly.

My blood ran cold. “What?”

“Your father borrowed money from people who had no business lending it,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but hard as steel. “I bought the debt before they could do something irreparable.”

I couldn’t process it. Why would a man like him care about a nobody like me?

Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. “You have two choices, Miss Miller. Either find half a million dollars by tomorrow, or…”

“Or what?” I whispered, fear gripping my throat.

A slow, dangerous smirk curved his lips. “Or you belong to me.”

I sat frozen. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do I look like a man who jokes?”

“Why?” I demanded, anger flashing through my panic. “Why would a billionaire care about my family’s debt?”

“I have my reasons,” he replied cryptically. “Do you accept?”

I looked at Marco, then at the eviction notice, then at my mother’s bills. I had no money. No escape. As much as I hated to admit it, this dangerous stranger was my only option.

I swallowed hard. “What do you want from me?”

Ethan leaned in, his scent intoxicating—dark, expensive, and dangerous. “For one month, you will be mine completely. You will stay in my penthouse. You will follow my rules.”

“And after one month?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

“You walk away, debt-free. Untouched, if that’s what you choose.”

But as I looked into his cold blue eyes, I knew it wouldn’t be that simple. I was signing my life away to the devil himself.

Part 2

The Cold Reality of Silence

Waking up wasn’t a slow, groggy process like it is on a Sunday morning. It was a violent snap back to reality. One second, there was darkness; the next, a throbbing pain in my temple that felt like someone was driving a railroad spike into my skull.

I groaned, trying to lift my hand to touch the sore spot, but I couldn’t. My wrists were bound tight behind my back with what felt like industrial zip ties. The plastic bit into my skin, sharp and unforgiving. The smell hit me next—damp concrete, rusted iron, and the salty, rotting scent of the nearby Hudson River.

I forced my eyes open. The room—if you could call it that—was a cavernous, abandoned warehouse. Moonlight filtered through shattered skylights high above, casting long, skeletal shadows across the floor. Dust motes danced in the pale beams, indifferent to the nightmare I was living.

“You’re awake.”

The voice was smooth, cultured, and terrifyingly calm. I jerked my head up, ignoring the wave of nausea that followed.

Nicholas Vale stood a few feet away, emerging from the shadows like a ghost. He was dressed immaculately, just like Ethan always was, but where Ethan’s presence felt like a storm—intense and electric—Vale’s felt like a black hole. It sucked the air out of the room.

“Where is he?” I rasped. My throat felt like I’d swallowed sandpaper.

Vale chuckled, a low, dry sound. He walked closer, the heels of his expensive Italian shoes clicking rhythmically against the concrete floor. “Straight to the point. I admire that. You know, most women in your position would be crying by now. Begging for their lives.”

“I’m not most women,” I spat back, channeling every ounce of the training Damian had drilled into me. Don’t show fear. Don’t hesitate.

“Clearly,” Vale mused. He dragged a metal folding chair over and sat directly in front of me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You’re Sophia Miller. Daughter of Arthur Miller. A man with a gambling addiction and a penchant for bad luck.”

My blood ran cold. “How do you know my father?”

“I know everything, Sophia. I know about the debt. I know about the loan sharks. And I know about the little… arrangement you have with Ethan Blackwood.” His eyes, pale and predatory, bored into mine. “Thirty days. A contract. It’s almost poetic, isn’t it? Sold by your father’s mistakes, bought by a billionaire’s ego.”

“He didn’t buy me,” I defended, though the words tasted like ash. “He saved me.”

Vale threw his head back and laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound. “Saved you? Oh, you poor, naive girl. Ethan Blackwood doesn’t save people. He collects them. He uses them. Do you really think he paid off your debt out of the kindness of his heart?”

“He did it because he could,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“He did it because you’re leverage,” Vale corrected, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Or maybe… maybe you’re just a replacement.”

I frowned. “Replacement?”

Vale stood up and began to pace around me. “You’ve met Isabella, I assume? And you know about his father?”

“I know you killed him,” I said.

Vale stopped dead in his tracks. He turned to face me, his expression unreadable. “Is that what he told you? That I pushed Jonathan off that roof?”

“He knows you did.”

