Chapter 4
2672words
A woman in her forties in a crisp business suit, briefcase in hand, wearing a professional smile.
"Miss Williams, I'm Emily Zhang, Mr. Pierce's personal attorney."
I let her in, my palms already damp with sweat.
I'd barely slept, my mind racing with doubts about whether I was making the right decision.
A marriage of convenience?
It sounded insane.
But compared to William's threats, at least this gave me a choice.
"Please sit, Miss Williams. We have much to discuss."
Emily extracted a stack of documents from her briefcase, arranging them meticulously on the table.
"Mr. Pierce briefed me on your debt situation last night. He asked me to draft a prenuptial agreement, but before we proceed, I need to confirm a few things."
"What things?"
"First, are you considering this proposal completely voluntarily, without coercion?"
I recalled William's cold sneer, remembered those black roses.
"Miss Williams?"
"Yes, I am."
At least, between Ethan and William, choosing Ethan was voluntary.
Emily nodded, making a notation on her document.
"Good. Then let's discuss the specific terms."
She opened the first document.
"This is the draft prenuptial agreement. Mr. Pierce proposes the following conditions: First, the marriage term will be one year, starting from the date of registration, after which either party may file for divorce without conditions."
One year.
"Second, Mr. Pierce will pay off all debts under your name in one lump sum on the wedding day, including but not limited to the five million dollars in private debt left by your father."
Five million.
Was he really willing to pay that much?
"Third, during the marriage, you will accompany Mr. Pierce as Mrs. Pierce to necessary social occasions—business dinners, charity events, family gatherings, and so forth—with the specific frequency to be determined through mutual agreement."
Playing the role of wife.
This would be my job.
"Fourth, during the marriage, you will receive a monthly allowance of fifty thousand dollars, as well as an apartment on the Upper East Side for your residence."
Fifty thousand per month, plus debt repayment and separation fee—this was a massive investment.
"Fifth, during the marriage, both parties shall maintain independent private lives. Mr. Pierce will not interfere with your work, social activities, or personal matters, and likewise, you should not interfere with his."
"What does that mean?"
Emily looked up, her gaze coolly professional.
"It means this is a business marriage, not involving real emotions or marital obligations. You both retain your private space."
"There's no need to..."
My face burned.
"Yes, no need for marital relations, unless both parties consent."
Emily spoke with clinical detachment, as if discussing an office lease.
"Sixth, when you divorce after one year, you will receive a two million dollar settlement, as well as the right to continue using the Upper East Side apartment for another year."
Two million.
Enough for me to go to Germany, start a new life, do research, and escape all this.
"Seventh, after the divorce, both parties will sign a confidentiality agreement, forbidding disclosure of the true nature of this marriage to outside parties."
Confidentiality.
Of course.
This was about his reputation, and my dignity.
Emily closed the file.
"These are the main terms. Do you have any questions?"
I had a thousand questions.
"Why one year?"
"Mr. Pierce believes a year is sufficient time for him to enter traditional business circles and establish credibility, after which he will no longer need marriage as an endorsement."
"What if I want a divorce earlier?"
"You can, but you must give three months' notice, and the separation fee will be reduced proportionally."
"What if he wants a divorce earlier?"
"Same rules, but you will still receive the full separation fee."
That was fair.
Cold, but fair.
"Miss Williams, I must tell you that this is not an ordinary prenuptial agreement. This is essentially a business contract."
Emily's tone grew more serious.
"Mr. Pierce is my client, and I have an obligation to protect his interests. But as a lawyer, I must also ensure you fully understand what you're doing."
"You will be playing the role of his wife for the next year. This isn't just about attending a few dinners. Your life will be under media scrutiny, examined by his business partners, and judged by traditional families."
"This requires strong psychological resilience."
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
I thought of Devonhill's threats, my father's betrayal, and the apartment I would lose in twenty-five days.
"I need time to think."
"Of course. You have two days. If you agree, we will formally sign on the third day and arrange the wedding as soon as possible."
"How soon?"
"Mr. Pierce hopes to complete it within a week. He mentioned someone is pressuring you, so the sooner the better."
One week.
In seven days, I might be Mrs. Pierce.
This was insane.
Emily packed up the documents, preparing to leave.
"Miss Williams, one last question."
"What?"
"Do you love Mr. Pierce?"
I froze.
"No, I don't love him."
"Good."
Emily smiled—the first genuine smile I'd seen from her.
"Then this marriage might succeed, because love makes everything complicated."
She walked toward the door.
"See you in two days, Miss Williams. Think about it carefully."
The door closed.
I sat on the sofa, staring at the stack of documents on the table.
