Chapter 5 The Heir's Terms

The ink on the marriage contract was barely dry, but the atmosphere in the Vane Estate had already shifted from a cold, silent museum to a tactical battlefield. Elara felt the unfamiliar weight of the heavy gold band Silas had shoved onto her finger-a "placeholder," he had called it, though it likely cost more than her entire hometown in Oregon. It felt less like jewellery and more like a shackle.

"Congratulations, Mrs Vane," Silas said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated in the small space between them. He pulled the document away, his eyes scanning the signatures with the cold, clinical satisfaction of a man who had just closed a multi-billion-pound merger. "You've just become the most powerful woman in Seattle."

"I don't feel powerful," Elara whispered, her hand still trembling as she dropped the heavy fountain pen onto the mahogany desk. "I feel like a prisoner who just signed away her own soul."

"A prisoner in a castle with a moat!" Leo reminded her, tugging insistently on her sleeve. He looked up at Silas with wide, expectant eyes, his fear of the "big man" seemingly vanished in the face of potential reptiles. "When do the alligators arrive? And I want the nuggets now. The ninja mission made me super hungry."

Silas sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a weary frustration. He looked like a man beginning to realise that "owning" a family was significantly more complex than owning an international tech firm. He picked up his phone, his thumb hovering over a contact.

"Arthur? Order a... Happy Meal. Actually, order ten. I don't want to risk him being 'super hungry' again. And look into the legality of keeping dwarf caimans in a residential water feature. Check the zoning laws for the Puget Sound."

"Yes, Mr Vane," his assistant's voice crackled through the speaker, sounding utterly bewildered. "Should I... should I also look for a dinosaur-shaped bed, sir? The bespoke furniture designers in Milan are on standby."

"Just get the food, Arthur," Silas growled, snapping the phone shut before the man could ask about dinosaur-themed wallpaper.

...

The First Dinner

An hour later, the grand dining room-a space usually reserved for visiting ambassadors and Fortune 500 CEOs-was host to a scene of absolute carnage. Silas sat at the head of the table, his silk tie loosened for the first time in years, watching in horrified fascination as Leo dipped a chicken nugget into a puddle of honey, then wiped his sticky fingers directly onto the pristine white linen tablecloth.

"That is Egyptian cotton, Leo," Silas noted, his eye twitching as a yellow smudge of mustard joined the honey streak. "It has a thread count higher than your current IQ."

"It's soft," Leo replied simply, taking a huge, unapologetic bite. "Why aren't you eating, Daddy? Mommy says you have to eat your protein or your brain turns into mush."

The word 'Daddy' hit the room like a physical shockwave.

The silence that followed was heavy enough to suffocate. Silas froze, his silver fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at Leo, then at Elara, his expression unreadable behind a mask of sudden, raw vulnerability. It was the first time Elara had seen the 'Ice King' look genuinely shaken, the air around him crackling with an emotion he clearly didn't have a label for.

"I am not-" Silas started, but the words died in his throat. He had forced this. He had demanded the bloodline. He had signed the papers. Now, he had to live with the weight of the title. "My brain is quite firm, thank you. And I believe I have had enough... protein for one evening."

"Eat your nuggets," Leo commanded, sliding the red cardboard box toward him with the authority of a tiny general. "Ninjas share their loot. It's the code."

Silas looked at the greasy box as if it were a high-yield explosive. Then, with a sigh that suggested he was surrendering his last shred of dignity, he reached in, took a nugget, and ate it under Leo's watchful, grey gaze.

"Satisfied?" Silas asked, dabbing his mouth with a silk napkin.

"It needs more honey," Leo decided, already moving on to his next target.

Elara watched them, her heart aching with a confusing, volatile mix of resentment and warmth. Seeing the most feared man in the Pacific Northwest being bullied by a four-year-old in dinosaur pyjamas was surreal. But the way Silas looked at the boy when Leo wasn't looking-with a mixture of awe and a terrifying, dark possessiveness-reminded her that this wasn't a game. He wasn't just playing house; he was claiming his empire.

...

The Standoff

"I need to put him to bed," Elara said, standing up and breaking the strange spell that had settled over the table. "The 'ninja' is clearly running out of steam."

"I'll have Mrs Gable prepare the guest suite in the north wing for him," Silas said, standing as well. His shadow stretched long across the room, instantly reclaiming his dominance. "And then, Elara, we need to discuss the... sleeping arrangements."

Elara's breath hitched. "This contract says 'united front,' Silas. It doesn't say I have to share your bed. We are business partners, nothing more."

Silas walked around the table, his movements slow, deliberate, and predatory. He stopped just inches from her, the scent of cedarwood and expensive scotch drowning out the lingering smell of fast food.

"The world needs to believe we are a devoted couple, Elara. My enemies are already circling, looking for a crack in the armour. If my staff sees the new Mrs Vane sleeping in the servant's wing or a guest room, the rumours will start by dawn. And in my world, a rumour of weakness is as deadly as a bullet."

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that made the fine hairs on her arms stand up.

"You signed the papers. You live in my house. My bedroom is the only one equipped with the biometric security necessary to protect the mother of my heir. You will sleep where I can see you."

"I'll sleep on the sofa," she defied, her chin lifting even as her heart hammered against her ribs.

Silas leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of her ear. "There is no sofa in my room, Elara. Only a king-sized bed. I suggest you get used to the idea of sharing space. I don't plan on being a husband in name only for very long. I always collect on my debts."

Leo let out a loud, dramatic yawn from the doorway, oblivious to the electric tension. "Mommy? Can the alligators sleep in my room? I want them to guard my Lego castle."

"No," Silas and Elara said in perfect, panicked unison.

As Elara led Leo toward the grand staircase, she felt Silas's gaze burning into her back, possessive and unwavering. She had traded her freedom for her son's future, but as she looked at the heavy gold ring on her finger, she realised the 'King's Gambit' had only just begun. She wasn't just his chef or his secret anymore. She was his wife.

And Silas Vane was a man who never left a contract unfulfilled.