“Ethan believes what he needs to believe to justify his own darkness,” Vale said, crouching down so we were eye-to-eye again. “Jonathan Blackwood and I were partners. Brothers, practically. But Jonathan grew soft. He wanted to get out of the game. He wanted to go legitimate. Do you have any idea how much money we would have lost?”

“So you m*rdered him for money,” I said with disgust.

“I did what was necessary for the empire,” Vale said coldly. “But Ethan… Ethan is different. He has his father’s morality but my ruthlessness. It’s a dangerous combination. He’s coming for me, Sophia. He’s been hunting me for seven years. And now, thanks to you, I finally have him exactly where I want him.”

“He won’t come,” I lied, though my heart was screaming that he would. “I’m just a debt to him. A contract. If he comes here, he knows it’s a trap.”

Vale smirked, checking his watch. “That’s the thing about Ethan. His pride is his weakness. He can’t let anything that belongs to him be taken. And make no mistake, Sophia—in his mind, you belong to him.”

He stood up and signaled to the shadows. Two guards stepped forward, heavily armed. “Make sure she’s comfortable,” Vale sneered. “Our guest of honor will be here soon.”

The Waiting Game

Time lost all meaning. It could have been an hour, or it could have been five. The cold seeped into my bones, making my teeth chatter uncontrollably. My mind started to wander to dark places.

I thought about my mom. If I died here, she would never know what happened. She’d think I ran away, or worse. She’d be left alone with her illness.

Then I thought about Ethan.

I thought about the way his eyes softened—just for a fraction of a second—when he told me I should have been “just a deal.” I thought about the kiss. It hadn’t been a kiss of lust; it was a kiss of desperation. A kiss of two people standing on the edge of a cliff, daring the wind to push them off.

Why did I stay? I asked myself. Why didn’t I take the money and run when Damian offered me an out with his eyes?

Because I was falling in love with him.

The realization hit me harder than the butt of the gun that had knocked me out. I was in love with a man who lived in a world of violence and shadows. A man who might get himself k*lled trying to save me.

“Focus, Sophia,” I whispered to myself. “Think. What did Damian teach you?”

Assess your surroundings. Concrete floor. Metal chair. Zip ties on wrists. Two guards by the south exit. Vale was gone, probably to the upper level to oversee the ambush.

Look for weaknesses. The guard on the left looked tired. He kept shifting his weight. The one on the right was scrolling on his phone, distracted.

Create an opportunity. I couldn’t fight them. Not bound like this. I needed my hands free. I began to twist my wrists, ignoring the searing pain as the plastic dug into my skin. I rubbed the zip tie against the sharp metal bolt on the back of the chair. It was slow work, agonizingly slow. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Suddenly, the guard on the right looked up. “Hey! Quit moving around.”

I froze. “I have a cramp,” I said, putting on my most pathetic, scared-girl voice. “Please. It hurts.”

He rolled his eyes. “Sucks to be you.”

He went back to his phone. I exhaled and went back to work. Scratch. Scratch.

Then, the lights cut out.

The Storm Arrives

The warehouse plunged into absolute darkness. The guards shouted, their flashlights clicking on, beams cutting through the dusty air wildly.

“What’s going on?” one yelled. “Check the breaker!” the other screamed.

Crash.

The skylight above us shattered inward. Glass rained down like diamonds. Two dark shapes descended on ropes, moving with the speed and silence of spiders.

Before the guards could even raise their weapons, the intruders were on them. It wasn’t a fight; it was an execution of skill. I heard the sickening sounds of impact, groans, and then the thud of bodies hitting the floor.

“Clear,” a voice whispered. A voice I knew.

“Damian?” I whispered into the dark.

A tactical light blinded me for a second, then clicked off. “Eyes forward, Princess,” Damian growled, appearing beside me. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He pulled a massive knife from his vest and sliced through my zip ties in one motion.

“Can you move?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, rubbing my raw wrists. “Where is he?”

“Drawing their fire,” Damian said, pulling me up. He pressed a heavy pistol into my hand. “Do you remember how to use this?”

“Point. Aim. Fire,” I recited, my hands shaking only slightly.

“Safety off,” he corrected, flipping the switch on the side of the gun. “Stay behind me. We move fast.”

“Where is Ethan?” I demanded, planting my feet.