Prenuptial agreement.
Business contract.
A one-year deal.
My marriage.
My phone rang.
Ethan.
"Have you met with Emily?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"All the terms. One-year duration. Five million in debt. Monthly living expenses. Two million separation fee."
Silence.
"What do you think?"
"It's... fair."
"But?"
"This is too fast. Getting married in a week?"
"Annabel, Devonhill has given you three days. I need to protect you before he makes a move, and a marriage certificate is the best protection."
"Once you become my wife, legally, your debt liability becomes complicated. It will be much harder for him to touch you."
"You've thought of everything."
"This is my specialty—planning every step in advance."
I heard keyboard clicking from his end. He was working.
"Give me an answer in two days. If you agree, I'll handle everything else."
"Ethan."
"Hmm?"
"Why me? You could choose any woman with a background. Why risk someone with debt whose father is a criminal?"
The keyboard clicking stopped.
"Because you won't have illusions about me."
"What?"
"Those women with backgrounds would expect a real marriage. Would expect love. Would be unwilling to leave after a year."
"But you won't. You understand clearly this is a transaction. After a year, you'll take the money and go to Germany, without looking back."
"That's what I need—clean, clear, no future complications."
He spoke so calmly, so rationally.
"And also."
His voice softened.
"I trust you—the woman on the balcony who calls herself an outsider. You won't betray me."
My throat tightened.
"I won't betray you."
"I know. That's why I chose you."
He hung up.
I sat on the sofa, staring out the window.
The New York sky was gray, threatening rain.
My phone rang again.
Unknown number.
My heart clenched.
"Miss Williams, have you made your decision?"
William's voice.
"I still have two days."
"I know, but I saw Pierce's lawyer visit your home. What were you discussing?"
My blood ran cold.
How did he know?
"Is he also trying to help you pay off your debt? How generous. But does he know how much you owe me?"
"He knows."
"Oh? Then how much is he offering? I'll offer more."
"This isn't about money."
"Not about money?"
William laughed—the kind of laugh that sends chills down your spine.
"Darling, everything is about money. Pierce is a businessman. His every decision is for profit. You think he's a knight coming to rescue you?"
"He's just interested in your last name and background, using you to enter high society. A year later he'll abandon you, and you'll be left with nothing."
"But I'm different. I will give you a real life. Mrs. Devonhill—this identity will follow you for a lifetime."
"I don't need it."
"You will need it. Once you discover Pierce's true face, you'll be on your knees begging me to take you in."
"Stop dreaming."
I hung up, my hand trembling.
A few seconds later, a text message came in.
A photo.
Emily walking out of my apartment building, Ethan's car waiting for her at the curb.
There was a line of text below the photo:
"His lawyer, his plan, you're just a pawn. Make a wise choice. Two days left. —W.D."
I threw my phone onto the sofa and walked to the window.
Downstairs, a black SUV was parked at the street corner, its windows tinted black, making it impossible to see inside.
But I knew they were watching me.
William's people.
I stepped back and drew the curtains.
The apartment plunged into darkness.
My phone rang again.
I looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
The phone rang for a long time before I finally answered.
"Annabel."
It wasn't William's voice.
It was a woman—young, with a tearful voice.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Leia. Leia Thompson. I... I was once Devonhill's fiancée."
My hand froze.
"What?"
"Please listen to me. I don't have much time. He'll discover I'm calling you."
Her voice trembled.
"Don't marry him. Don't believe any of his promises. He will destroy you."
"You... how did you get my number?"
"I work in his office. I saw your file. Five million in debt, contractual marriage—my God, it's exactly the same routine he used on me."
"He'll give you all the good things first—mansion, jewelry, wonderful life. But once you marry him, everything changes."
"He'll control everything about you. Your friends. Your work. Your life. You'll become a prisoner."
She was crying.
"It took me three years to escape, and I'm still hiding from him. Please, don't repeat my mistakes."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I don't want to see another woman destroyed by him."
A man's shout came through the phone.
"Leia! Who are you talking to on the phone?"
"I have to go now. Remember what I said—run, while you still can."
The call ended.
I sat there dumbfounded, my phone slipping from my fingers to the floor.
Leia Thompson.
William's former fiancée.
A prisoner for three years.
I rushed to the bathroom and threw up.
*
At eleven that night, I was still sitting in darkness.
No lights on.
Curtains drawn tight.
Just sitting.
Thinking.
Leia's warning echoed in my ears.
"He will turn you into a prisoner."
William's threat loomed like a nightmare.
"You are mine."
But Ethan's words gave me a glimmer of hope.
"You have a choice."
