Chapter 5 Contracts and Conflicted Hearts

The soft scent of blush-pink peonies lingered in the air as Ariella stood at the kitchen counter, watching Leila stir a pot of tea. The flowers had found a home in a crystal vase on the windowsill, a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside her since last night.

Leila turned, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "So, are you going to tell me where you got those? Or do I have to interrogate you?"

Ariella sighed and leaned against the marble island. "I spent the night at someone's place."

Leila's spoon paused mid-stir. "What?"

"He's... someone I met at the bar. Again. His name's Cassian."

Leila blinked, clearly thrown. "Cassian? Ariella, you barely know him."

"I know." Ariella's tone softened. "But it wasn't like that. He wasn't pushy. He listened. And last night... it just felt right."

Leila placed the spoon down with a soft clink and turned fully toward her. "You know I trust your instincts, but I also know how vulnerable you are right now. This Cassian guy, he could be anyone."

Ariella gave a tired smile. "He's in the tech and development industry. Clean apartment and calm energy. He didn't push. And when I left, he didn't ask for anything in return. Just... gave me flowers."

Leila sighed. "That's a nice gesture, but it doesn't mean you know him. Please, just be careful. I don't want you falling for a ghost."

"I hear you." Ariella nodded. "But I can't walk around fearing everyone. Not anymore."

Leila's expression softened. "Just promise me you'll keep your guard up."

Ariella nodded, though deep down, she wished she could convince herself to feel the same way.

The conversation hung between them, tense but understanding. Neither of them had the energy to fight it further. The morning sun peeked through the blinds, and the scent of chamomile filled the room as Leila poured them both tea.

The following day, a slow and breezy Saturday, the two women spent the morning cleaning the house, blasting old R&B hits, and dusting away more than just grime memories, tension, and fatigue.

Just as Ariella collapsed onto the couch with a groan, her phone buzzed.

Cassian.

She hesitated before answering.

"Hey," she said, voice lighter than she expected.

"Hi," Cassian replied smoothly. "I wanted to check on you. About the other night."

Ariella tensed, heart pounding. "Oh. Right."

Ariella paused, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "I'm fine. Just trying to sort through everything."

"There's no pressure," he said. "I just want you to know I'm here if you want to talk."

The sincerity in his voice surprised her. "Thank you, Cassian."

They spoke for a few minutes longer, their conversation gentle, surprisingly easy. When they hung up, Ariella felt an unexpected flicker of hope.

Trying to shake the thoughts, she excused herself and left for Marcus's office in town. She needed clarity on her father's will if nothing else.

Marcus looked up from his desk as she entered. "You look restless."

"I am," she said, sitting across from him. "I need to know where we stand with the real will."

Marcus leaned back in his chair, tapping his pen against his palm. "I've been working on it. Slowly but surely. Give me a few more days, I'm tracking down something, or rather, someone."

Ariella nodded, unsure whether to feel relieved or anxious.

Days passed.

It was mid-week when a sudden, triumphant yell echoed from Marcus's office at home. "I've found him!"

Ariella and Leila, who were both in the living room, exchanged wide-eyed glances before rushing into his workspace.

Marcus turned to them, eyes bright. "I've found the address of Harrison Blythe. The original attorney your father used. He didn't disappear. Catherine buried the paperwork."

Ariella smirked. "Of course she did."

Leila stepped forward. "So what's next?"

"I'll run background checks, verify the address, and find the best way to contact him discreetly," Marcus replied. "We don't want to alert the wrong people."

Ariella felt a flicker of hope. Finally, a real lead.

But before she could fully process it, her phone rang again.

Cassian.

She answered in a quieter voice this time. "Hello?"

"Are you free today? I want you to come over," he said simply.

Ariella hesitated, a swirl of thoughts flooding her mind. Is this about last night? Or something more?

"Okay," she replied cautiously.

"What time will you be free? Would 12 or 1 pm work?"

"Whichever works best for you."

Ariella checked the time. "Let's go with 1."

"Perfect. I'll text you the address."

She hung up, her stomach knotting again. What did he want to talk about?

By noon, she was dressed simply in a fitted black turtleneck and jeans with a trench coat. She didn't want to look like she was trying too hard.

As the cab pulled up to the towering riverfront lodge again, a wave of insecurity swept over her.

She wasn't who she used to be. Not the heiress of Voss Holdings. Not the girl with a portfolio of elite interior designs. Now, she was surviving on borrowed time and goodwill.

She walked into the building anyway.

Cassian was waiting in the lobby, dressed in slate gray slacks and a black turtleneck that mirrored hers. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes softened when he saw her.

"Come," he said gently. "Let's talk upstairs."

The rooftop was stunning. Panoramic views of the city skyline stretched out beneath them, bathed in a golden afternoon hue. A small table was set with refreshments, coffee, pastries, and a bottle of sparkling water.

Cassian gestured for her to sit.

"I want to clarify something," he began. "I didn't call you here to talk about what happened between us."

Ariella blinked. "You didn't?"

"No," he said. "I liked being with you. But I'm not looking for romance. Or something casual, either."

Her chest tightened. Was he saying goodbye?

"I want to propose something else," he continued. "A contract marriage."

She stared at him, blinking. "Excuse me?"

"I'm being pressured into an arranged marriage by my family. Old money. Status games. You know the type." His voice was calm but tinged with disdain. "They've set a deadline. If I'm not married by the end of this quarter, they'll start pulling strings."

"And you want me to pretend to be your wife?"

"For a year," he said. "You'll be compensated. Handsomely. Your image will benefit. You'll gain access to certain circles again. And we'll help each other... avoid things we don't want."

Ariella looked away, processing. "So this is... a business deal."

"Entirely," Cassian confirmed. "No expectations. No strings. I'll have my lawyer send you the contract."

She stared at him for a long moment.

Then nodded.

"I'll read it," she said. "But... I'm not saying yes. Not yet."

"I wouldn't expect you to," he said quietly.

Later that evening, back at Leila and Marcus's townhouse, Ariella explained everything.

Leila dropped the glass she was holding. "A contract marriage? Ariella, are you out of your mind?"

Marcus frowned, arms crossed. "That's a dangerous game. What's he after?"

"I don't think he's after anything," Ariella replied. "He was honest. Direct. And I... I like him."

Leila's eyes narrowed. "You just met him."

"I know. But I don't want to lose him. Not like I lost Liam to Vanessa. Not because I hesitated."

Marcus sighed. "So what happens to your inheritance? To your fight for justice?"

"I haven't forgotten," Ariella said firmly. "But I'm allowed to want something for myself too. Something that makes me feel seen."

A long silence passed between them.

Finally, Marcus nodded. "We won't come in your way. But if you need us"

"I know," Ariella said, smiling slightly. "You'll be there."

As she climbed the stairs to her room, her mind swirled with thoughts.

Could she really do this? Could she marry a man she barely knew again?

And why, despite all her doubts, did the idea not feel entirely wrong?