Damian looked at me, his eyes serious under the tactical gear. “He went to the roof. He’s going after Vale.”

My heart stopped. “Vale is waiting for him! It’s a trap!”

“We know,” Damian said. “That’s why we’re here. Now move!”

We sprinted toward the exit, but the warehouse doors slammed shut with a metallic boom. Floodlights from the catwalks above blinded us.

“Leaving so soon?” Vale’s voice boomed over a PA system. “The party hasn’t even started.”

From the shadows of the upper gantries, muzzle flashes erupted. Bullets sparked against the concrete inches from my feet.

“Cover!” Damian roared, tackling me behind a stack of shipping crates.

The sound of gunfire was deafening. It wasn’t like the movies. It was loud, chaotic, and terrifying. Wood splintered above my head as bullets shredded our cover.

“We’re pinned down!” Damian shouted into his earpiece. “Ethan, we’re stuck on the ground floor! Sector 4!”

There was no response.

“Ethan!” Damian yelled again.

Static.

My stomach dropped. “Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Damian snapped, reloading his weapon with practiced ease. “He’s Blackwood. He’s too stubborn to die. But we need to move. These crates won’t hold forever.”

I peered around the edge of the crate. I could see three shooters on the catwalk. They had the high ground. We were sitting ducks.

I looked at the gun in my hand. It felt heavy, cold, and real.

“Damian,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I can take the one on the left.”

Damian looked at me like I was insane. “You missed half the targets in training.”

“I got better,” I quoted Ethan. “If I suppress the left, can you take the other two?”

Damian studied me for a split second, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You really are crazy. Okay. On three. You pop out, fire three rounds, and get back down. Do not be a hero. Understand?”

“Understood.”

“One… Two… Three!”

I spun out from behind the crate. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would explode. I locked my eyes on the muzzle flash to the left. I didn’t think. I just acted.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The recoil jarred my shoulder. I didn’t see if I hit him, but the gunfire from that direction stopped.

“Got him!” Damian yelled. He popped up, firing two precise shots. The other two shooters crumpled.

“Go! Go! Go!”

We scrambled across the open floor toward the stairwell. My lungs burned, my legs felt like jelly, but adrenaline pushed me forward. We reached the heavy steel door of the stairwell just as a new wave of bullets chewed up the ground where we had been standing.

Damian kicked the door open, and we spilled into the stairwell.

“We’re going up,” Damian said, checking his ammo. “Ethan is on the roof. That’s where Vale is.”

“I’m coming with you,” I said.

Damian didn’t argue this time. He just nodded. “Stay low. Shoot anything that isn’t me or Ethan.”

We began the climb. Every step took us closer to the sky, closer to the rain, and closer to the man I loved—who was walking straight into the devil’s jaws.

Part 3

The Rooftop of Hell

The rain had turned into a torrential downpour. When we burst onto the roof, the wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes. The city of New York lay sprawled out around us, a grid of indifferent lights, miles away from the brutal violence unfolding atop this abandoned factory.

And there he was.

Ethan Blackwood stood in the center of the roof, illuminated by the erratic flashes of lightning. He had discarded his jacket. His white dress shirt was soaked, clinging to his chest, stained with dirt and… was that blood?

Facing him, near the edge of the roof, was Nicholas Vale.

Vale held a gun, but he wasn’t pointing it at Ethan. He was pointing it at the ground, smiling. It was the smile of a man who had already won.

“You’re predictable, Ethan!” Vale shouted over the roar of the wind. “I knew you’d come alone to the top.”

“I’m here, Nicholas,” Ethan’s voice carried through the storm, low and lethal. “Let’s finish this.”

“Oh, we will,” Vale sneered.

Damian and I were hidden behind a large ventilation unit about fifty feet away. Damian raised his rifle, aiming at Vale.

“I have the shot,” Damian whispered into his comms. “Ethan, say the word.”

Ethan raised his hand slightly—a signal. Hold.

“Why is he waiting?” I hissed.

“Because Vale isn’t alone,” Damian noted grimly.

As if on cue, four more men stepped out from the shadows behind Vale, their weapons trained on Ethan.

“You brought an audience,” Ethan said, unbothered.

“I brought a firing squad,” Vale corrected. “You see, Ethan, I’m a businessman. I don’t take risks. I don’t fight fair. I eliminate competition.”

