Chapter 3 The Contract

The scream echoed through the halls like a memory - chilling and hollow. Ariella stepped back into the hallway, her breath quick and eyes scanning the dim corridor, but there was no one. Just shadows that seemed to move when she wasn't looking.And silence.

She turned back toward her room. The note still lay where she left it: Find the vow, break the curse. Her heart thundered. This wasn't just a house with a bad history - it was a place with an agenda.

She didn't sleep that night.

Morning came in shades of gray and silver. Sunlight never fully touched Ravenhall. It was as if the house rejected warmth. Ariella descended the staircase to find Damian seated at the long dining table, dressed in black and sipping black coffee, his expression unreadable as ever.

Without looking up, he said, "You scream in your sleep."

She narrowed her eyes. "That wasn't me."

This time he did look at her - slowly, darkly. "Interesting."

She sat across from him. "We need to talk about the contract."

Damian slid a folder toward her. Thick, aged paper. Real signatures.

"Signed by both our grandmothers," he said. "It's not a joke. This isn't just about property. If either of us backs out before the ninety days are complete, the entire estate - everything inside and underneath it - will be seized by the state."

Ariella flipped through the pages. Handwritten clauses, strange phrasing, even mentions of "ritual proximity" and "sacrificial unity." One clause caught her attention:

"The engagement must be believable to all who inquire. Affection must be displayed. Distance will provoke... interference."

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

Damian's jaw flexed. "The house watches. I don't know how else to explain it. Things happen when we're not 'close.'"

"Are you saying the house punishes us if we act like we hate each other?"

"I'm saying Ravenhall has rules." He leaned in, his voice low. "Play the part, Ariella. For your safety as much as the inheritance."

She looked down at the contract again. Her mother's name was scribbled in the margins, next to a line scratched out violently. Someone tried to change the terms.

"What's underneath the estate?" she asked.

Damian didn't answer right away. Then: "There's a vault. Locked. We both have keys."

"What's inside?"

He looked at her with something between sorrow and fear. "Secrets. And maybe... the reason your mother never left."

Her breath caught. "And you knew her?"

He nodded. "Not well. But well enough to know she was scared before she vanished."

A heavy silence hung between them.

Then, abruptly, Damian stood and extended a hand. "If we're going to do this... we start now."

Ariella hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. His fingers were calloused, warm, surprisingly gentle.

"Smile," he murmured, as footsteps echoed from behind a distant door.

"Why?"

"Because we're no longer alone."