His Wife By Midnight

‎If silence could scream, the one in Damon Black's office was deafening.

‎My fingers hovered over the contract like they were suspended in air, frozen between life and death. Damon stood inches away, his presence sharp enough to cut through bone. His voice from moments ago clung to the air like smoke:

‎"Finish signing."

‎After Collins' call after those frantic, terrified words, I could barely breathe.

‎Damon wasn't helping you.

‎He's using you.

‎My pulse hammered violently.

‎"Why did the call drop?" I whispered.

‎Damon tilted his head, watching me too closely. "Because you answered when I told you not to."

‎"That doesn't explain..."

‎

‎"It explains everything," he cut in, his voice low, controlled. "Do not let anyone interfere with your decisions."

‎My throat tightened.

‎I swallowed hard. "What is Collins talking about?"

‎"Nothing that concerns you."

‎"It concerns me if he's talking about my mother," I said, my voice shaking.

‎That was when something shifted in his eyes, something dark, unmovable.

‎"Your mother will get the surgery. You will get the money." He leaned closer, his fingers brushing the edge of the contract. "All you need to do is sign. Right now."

‎Every instinct in my body screamed at me.

‎Run.

‎Think.

‎Ask.

‎Stop.

‎But then another voice whispered:

‎Mom.

‎Mom.

‎Mom needs you.

‎I forced myself to breathe.

‎"Why me?" I asked again, my voice barely audible. "Why choose me for this marriage? You don't even know me."

‎His stare didn't flinch.

‎Didn't soften.

‎"I don't choose at random."

‎"But.."

‎"This is not a negotiation, Mia."

‎My chest tightened painfully. "It feels like you're hiding something."

‎His jaw ticked. "Everyone hides something."

‎Those words sent a chill through me.

‎Still, I tried again. "If this is harmless and if there's nothing to worry about then why did Collins sound scared?"

‎A shadow passed over Damon's expression, there for only a heartbeat before disappearing.

‎"Put down the phone," he said quietly, "and sign."

‎My hand trembled. "I-I just need a minute."

‎Damon stepped closer.

‎Too close.

‎I could feel the warmth of him, powerful, controlled, unshakable like standing next to something dangerous pretending to sleep.

‎"You don't have a minute."

‎His voice wasn't loud.

‎It was soft.

‎Too soft.

‎"Damon..." I whispered, fear curling inside me. "Why do I feel like I'm walking into something I don't understand?"

‎His eyes locked with mine.

‎"Because you are."

‎My breath caught.

‎He wasn't even denying it.

‎He wasn't pretending.

‎He was telling me plainly:

‎Yes.

‎This is dangerous.

‎Yes.

‎You don't understand.

‎And no...

‎he did not intend to explain.

‎My fingers went numb around the pen.

‎Before I could say anything else, he took the contract and turned the pages to the last one.

‎

‎"Once you sign here, the money transfers immediately." He tapped the line with one finger, his touch precise. "Your mother will be prepped for surgery at dawn."

‎Dawn.

‎That was all I needed to hear.

‎I reached for the pen again, squeezing my eyes shut.

‎"Please," I whispered, "don't hurt me."

‎The air went still.

‎Completely still.

‎When I opened my eyes, Damon wasn't smirking. He wasn't angry.

‎He looked... unreadable.

‎"I don't hurt without reason," he said. "And I don't break what belongs to me."

‎My breath caught.

‎Belongs to me.

‎The warning in those words was impossible to ignore.

‎He didn't rush me.

‎He didn't touch me.

‎He simply watched.

‎

‎I forced myself to inhale, exhale, steady the shaking inside me.

‎For Mom.

‎For her surgery.

‎For her life.

‎Slowly... painfully... I pressed the pen to the paper.

‎My signature scratched across the page like it was carving the decision into my skin.

‎The moment the pen left the paper, something inside me snapped.

‎It was done.

‎It couldn't be undone.

‎Damon took the contract gently from my hand, closed the folder, and said:

‎"Good."

‎

‎He picked up his phone, pressing one button.

‎No greeting.

‎No hesitation.

‎

‎"Transfer it."

‎Just two words.

‎But they echoed like thunder.

‎He turned toward the windows, speaking quietly into the phone. "Her mother's surgery begins at first light. Ensure she gets a private ward and the best team."

‎He paused, listening.

‎"No mistakes."

‎Then he hung up.

‎I stared at him, my heart still pounding painfully.

‎"What happens now?" I asked.

‎Damon turned slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with a force that stole my breath.

‎"Now," he said, "you move in with me."

‎My stomach dropped. "T-tonight?"

‎"Yes."

‎"I-I can't," I stammered. "My clothes, my.."

‎"I will handle your belongings."

‎"But my job-"

‎

‎"You won't be returning to that mall."

‎It felt like the floor vanished beneath me.

‎"I need that job.."

‎"You have a husband now," he said, calm but firm. "And my wife does not work at Sunrise Mall."

‎My heart thudded painfully. "You're controlling everything."

‎"That is the point of a contract marriage," he replied. "You gave up control when you signed."

‎Tears stung my eyes.

‎I blinked them back.

‎Damon wasn't moved.

‎Not even a little.

‎He walked toward the door. "Let's go."

‎But my feet refused to move.

‎Every part of me was shaking.

‎"Mia."

‎His voice slid through the air soft, dangerous.

‎"Come."

‎I took one step.

‎Then another.

‎But as I reached the doorway, my phone buzzed in my hand.

‎A new message. ‎From Collins.

‎I froze.

‎Collins: ‎I wasn't supposed to see this.

‎Something is wrong with your mother's file.

‎Mia, the test results were CHANGED.

‎Her real diagnosis is hidden.

‎Someone covered it up.

‎My blood ran cold.

‎Another message came instantly almost frantic: Don't trust Damon Black.

‎Your mother's illness...

‎it's connected to him.

‎My breath caught so sharply I almost choked.

‎Damon turned back when he noticed I wasn't walking. "Is something wrong?"

‎I hid the phone behind me instinctively, my hand trembling.

‎"No," I whispered. "It's nothing."

‎His eyes narrowed not suspicious, but sharp, assessing, as if he could see lies forming in my throat.

‎For a long, terrifying second...

‎he just stared.

‎Then he tilted his head.

‎"Mia," he said quietly, "from this moment on, you don't keep secrets from me."

‎I forced a nod, my heart pounding so loudly it hurt.

‎"Good," he murmured. "Let's go."

‎But as I followed him toward the elevator, one thought screamed louder than fear: If Collins was telling the truth...

‎then I just married the one man connected to my mother's sickness.

‎And he didn't even know

‎that I knew.

‎