Vale raised his gun, aiming directly at Ethan’s chest.

“NO!” I screamed.

I broke cover. It was the stupidest thing I could have done, but the thought of seeing Ethan die tore logic straight out of my brain.

“Sophia!” Damian shouted, grabbing for me, but I was already running.

Ethan’s head snapped toward me, his eyes widening in horror. “Sophia, stay back!”

Vale’s eyes lit up with delight. He swung his gun from Ethan to me.

“Well, well,” Vale laughed. “The reunion is complete.”

I skid to a halt, the gun in my hand shaking. I was out in the open. No cover. Just me, the rain, and five men who wanted us dead.

“Let her go, Nicholas,” Ethan growled, taking a step forward. The playfulness was gone from his face. He looked like a demon unchained. “This is between us.”

“It’s all connected, Ethan!” Vale yelled. “She is your weakness. Just like your father’s morality was his.”

Vale grabbed me before I could fire, his arm wrapping around my neck, crushing my windpipe. He dragged me back toward the ledge. I clawed at his arm, gasping for air. The gun was knocked from my hand and skittered across the wet roof.

“Drop your weapon, Blackwood!” Vale screamed, pressing the cold barrel of his gun against my temple. “Drop it, or I paint the roof with her brains!”

Ethan froze. The rain plastered his hair to his forehead. I could see the agony in his eyes. He slowly, agonizingly, lowered his gun.

“Don’t do it, Ethan,” I choked out. “He’ll kill us anyway.”

“Silence!” Vale pistol-whipped the side of my head. Stars exploded in my vision. I sagged in his grip, my knees hitting the wet gravel.

“Kick it away!” Vale commanded.

Ethan kicked his gun across the roof. It slid into the darkness.

“Now,” Vale grinned, tightening his grip on me. “Kneel.”

Ethan Blackwood, the billionaire, the king of New York, the man who answered to no one… slowly sank to his knees in the mud and rain.

“Please,” Ethan said. The word sounded foreign coming from him. “Let her go. Take me. I’m the one you want.”

“I want you to suffer,” Vale hissed. “I want you to watch her die, just so you know you failed. Just like your father failed.”

Vale’s finger tightened on the trigger. I squeezed my eyes shut. I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, Ethan.

CLICK.

The sound was louder than thunder.

Vale frowned, looking at his gun. A misfire? A jam?

In that microsecond of confusion, Damian took the shot.

CRACK.

The bullet didn’t hit Vale; the wind was too strong, or Damian didn’t want to risk hitting me. Instead, the bullet struck the concrete inches from Vale’s foot, sending shrapnel into his leg.

Vale screamed, his grip loosening just enough.

Lesson one: You hesitate, you die.

I didn’t hesitate. I threw my head back, smashing it into Vale’s nose. I felt the cartilage crunch. He howled in pain and stumbled back toward the edge.

“Ethan!” I screamed, diving to the ground.

Ethan was already moving. He lunged forward, tackling Vale just as the other guards opened fire.

Chaos erupted.

Damian was firing from the ventilation unit, dropping one guard. Ethan and Vale were rolling on the ground, a tangle of limbs and fury. They were dangerously close to the edge—a twenty-story drop to the unforgiving pavement below.

I scrambled on my hands and knees toward Ethan’s discarded gun. Bullets pinged around me. I grabbed the cold metal, rolled onto my back, and aimed.

One guard was rushing toward Ethan, a knife drawn.

Point. Aim. Fire.

I pulled the trigger. The guard dropped, clutching his thigh.

I looked toward the edge. Ethan had Vale pinned down. Vale’s face was a mask of blood and rage. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a hidden knife.

“Ethan, look out!”

Ethan saw the glint of steel. He caught Vale’s wrist just as the blade descended toward his throat. They strained against each other, muscles trembling.

“You can’t win, Ethan!” Vale spat, blood bubbling from his lips. “You’re just like your father! Weak!”

“My father wasn’t weak,” Ethan gritted out, forcing the knife back. “He was a good man. Something you’ll never be.”

With a roar of effort, Ethan twisted Vale’s wrist. The knife fell. Ethan delivered a brutal right hook to Vale’s jaw, then another, and another. Years of anger, years of grief, pouring out in every strike.

