Samantha
One evening never seemed like it could have changed my entire life. Here I am, nevertheless, staring at a face in front of the mirror that seems more haunted than it has ever looked. Four years ago, everything was different. I was distinct. I was hopeful. Dreaming was something I did. My future did not involve always on edge waiting for the next catastrophe to occur.
That predates his arrival into my life.
I let out a strong exhale, running a hand over my son's messy hair as he runs his toy truck on the floor next to me. Ethan: Every time I utter his name, my pulse speeds. My one lighthouse in the gloom, he is the one decent thing that emerged from that evening.
I once more check my reflection and see my hands shaking. I cannot focus on anything else since the call I got this morning still haunts me.
Samantha, we know you.
I had hung up right away, panic knotting my stomach. How would they have located me? I had done all in my ability to get off the radar and bury the past sufficiently deep that nobody would ever find it. Until lately, I felt I had succeeded.
I'm pulled from my ideas as the phone rings suddenly. My pulse leaps from my neck. Looking forward to the worst, I grab it from the counter. Rather, but, I can't identify this number. Not the same one from the past but still foreign.
"Hey?," I asked . My speech was wobbly, showing the underlying terror.
"Samantha Dawson??" One asks in a deep, authoritative voice.
I am hesitant. "Who else is asking?"
Adrian Blackwood here is the name.
I think my heart stops for a moment. Adrian Blackwood. Every business journal, every headline, every piece on billionaires who possess more influence than most people could possibly grasp—the name I have seen on every one of them. the man wielding iron fists over New York's corporate scene. The man I never, in a million years, could have ever imagined talking to.
Why is he giving me calls?
Trying to keep my voice calm, I apologize, Mr. Blackwood. "What can I do for you?”
There's a stop, and I practically hear him measuring me over the phone. At last, his tone was quiet and deliberate, "I have a proposition for you." "One that would be good for us both."
I grimace, uncertainty whirling around the residual terror from the previous call. "I do not understand...."
"I need a wife, Ms. Dawson," Adrian says, his sentences short and direct. And you have to be protected.
My pulse freezes in my throat. How is he aware of that? How informed is he about my needs?
My mind racing, I add gently, "I'm not sure what you mean."
"I know about your son," he adds, his voice exact and devoid of feeling. "I understand you run a hazard. For a charge, I can assist you.
My blood is chilly. He refers to Ethan. He is aware of the risk. But really knowledge of him? And from what perspective is he discussing prices?
"I am not sure what you are—"
"Don't play games with me, Samantha," he says, his voice hardening. "I can bring all of this under control. The debt, the dangers, the folks after you... You must, however, agree to my terms.
My heart thumping in my chest, I chew hard. I want nothing to be engaged in whatsoever this is. What decision, though, do I have? On my own, I cannot shield Ethan. I have been trying for years; it is only getting more difficult.
" What are your terms?" I ask softly; the words hardly come out of my mouth.
"I need a wife," he says, his voice as sharp and frigid as steel. "For appearances," Businesswise. It's only a makeshift arrangement; nothing more.
A marriage under contract. I have heard of events like this occurring in his universe—rich people negotiating with relationships like chips. I never imagined, though, I would be involved in one.
And what in turn do I get? Though I already know the response, I ask.
"Your son's personal security. Your own personal safety. Enough money to settle all of your debt as well.
My emotions are flying, my head whirling. I have not trusted him. Not even a second. On the other hand, the alternative is worse. Even terrible.
I say, my voice almost above a whisper, "I need time to think about it".
His final tone, he says, "You don't have time." "I'll forward the contract by the end of the day. You will sign it; we will proceed. Alternatively you can decline and gamble with the folks attending your event.
My gut starts to tighten itself. He is giving me no option. Like I was four years ago, I am caught. This time only, not just me. Ethan as well. And I cannot afford to choose poorly.
"I will... I say, my voice quivering as the weight of the choice slams down on me.
"Good," he responds just as if he expected nothing less. "We'll meet tomorrow to finish everything.”
And he hangs up, leaving me standing there staring at the phone in my palm while my heart thumps in my chest. What exactly did I agree to?
Adrian
My mind immediately turns to the next chore at hand as I toss my phone on the desk. Sam Dawson. I can feel her going to be a trouble. But I'm not free to deal with issues. I need this deal right now and will need it going forward. If I fail to confirm my stance, all my father created would be removed from me. His company is barely hanging.
Still, she has something about her. Something I find difficult to exactly identify. She agreed rather rapidly, which surprised me. Desperate people, then again, act in ways they never would have considered.
Still, her story goes beyond what first greets the eye. I can tell. Whichever it is, I'll find out. Nobody confides in me for very long.
Samantha
I got up the following morning with a stomach ache. Already here, mocking me on the kitchen table, the contract has arrived. As of yet, I haven opened it. The tiny print and the stipulations tying me to Adrian Blackwood for God knows how long bothers me.
I do not have any option, though.
Pulling the contract toward me, my hands shaking as I turn the pages, I sit down. And that's when I find it hidden in the legal jargon—a clause rendering my blood useless.
No secrets. None of them are lying. Ignoring any pertinent information may cause the contract to be immediately terminated under heavy financial penalties.
My heart is hammering, I fix my gaze on the words. He has no knowledge about Ethan. Not now. But should he learn...
That cannot be allowed to happen. I will mark the contract signed. I am going to wed Adrian Blackwood. I never let him discover the truth though.
Because if he does, everything I have worked so hard to defend will come toppled around me.
I knock at the door as I sign my name on the dotted line. My pulse sharpens and a sensation of gloom blankets me. I fix my gaze on the time. For Adrian, it is far too early. One could wonder who it could be.
My heart almost stops when I open the door.
One person I never would have dreamed I would see again is standing there grinning sinisterly.
"Hello, Samantha," he says with a poisoned tone.
And at that point I understand—my past is about to catch up with me in ways I never could have predicted.