The doorbell rang.
I didn't move.
It rang again.
"Annabel, it's me, Ethan."
I walked to the door and peered through the peephole.
Ethan stood outside, holding a takeout bag.
"I know you're in there. I see the lights are off, but your car is still in the parking lot downstairs."
"Open the door. I brought you dinner. You probably haven't eaten anything today."
I opened the door.
He looked at me and frowned.
"You look terrible."
"Thanks for the compliment."
"May I come in?"
I stepped aside.
Ethan came in and turned on the light.
The sudden light made me squint.
"Did William contact you again?"
I nodded.
"What did he say?"
"He said you're just using me. That you'll abandon me after a year. That I'm just a pawn to you."
Ethan set down the takeout bag and turned to face me.
"He's right."
I froze.
"What?"
"He's right. I am using you. This is a transaction—I pay, you provide a service. After a year, the deal ends and we part ways."
He walked over and stood before me.
"I won't pretend this is a love story. I won't make false promises. This is a business marriage, from beginning to end."
"But."
His gaze was intense.
"The difference is that I clearly told you this was a transaction. You can choose to accept it or reject it."
"While Devonhill—he'll tell you it's love, it's redemption, but in the end, he'll trap you in a cage."
"I give you freedom and choice. He gives you lies and control."
"That's the difference."
I looked into his eyes—deep brown, without deception.
"Today a woman called me. Leia Thompson. She said she was William's former fiancée."
Ethan's expression darkened.
"What did she say?"
"She warned me not to marry William. Said he would turn me into a prisoner. That it took her three years to escape."
"Leia Thompson."
Ethan repeated the name.
"I've heard of her—a socialite from three years ago who suddenly disappeared. So she was trapped by Devonhill."
He pulled out his phone and began searching.
"If she escaped, Devonhill must be furious. He doesn't like losing control."
"So he's desperate to find a replacement. To find you."
My stomach churned again.
"Annabel, look at me."
Ethan gripped my shoulders.
"You're not a chess piece—you're a partner. This year we'll help each other, and after a year, we'll both be free. That's our agreement, and I'll honor it."
"How can you prove it?"
"A prenuptial agreement, in black and white. If I break my promise, you can sue me. My lawyer is a witness, and the law is your protection."
"And what guarantee does Devonhill give you? Nothing at all—just control and threats."
He was right.
William hadn't given me any written agreement, just verbal promises and threats.
But with Ethan, everything was in the contract—clear, specific, and legally protected.
"Eat something. You need to think clearly. Don't make decisions when you're hungry and afraid."
He opened the takeout bag. Chinese food—light dishes, porridge and sides.
"Sit down. Eat first, then think."
I sat down, eating mechanically.
Ethan sat across from me, watching me, not rushing, not pressuring.
Just keeping me company.
After eating, I did feel more clearheaded.
"Ethan."
"Yes?"
"After a year, will you really let me go?"
"Yes."
"What if your business still needs me to pretend to be your wife by then?"
"Then I will propose an extension, offering higher compensation, but the decision is yours. You can refuse."
"What if I want to leave within a year?"
"Give me three months' notice, follow the agreement, and I won't stop you."
"What if William retaliates?"
"I'll handle it. Once you become my wife, attacking you means attacking me. I won't let anyone harm you."
"Why?"
"Because protecting you aligns with my interests. You're my business partner, and I protect my investments."
Cold, but sincere.
I looked at him—this calm, rational man who treated everything as a business transaction.
But at least he was honest.
"I need some time alone."
"Fine. I'm leaving. See you tomorrow."
He stood and walked to the door.
"Ethan."
He turned back.
"Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome. Rest well, and don't let fear make decisions for you."
The door closed.
I was alone again.
But this time, I wasn't as afraid.
I walked to the table, looking at two documents.
William's debt agreement—no way out, only control.
Ethan's prenuptial agreement—clear terms, distinct exit.
Leia's warning echoed in my ears.
"Run, while you still can."
But run where?
I had no money, nowhere to go. Devonhill would find me.
The only way to escape
was to choose another man's protection.
Ethan Pierce.
Cold, rational, but honest businessman.
I picked up a pen and held it over Ethan's prenuptial agreement draft.
I signed my name.
Annabel Williams.
For the last time.
In a week, I would be Annabel Pierce.
My phone rang again.
Williams.
This time, I didn't answer.
I turned off the phone and lay on the bed.
Outside the window, that black SUV was still there.
But I wasn't afraid anymore.
Because I had made a choice.
Not a choice between two devils.
But a choice between a cage and freedom.
I chose freedom.
Even if it cost me a year.