Vale went limp.

Ethan stood up, breathing heavily, rain dripping from his nose. He looked down at the man who had destroyed his family. He could kill him. He could end it right here.

I scrambled to my feet and ran to him. “Ethan!”

He turned to me, his chest heaving. His eyes were wild, dilated. But when he saw me, they softened.

“Sophia,” he breathed.

But the nightmare wasn’t over.

From the ground, a broken, bloody Nicholas Vale laughed. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small remote.

“If I go…” Vale wheezed, “we all go.”

He pressed the button.

BOOM.

An explosion rocked the far side of the roof. The structural supports groaned. The roof beneath us tilted violently.

“Run!” Ethan screamed.

He grabbed my hand, and we sprinted toward the stairwell door. The roof was collapsing behind us, chunks of concrete falling into the fiery abyss below. Vale screamed as the section of the roof he was lying on gave way, sliding him off into the darkness of the city.

We didn’t look back.

We reached the door just as another explosion shook the building. Ethan threw me through the doorway and dove on top of me, shielding my body with his.

Debris rained down. Heat seared my skin. The world went white.

And then… silence.

The Sacrifice

I coughed, waving away the thick dust. “Ethan?”

He was heavy on top of me. Too heavy.

“Ethan?” I pushed him, panic rising in my throat. “Ethan, we have to move!”

He groaned, rolling off me. “I’m… I’m okay.”

But he wasn’t.

As he sat up, I saw it. A jagged piece of rebar, blown from the explosion, was protruding from his left shoulder. Blood was soaking his white shirt, turning it a deep, terrifying crimson.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, my hands hovering over the wound.

“It’s fine,” he gritted out, his face pale. “Missed the artery. I think.”

“You’re bleeding out!”

“Sophia,” he grabbed my hand with his good arm. His grip was weak. “Listen to me. Damian is coming. You need to… get out.”

“I am not leaving you!” I cried, tears mixing with the dust on my face. “I told you, I’m staying!”

He managed a weak, pained smile. “Stubborn… woman.”

His eyes rolled back, and he slumped against the wall.

“Ethan! Ethan, stay with me!” I slapped his cheek gently. “Ethan, please! Don’t you dare die on me! You own my debt, remember? You can’t collect if you’re dead!”

“Still… negotiating?” he mumbled, his voice fading.

The door below us burst open. Damian appeared, looking battered but alive. He saw us and his face went pale.

“Medic!” Damian screamed into his radio. “Get the chopper! We have a man down! I repeat, Blackwood is down!”

I pulled Ethan’s head into my lap, stroking his wet hair. “Hold on, Ethan. Please hold on.”

The sirens wailed in the distance, closer now. But all I could hear was the ragged, slowing rhythm of his breathing.

Part 4

The White Room

Hospitals have a specific smell. Antiseptic, floor wax, and fear.

I sat in the waiting room of Lenox Hill Hospital, staring at my hands. They were scrubbed clean, but I could still feel the phantom sensation of gunpowder and grit. I was wearing oversized scrubs a nurse had given me because my clothes had been torn and bloodied.

It had been six hours.

Six hours of surgery. Six hours of not knowing if the man who had turned my life upside down was going to survive.

Isabella was there. She was pacing back and forth, talking furiously on her phone, managing the press, managing the board of directors, managing the crisis. She stopped in front of me.

“He’s strong,” she said, her voice lacking its usual bite. “He’s survived worse.”

I looked up at her. “He took a bullet for me. And then shrapnel.”

Isabella sighed, sitting down next to me. “He loves you, you know. I haven’t seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Not even me. And we were engaged.”

“I… I don’t know what we are,” I admitted. “I’m just a contract.”

“Honey,” Isabella laughed dryly. “If you think you’re still just a contract, you’re blinder than he is.”

The double doors swung open. A surgeon in blue scrubs stepped out, pulling down his mask. He looked exhausted.

Damian, who had been standing like a statue by the door, stepped forward. “Report.”

“He’s stable,” the doctor said.

I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding since the rooftop. A sob escaped my throat.

“The damage to the shoulder was severe,” the doctor continued. “He lost a lot of blood. But the rebar missed the lung and the major arteries by millimeters. He’s incredibly lucky. He’s in recovery now. He’ll be waking up soon.”

