Chapter 5 Moving in...

I barely had time to breathe after signing that contract before Pierre looked me dead in the eye and said, "Pack your bags. You're moving in."

I blinked. "What? Now?"

He shrugged, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"The sooner you're here, the better."

My heart thudded hard. Moving in with Pierre Creed-the mafia boss who just made me his contract wife-felt like stepping straight into the fire. But what choice did I have?

The money from that contract was a lifeline for my father. For the baby. For me. I nodded stiffly.

"Okay." And just like that, my life turned upside down.

Packing was the last thing I wanted to do. Every shirt I folded felt heavier than the last. Every pair of shoes stuffed into a bag felt like a reminder of a past life I was leaving behind.

I didn't even know what to expect moving into Pierre's world-the luxury, the secrets, the danger.

But I was sure of one thing: I couldn't let him find out about the baby yet. Not now. Not like this.

I swallowed the truth like a bitter pill and decided to keep my pregnancy hidden for as long as I could.

The drive to Pierre's estate was silent and tense. He didn't speak much, and I didn't want to push it. The mansion was huge.

Bigger than anything I'd seen outside of police reports on mafia bosses. Cold marble floors, heavy drapes, dark wood everywhere. It smelled like power and secrets. He showed me to my room, which was surprisingly elegant. Far from the cold corporate offices I imagined, it had a warmth-soft linens, thick rugs, and a balcony overlooking manicured gardens.

"This will be your space. Don't wander too far. Security is tight," he said.

I swallowed a nervous laugh. Don't wander too far. Right.

After dropping my bags, curiosity pulled me toward the study.

I didn't know what I was looking for exactly, but the secrets Pierre carried seemed to be locked in that room.

The door creaked open, and I stepped inside. The walls were lined with shelves full of leather-bound books and files. A massive desk sat in the center, cluttered with papers, a laptop, and a small safe.

I edged closer to the desk, eyes scanning for anything that might explain more about Pierre. My fingers grazed a thick file tucked under some papers.

Without thinking, I pulled it out. The cover was plain, but my breath caught when I saw a photo taped to the front. It was a picture of a man-older, stern-with sharp eyes that reminded me of someone. I flipped the file open.

"Don't." The voice was so close, so sudden, I nearly dropped the file. Pierre was standing right behind me. His face was unreadable, but his tone was sharp-cold enough to freeze my blood.

"Give it back."

I hesitated. "What's in here?"

He took the file from my hands, holding it tightly. "Some things are better left unknown,"he said.

I wanted to protest, to demand answers, but the way he looked at me stopped me cold.

It was like a warning-and something else. A strange mixture of anger and... protection? Then his voice dropped even lower.

"Know your place, Matilda." The words hit me like a slap.

My heart pounded. "What do you mean?"

He turned away, pacing a few steps before stopping.

"I'm your husband now. But that doesn't mean you get to cross lines. This world... it's dangerous. I can't have you poking around where you don't belong."

I stared at him, stunned. The man who just wanted a contract marriage was suddenly commanding me with an authority that scared me. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes, Pierre." I said.

Days passed, and I tried to settle into this new life. The days were filled with strange routines, security briefings, and learning how to walk through a house that felt more like a fortress.

Pierre was distant-businesslike. Sometimes cold. Sometimes unexpectedly soft, but always distant. I was careful not to reveal my secret. Not a single slip about the baby growing inside me. But my mind kept drifting back to that file in his study.

Who was that man? And why did Pierre react so violently when I touched it? I couldn't shake the feeling that my life-and this whole arrangement-was a lot more complicated than I realized.

One evening, after a long day of silence and side-glances, my phone buzzed.

A message from Cullman. My heart sank before I even opened it.

"Matilda, please. Let's talk. I made a mistake. I want you back."

The words burned. The man who had humiliated me, broken my heart, and vanished when I needed him most was now begging for a second chance.

I stared at the screen, looking indifferent. I had a lot on my table already and I wasn't ready to include anything new again.

"Bang ! " The was a loud smash on the door