Chapter 2 Terms and Conditions

Ava stared at her reflection in the tinted window of the car that pulled up to her apartment the next morning. She looked the same-same exhausted eyes, same worn hoodie-but everything had changed.

The man in the front seat didn't say much. Just handed her an envelope marked "Personal Effects – Draven Holdings," then tapped his earpiece and began speaking in clipped tones to someone on the other end. His suit was crisp, and he moved like a soldier. She guessed he was security.

She was too tired to ask questions. The past twelve hours had cracked something inside her. What had she just agreed to?

A year. A million dollars. Her sister's life.

The math didn't feel right. The cost was too high, and yet... not high enough.

When they reached her apartment in Brooklyn, it was like stepping into another universe. Damp walls. Flickering hallway lights. A smell of mildew she'd long stopped noticing.

She stepped inside and locked the door behind her. Lily lay curled in bed, the rise and fall of her breathing shallow but steady.

Ava dropped to her knees and smoothed her sister's hair back.

"It's okay, Lil," she whispered. "We've got help now."

She pulled the blanket tighter around her sister's fragile body and closed her eyes. But sleep didn't come. Not even for a second.

---

Later that afternoon, two black sedans arrived outside the building. Four men in suits stepped out, along with the woman who had first approached Ava the night before.

"Ms. Sinclair," she said with a calm smile. "I'm Harper. I'll be your liaison from now on."

"Liaison?" Ava repeated, squinting under the daylight.

"Between you and Mr. Draven. And the public."

Harper stepped aside to let the men pass. They moved with precision, gathering what few items Ava and Lily had-medication, clothes, two photographs, and the last remnants of a life built on survival.

Within thirty minutes, they were on the road again.

---

The new apartment was in the Upper West Side, a penthouse in a building that had its own rooftop garden, private gym, and a concierge who bowed when they passed.

Inside, everything gleamed. The kitchen was larger than their old apartment. The master bedroom had its own balcony. And Lily's new room looked like something out of a children's hospital ad-soft pastels, medical-grade monitors, and bookshelves already filled with novels.

"How did they know her favorite author?" Ava muttered, her hands trailing along the spines.

"They research everything," came a low voice behind her.

She spun. A tall man stood in the doorway. Not Lucas. This man looked even more dangerous-lean and cold-eyed, dressed in black from head to toe.

"Elias Vaughn," he said simply. "Head of security. You'll be seeing a lot of me."

Ava crossed her arms. "That supposed to reassure me?"

"No. It's supposed to keep you alive."

Before she could ask what that meant, he handed her another envelope.

"Your schedule. Wardrobe arrangements. Press interviews. Draven's calendar. And the contract."

"I already signed the contract," Ava said.

"You signed the initial agreement. This one's longer. Legal details, appearance clauses, social media controls. Don't post anything. Don't speak to reporters. Don't go anywhere without an escort unless approved."

He stared at her.

"Don't lie to him."

Ava's throat dried.

"And if I do?"

"He doesn't like liars."

Vaughn turned and walked out without another word.

---

Ava spent the rest of the day caring for Lily, trying to pretend none of this was real. But every time she passed a mirror, she saw it-the weight of something irreversible.

That evening, Harper returned with two garment bags and a small leather-bound folder.

"Mr. Draven expects you at the penthouse for dinner. 8 p.m. sharp."

"I didn't realize I was being summoned like a call girl," Ava said, too tired to hide her bite.

Harper smiled without flinching. "You're not. You're a bride."

She left the folder on the table. Ava opened it and found a marriage license already filled out. Witness lines. Notarized signatures.

All that was missing was a date.

---

At precisely 8:00 p.m., Ava stepped off the elevator into the top floor of Draven Tower. This time, the space didn't feel vast. It felt... caged.

Lucas stood near the grand piano, pouring whiskey into a crystal glass.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

"It's 8:00."

"I like punctuality to mean early."

He turned and studied her. She wore the dress Harper had chosen-black satin, simple and elegant, hugging her like a second skin. Her hair was pulled back in soft waves, makeup subtle but flawless.

"You clean up well."

Ava ignored the compliment. "What is this, exactly? A trial run?"

Lucas handed her a glass of water and motioned for her to sit.

"This is a meeting. You're going to be appearing beside me in public. I need to know if you can follow the rules."

She sat. "Let's start with the most important one, then. Why me?"

Lucas's eyes darkened. He took a slow sip of his drink.

"You're not the first person to ask that."

"That's not an answer."

"No, but it's all you'll get for now."

He set his glass down and leaned forward.

"Here are your rules: Stay out of the locked room on the west wing. Never speak to the press. Never contact your biological parents. And never go digging into the past."

Ava froze. "I never said anything about parents."

He smirked. "Didn't have to."

She stared at him. "Are you hiding something?"

Lucas didn't blink. "Aren't we all?"

He stood, straightening his jacket.

"We're married in three days. The ceremony will be private, followed by a photo op and carefully released statement. You'll be briefed on your role before then."

"Three days?" she echoed, standing too. "That's not enough time."

"It's all the time you get."

As she turned to leave, Lucas spoke again-his voice quieter, but sharper.

"You think you're here to save your sister. But you're wrong."

She looked over her shoulder.

"Then why am I here?"

Lucas's gaze pinned her to the floor.

"Because someone is watching us. And they think you're her."

"Her?" Ava whispered.

His lips twitched into something like a warning.

"Just smile, Ava. That's all you have to do. And try not to fall in love with me."