The Contract

I walked into his private room quietly. The machines beeped rhythmically—a comforting sound now, proof of life.

Ethan lay in the bed, looking paler than the sheets. His shoulder was heavily bandaged, and an IV line ran into his arm. But he was awake. His blue eyes, tired and clouded with pain, tracked me as I entered.

“You look terrible,” he rasped.

I laughed, a watery, choked sound. “You should see the other guy.”

“I heard,” Ethan tried to smirk, but winced. “Vale is… gone.”

“They found his body?”

“Whatever was left of it,” Ethan closed his eyes for a moment. “It’s over, Sophia. My father can rest.”

I walked to the side of the bed and took his hand. It was warm. “You scared me, Ethan. You really scared me.”

“I’m hard to kill,” he murmured.

Silence stretched between us, but it wasn’t the tense silence of the penthouse. It was heavy with unspoken words.

“Sophia,” he said, his voice serious. “Open the drawer on the nightstand.”

I frowned but did as he asked. Inside was a leather folder.

“Take it out.”

I pulled it out. It was the contract. The paper that said I belonged to him for 30 days.

“Tear it up,” he said.

I froze. “What?”

“The debt is paid,” Ethan said, looking straight at me. “You paid it on that roof. You saved my life. We’re even. Actually, I think I owe you.”

“Ethan…”

“You’re free, Sophia. No more rules. No more penthouse prison. Your mother’s bills are covered. Forever. You can go back to your life.”

I looked down at the paper. This was it. My freedom. I could walk out that door and never look back. I could go back to being Sophia Miller, the girl who worried about rent and groceries, but who was safe.

I looked at the contract. Then I looked at Ethan.

He was watching me with a guarded expression, waiting for me to leave. He expected me to leave. Everyone in his life probably left eventually.

Slowly, deliberately, I ripped the contract in half.

Then in half again.

I dropped the confetti of paper into the trash can next to the bed.

“You’re right,” I said. “The contract is over.”

Ethan looked away, his jaw tightening. “Damian will have a car ready for you downstairs.”

“I’m not done,” I said.

He looked back, confused.

I stepped closer to the bed, leaning over him. “The contract is over. Which means I’m not here because I have to be.”

I brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“I’m here because I want to be.”

Ethan’s eyes searched mine, looking for a lie. “Sophia, my world… it’s dangerous. You saw that. It’s ugly.”

“I saw a man who walked into fire for me,” I whispered. “I saw a man who isn’t as cold as he pretends to be.”

“I can’t promise you safety,” he said roughly. “I can only promise you…”

“Me?” I asked.

He reached up with his good hand, cupping my cheek. “Everything. I can promise you everything I have. Every breath. Every day.”

“That sounds like a new deal,” I smiled, tears spilling over.

“Negotiating again?” he teased softly.

“Always.”

He pulled me down gently. This kiss wasn’t desperate like the one in the apartment, or frantic like the one before the battle. It was slow. It was tender. It was a promise.

Epilogue: A New Dawn

Thirty days later.

The view from the penthouse was different now. It didn’t look like a cage anymore. It looked like a kingdom.

I stood on the balcony, coffee in hand, watching the sunrise over Manhattan. My phone buzzed. A text from my mom: Doctor says the new treatment is working! Can’t wait to see you Sunday.

I smiled, slipping the phone into my pocket.

Strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Ethan rested his chin on my shoulder. His arm was still in a sling, but he was healing fast.

“Thinking about running away?” he murmured against my ear.

I leaned back into him. “Not a chance. I’ve got too much invested in the management here.”

Ethan chuckled, kissing the side of my neck. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm. Someone has to keep you out of trouble, Mr. Blackwood.”

“I think trouble likes us, Mrs. Blackwood… to be.”

I spun around in his arms, eyes wide. “What did you say?”

Ethan smirked, that dangerous, arrogant, beautiful smirk that I had fallen in love with. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

“I told you,” he whispered, opening it to reveal a diamond that rivaled the city lights. “I don’t do things halfway. You belong to me, Sophia. And I belong to you.”

The city woke up below us, loud and chaotic and alive. But up here, in our world, everything was perfect.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I accept.”

The debt was gone. The contract was dust. But the story? Our story was just beginning.