Chapter 4 Terms and conditions

Seraphina pulse drummed in her ears as she say stiffly across Lysander Duvall in the opulent office,her gaze fixed on the crisp contract before her. The thick paper was heavy beneath her fingertips,the ink bold and unyielding.A contract.A deal.A transactions.

Nothing about it resemble marriage.

Just her signature on the paper would change a lot.

She had known what she was getting into when she walked into this room.Or at least she thought she had.But seeing it laid out in a writing–so precise,so clinical –made it all suffocatingly real.

Across from her,Lysander Duvall sat like a king on his throne,unshaken,composed, watching her with that cool accessing gaze that made her feel like a chess piece he had already position in checkmate.His navy suit was flawless, his shoe well polished. Everything about him spoke volume of control.

He had orchestrated this moment.Every details of his agreement has been crafted to serve his needs and yet he acted as if it were simply business as usual.

"You're hesitating," he observed, his voice smooth but firm, measured–a man who never had the word 'No.'

Seraphina hand tightened around the pen. "Because this is insanity."

His expression remained unreadable,"Insane?"perhaps but mutually beneficial."

The uncertainty in his voice made her stomach twist. He is just tooconfident in this deal.

Hw knew He knew she had no real choice.

Her throat felt dry as she forced herself to skim through the document,her eyes catching on the carefully worded clauses that dictated the next year of her life.

The Terms of Their Marriage

1. Duration: The marriage would last one full year in accordance with Velmoria's Sovereign Matrimony Clause. Early termination-without just cause-would result in severe financial and reputational damage for both parties.

2. No romantic involvement: This was strictly a business arrangement. Emotional entanglements were neither required nor tolerated.

3. Public appearances: They must maintain the illusion of a loving couple whenever in the public eye-whether in interviews, at social events, or in business circles.

4. Separate lives: While they would reside in the same home, their personal lives would remain entirely separate-including separate bedrooms, unless a public display was deemed necessary.

5. Absolute confidentiality: The details of their arrangement were to remain undisclosed. No family, no friends, no press. Any breach would result in legal consequences.

6. Financial settlement: Upon completion of the contract, Seraphina would receive a substantial payout-enough to secure her independence and future aspirations.

7. Final clause: No falling in love.

She stopped at the last clause, a sharp, disbelieving laugh escaping her lips before she could stop it.

"Seriously?" She tilted her head, looking at him with something between amusement and disbelief. "You actually put that in writing?"

Lysander didn't even flinch. "I prefer clarity in my contracts."

Seraphina shook her head, exhaling sharply. "Right. Because love is such a dangerous, unpredictable force that it needs a written restriction?"

His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

Something about his tone sent a chill crawling down her spine.

She studied him, searching his face for even a hint of hesitation. But there was none.

Lysander Duvall was a man who did not believe in love.

Not as an emotion. Not as a possibility. Not as a risk worth taking.

She tapped the pen against the contract, her heart pounding. "And if one of us... breaks this rule?"

His expression hardened slightly, a flicker of something dark flashing behind his eyes.

"We won't."

It wasn't a warning-it was a certainty.

She knew better than to press. Whatever had shaped him into this man-the one who believed love was nothing more than a liability-was something she wouldn't find in the fine print of a contract.

Still, the certainty in his voice unnerved her.

Seraphina exhaled, glancing once more at the contract that held her future in its sterile, businesslike grip.

It was madness.

But wasn't her life already a mess?

She thought of her dwindling savings, the eviction notice on her fridge, the countless rejection emails, the silent dread of watching her dreams slip further and further out of reach.

And now, a golden lifeline sat before her, tied to a man who saw marriage as nothing more than a business strategy.

She should say no.

Every instinct screamed for her to walk away.

But desperation was louder.

Lysander slid the pen closer to her, his expression impassive.

Seraphina drummed the tip of the pen against the thick contract, her gaze locked onto his. "You truly don't believe in love, do you?"

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Lysander's sharp features-so fleeting, it was gone before she could decipher it. "Love is nothing more than a weakness," he stated with chilling finality.

His tone was so absolute, so devoid of sentiment, that for a moment, she felt a strange pang of pity for him.

