Chapter 3

The silence that followed his words was heavier than steel.

“The door is that way. If you want an escort, I can call my security team.”

His voice was cold, his warning sharper than glass.

Her pride snapped in half. No one had ever dared reject her—much less humiliate her so openly. Heat burned her cheeks as her hands clenched into fists.

“Fine!” she hissed. She spun on her heel, storming toward the door. The hinges shrieked as she flung it open. “You’ll regret this, Caius!”

The slam echoed like thunder.

Caius finally lifted his gaze from the desk, his eyes dark and unreadable. Luciano stood near the doorway, unfazed by the outburst, his calmness only accentuating the chaos that lingered in the air. Beside him was a young woman Caius immediately recognized.

Noelle.

Her body stiffened the moment his piercing eyes landed on her. She swallowed hard, the lump in her throat nearly choking her. She hadn’t meant to walk in on his storm of rejection, but now there was no escaping his gaze.

Her instincts screamed at her to turn and run. This man radiated danger. He looked every bit the predator people whispered about. This is a bad idea, she thought, her palms damp with sweat. I should leave. I should run. But…

Her brother’s face came to mind, frail and pale in a hospital bed, tubes keeping him alive. His surgery. The mounting bills. Her empty pockets.

She drew in a shaky breath, steeling herself. I can’t afford to walk away. Not this time.

Luciano cleared his throat, breaking the thick silence. “Sir, I’ve brought Miss Marshall. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.”

Noelle’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. Leave? You’re leaving me with him?! Panic welled in her chest as she looked at Luciano, silently begging him not to abandon her in this suffocating office.

But Luciano only gave her a small, encouraging smile.

Her face twitched. I wasn’t asking for encouragement, damn it!

She wanted to cry, but her face remained composed. She had learned long ago never to show weakness.

“Alright,” Caius said with a curt nod, dismissing Luciano.

The click of the door shutting behind him felt like the lock of a prison cell. Noelle’s heart hammered, her body frozen.

Caius’s voice cut through the silence. “Sit down. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

He didn’t try to soften his tone. He didn’t need to. His aura commanded obedience.

Noelle sat quickly, trying to hide the trembling in her hands.

“Your brother’s medical bills cost you around two thousand dollars every month,” he began without preamble. His words were sharp, deliberate, and merciless.

Her face paled. He was peeling back her life as if it were a file on his desk.

“The Rosetti family, whom you owe money, charges you thirty percent interest.”

His tone was flat, but each fact he laid out cut into her like a blade.

“At this rate, you’ll spend the rest of your life drowning in debt. You won’t make it out.”

Her hands curled together on her lap, knuckles whitening. Every word was the truth. Brutal, unvarnished truth. There was no defense. No excuse. Just a suffocating weight of reality pressing down on her chest.

She forced herself to look up, her voice quiet but firm. “I’m well aware of my financial troubles, sir. So please—get to the point.”

Caius’s eyes narrowed, his gaze like a predator appraising prey. For a heartbeat, she swore she could feel the sharp edge of his aura press against her skin, suffocating her. Then, just as suddenly, it dissipated.

“Impatient, are you?” His lips twitched, almost into a smirk.

She steadied her voice, meeting his eyes. “No. Just saving us both time.”

His brows lifted, ever so slightly. Few dared to talk back to him. He let his expression fall back into indifference.

“Feisty,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on her longer than she liked.

“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replied smoothly, though her pulse was racing.

He studied her in silence, noting the strange contradiction in her demeanor. For a woman with debt shackled to her throat, she carried herself with startling composure.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Back to the matter at hand. I’m offering you a solution.”

He slid a contract across the desk, the crisp shuffle of paper loud in the quiet room.

Her eyes widened as they scanned the words. “This is—”

“Three years,” he interrupted. “You’ll become my wife. Share my bed. Care for my daughter. In return, your brother will be treated in the best hospital available. His life guaranteed. Your debts erased. You will live in my mansion, and my wealth will be at your disposal.”

His voice was calm, detached, but his gaze sharpened as he continued.

“And if my daughter accepts you after three years, the contract extends until she turns eighteen. If not…” His eyes locked on hers, unyielding. “You’ll leave with enough money to start over—wherever you choose.”

Her throat went dry. His terms were clear. Too clear.

But his expression shifted as he spoke again, his tone cutting colder than ice.

“Know this—my late wife’s pictures remain on the walls. Her memory remains untouched. You are not her replacement. Pearl had a mother—perfect, beautiful, irreplaceable. You will not be her mother. You will be her stability. Nothing more.”

For the first time, she saw a flicker of something raw beneath his mask—grief, sharp and unhealed. She didn’t dare question it.

Her hands tightened in her lap as she weighed his words. It was a deal wrapped in chains, but it was salvation all the same.

Still… one thought nagged at her.

“Why a wife?” she asked carefully. “Why not just hire me as her nanny?”

He didn’t hesitate. “A nanny has boundaries. Distance. My daughter doesn’t need an employee. She needs someone with the freedom to be close to her. As my wife, you’ll have that freedom.”

The logic was brutal, but it made sense. She nodded. “I understand.”

Her mind whirred. Then, a thought struck her. Her lips quirked faintly.

“You said earlier… as your wife, I’d have access to your money?”

“Yes,” he replied flatly. “What’s mine is yours.”

Her head bobbed quickly. “Okay. I agree.”

For the first time, his composure slipped. His brows rose, surprise flickering across his face.

“That’s… faster than I expected,” he murmured.

Inside, he mused to himself. At least she’s honest.

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