Chapter 2 THE COLD KISS OF COMMITMENT

The marriage certificate was crisp, white, and damning.

Leah stared at it as the judge signed the final page with a flourish. Her hands trembled slightly, hidden beneath the long sleeves of the cream blouse Adrian had told her to wear. It felt less like a wedding and more like a funeral.

No guests.

No vows.

No flowers.

Just ink, silence, and a billionaire with vengeance in his eyes.

Adrian sat beside her, his posture perfect, his expression unreadable. He hadn't said a word since they walked into the courthouse, except for when he confirmed his name and intent to marry.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood," the clerk said, sliding the paperwork toward them.

Leah managed a nod. Adrian didn't even blink.

They walked out together, but the space between them felt like an entire world. Outside, rain drizzled down the marble steps. Adrian's black car waited at the curb.

"You'll move in with me tonight," he said as they climbed inside. "There will be cameras. Public appearances. You'll play your role as the perfect wife."

Her throat tightened. "And behind closed doors?"

He didn't look at her. "Behind closed doors, you'll stay out of my way."

The words stung more than they should have. Not because she expected affection-but because a part of her remembered a different Adrian. The one who once whispered sweet nothings into her skin and made her believe love was real.

But that man was gone.

They drove in silence to his penthouse overlooking the city skyline. When she stepped inside, the contrast to her modest apartment nearly stole her breath. Marble floors, towering glass walls, and an air so cold it could freeze blood.

A maid appeared immediately. "Mrs. Blackwood, your room is this way."

Your room.

Not your shared bedroom.

Not our anything.

Of course.

Adrian peeled off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. "We'll dine at seven. My assistant will brief you on upcoming events. You'll be expected to attend."

Leah turned to face him. "And our son? When do I get to see him?"

Adrian's eyes flickered. Just for a moment. "Soon."

"Don't play with me, Adrian."

His jaw clenched. "I would never use him as leverage. But you will follow the terms. One year. Be the wife I need in public, and I'll reunite you both-fully."

Leah's eyes burned, but she nodded. "Fine."

She turned to go, but his voice stopped her at the doorway.

"Leah."

She paused, refusing to look back.

Adrian stepped closer. "You think this is revenge. Maybe it is. But don't forget-you're the one who left."

Her breath caught.

"I didn't leave you," she whispered. "I left the lies."

Silence.

Then footsteps, fading. The door to his study clicked shut.

And Leah was left standing in a golden cage, bound not by love-but by survival.

Leah wandered through the penthouse like a stranger walking a museum of someone else's life. Everything screamed power-polished, perfect, and utterly impersonal. No photos. No warmth. Just clean lines and silence thick enough to choke her.

Her new room was beautiful, yes. But sterile. She ran her fingers over the velvet bedspread, already missing the soft clutter of her tiny apartment-the drawings on the fridge, the little shoes by the door, the smell of peanut butter and sunshine.

She missed her son.

Soon, Adrian had said. But how soon? Tomorrow? A week? A month? She didn't trust him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

A young woman entered, stylish in a blazer and heels, holding a sleek tablet. "Good evening, Mrs. Blackwood. I'm Hazel, Mr. Blackwood's assistant. Here's your itinerary for the next two weeks."

Leah blinked. "Itinerary?"

Hazel nodded without missing a beat. "Events. Charity functions. Business galas. You'll be expected to attend as Mr. Blackwood's wife. Wardrobe and stylists have been arranged."

"I'm not a doll," Leah muttered, thumbing through the tablet.

Hazel's smile was polite but tight. "You are the face of Blackwood reputation now. It comes with obligations."

Right. A contract marriage. A trophy wife for a man with a heart made of glass and revenge.

After Hazel left, Leah changed into the silk dress left out for dinner. It clung to her curves in all the right ways, a crimson color that made her feel like a walking temptation. She didn't do it for Adrian. She did it for herself-to remember she still had power. Even here.

At exactly seven, she descended the stairs. Adrian stood by the dining table, scrolling through something on his phone. When he looked up, his eyes locked on her-and lingered.

His gaze darkened.

"You clean up well," he said simply.

Leah raised an eyebrow. "You don't look so bad yourself."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. It vanished just as quickly.

They sat opposite each other. The table was absurdly long. A chef brought out wine and courses she couldn't pronounce. Leah picked at her food, appetite gone.

"I need to see him," she said quietly.

Adrian didn't answer right away.

"He's at my country estate for now. Safe. Happy. When I'm sure you won't run again, you'll see him."

Leah's temper flared. "He's my son."

"He's mine, too," Adrian snapped. "You don't get to rewrite that just because you disappeared."

His voice was calm-but sharp. Dangerous.

Leah swallowed back the scream clawing at her throat. "I left because you lied to me, Adrian. Because I found out who you really were-the secrets, the power plays. I didn't want to raise a child in that world."

"And now you're back in it."

He leaned in, voice low and lethal.

"You made that choice the second you stepped into my life again."

She stared at him. "You brought me back."

He didn't deny it.

Their eyes locked-two storms crashing.

Seconds ticked by. Tension crackled between them, too thick to breathe through.

Adrian stood suddenly. "Dinner's over."

Leah pushed back her chair. "Running away again?"

His eyes narrowed. "You've forgotten how dangerous I can be, Leah."

She stepped toward him, chest rising with fury. "And you've forgotten how much I loved you before you destroyed it all."

He froze. Just for a moment. Like her words hit something raw.

And then-he walked past her, lips brushing against her ear.

"Love was never part of the contract."

He left her standing there, shaking. Alone.

Again.

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