But she didn't push. This wasn't about unraveling the enigma that was Lysander Duvall. This was about securing her future.

With a quiet scrape, he nudged the pen closer to her.

"Sign it, and everything you need to rebuild your life will be yours," he said smoothly, his voice a perfect blend of command and persuasion. "One year. Then, you walk away wealthy, independent, and free."

Seraphina's fingers trembled slightly as she hovered over the contract.

A lifetime of caution screamed at her to reconsider.

But desperation was louder.

With a steady breath, she pressed the pen to the page, ink bleeding into the paper as she wrote her name.

The moment the signature dried, so did her freedom.

Lysander took the document, his expression betraying no reaction as he skimmed over her name before slipping it into a folder.

"Our engagement will be made public tonight," he stated, rising to his feet as if they had just concluded a business transaction. "There's a gala at the Velmorian Grand Hotel. You'll need appropriate attire."

Seraphina's brow furrowed. "Tonight? You expect me to suddenly transform into your flawless fiancée in just a few hours?"

"You'll manage." His eyes trailed over her, slow and assessing. "I'll have a stylist sent to your place."

Her spine stiffened. "I can dress myself."

His lips twitched slightly-not quite amusement, not quite disbelief. "Very well. But remember, perception is everything. From this moment forward, you are Seraphina Duvall-future wife to the most powerful man in Velmoria. You need to look the part."

Seraphina clenched her jaw, her pulse a frantic rhythm against her skin.

This was real.

There was no undoing it now.

---

Becoming Seraphina Duvall

Hours later, she stood in front of her full-length mirror, staring at the woman staring back at her.

The emerald-green gown hugged her curves like it had been crafted by the gods themselves. A dramatic slit ran dangerously high along her leg, and the plunging neckline teased more than it revealed.

It was daring. Bold. A challenge.

She fastened the delicate silver clasp behind her neck, smoothing out the fabric as she inhaled deeply.

Tonight, she wouldn't be Seraphina Hayes-the struggling baker barely scraping by.

Tonight, she would step into the shoes of Seraphina Duvall, billionaire's fiancée.

She would wear the role like armor.

And she would make them believe every bit of it.

The Limousine Ride

At exactly eight o'clock, the sleek black limousine pulled up to her apartment building, its tinted windows gleaming under the streetlights.

Seraphina stepped onto the pavement, her heels clicking with quiet confidence as she approached the waiting car.

Lysander emerged, dressed in an impeccably tailored black tuxedo. Sharp. Unshakable. Effortlessly powerful.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze swept over her.

The shift was imperceptible-just the slightest flicker in his expression. But she caught it.

A strange warmth curled in her chest before she crushed it.

"You clean up well," he murmured, extending his hand.

Seraphina hesitated.

Then, with deliberate grace, she slid her fingers into his.

His grip was warm. Firm. A quiet claim.

She swallowed past the sudden tightness in her throat.

"Try to keep up," she said, lifting her chin.

A flicker of amusement ghosted across his face. "Careful, fiancée. You might just impress me."

Something about the way he said it-low, almost teasing-made her breath hitch.

She slid into the limousine, heart pounding in time with the city lights outside.

The Grand Entrance

The Velmorian Grand Hotel rose before them, bathed in golden lights, its towering glass exterior reflecting the dazzling skyline.

The moment they stepped onto the plush red carpet, the world exploded around them.

Camera flashes. Reporters shouting. The chaos of high society in full force.

Seraphina's breath caught as a wall of noise surged toward them, photographers clamoring, journalists angling for a glimpse of Velmoria's most elusive billionaire and his unexpected fiancée.

Her first instinct was to pull away, to shrink from the attention.

But before she could react, Lysander's hand tightened around her waist.

Grounding her. Claiming her.

He leaned in ever so slightly, his breath warm against her ear.

"Smile, Seraphina," he murmured, his voice low, coaxing. "You're mine now."

Her pulse skittered.

She forced herself to inhale, steady, controlled-then lifted her chin and smiled for the cameras.

This was it.

The world believed their lie.

And there was no turning back.