That night, sleep refused to come.
Amara lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling as the city lights outside her window flickered faintly against the walls. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. Cassandra had gone home hours earlier, promising to check in first thing in the morning, but the silence left Amara alone with her thoughts.
And her thoughts were merciless.
The black card sat on her bedside table, its matte surface catching the dim light like a silent threat. Lucian Blackwood's name echoed in her mind, heavy and unavoidable. She didn't know his voice well. She didn't know his habits. She didn't even know if he smiled easily—or at all.
Yet tomorrow, the world would know her as his.
She turned onto her side, clutching the pillow tightly. This isn't love, she reminded herself. It's a transaction. A sacrifice.
Still, her chest ached as if she were mourning something she'd never been allowed to have.
Morning came too quickly.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains, forcing her awake. Amara sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Cassandra: Good morning, bride-to-be. Don't panic. I'm coming over in an hour.
Amara let out a shaky breath. Bride-to-be. The words felt foreign, unreal.
She showered slowly, letting the warm water cascade over her skin, hoping it would wash away her nerves. But the anxiety clung stubbornly, curling in her stomach like a knot that refused to loosen.
By the time Cassandra arrived, armed with coffee and determination, Amara was dressed in a simple robe, hair damp and loose around her shoulders.
"Okay," Cassandra announced, setting the cups down. "Today, we breathe. We don't spiral. And we absolutely do not let Lucian Blackwood intimidate you."
Amara gave a weak smile. "You say that like it's possible."
Cassandra smirked. "Trust me. Every man has a weakness. Even powerful ones."
They spent the morning preparing in quiet concentration. Cassandra helped style Amara's hair into soft waves, elegant but not severe. Her makeup was light—natural enough to reflect who she was, refined enough to match the expectations of the Blackwood name.
As Cassandra fastened the final clasp of Amara's dress, she stepped back, studying her friend carefully.
"You look…" she paused, choosing her words, "strong."
Amara looked at her reflection. The woman in the mirror looked calm. Controlled. But beneath the polished surface, her heart was pounding.
"I don't feel strong," she admitted.
"You don't have to," Cassandra said softly. "You just have to stand."
A knock echoed through the apartment.
Amara's breath caught.
"That'll be the car," Cassandra said, her tone gentler now. "Ready?"
No, Amara thought.
But she nodded anyway.
The Blackwood car waited downstairs—sleek, black, and intimidating. The driver opened the door without a word, his expression professional and unreadable.
As Amara stepped inside, Cassandra squeezed her hand. "Text me the moment you can," she whispered. "And remember—this doesn't own you."
Amara nodded, her throat tight, and slid into the back seat.
The door closed.
And just like that, she was alone.
The drive to the Blackwood estate was silent, the city slowly giving way to tall iron gates and manicured lawns that screamed wealth and control. When the car finally stopped, Amara felt her pulse spike.
She stepped out—and froze.
Lucian Blackwood stood at the entrance.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. His dark suit was perfectly tailored, his posture straight, commanding. His presence was suffocating—not loud or aggressive, but controlled, deliberate. His sharp eyes landed on her instantly, scanning her with quiet intensity.
"So," he said calmly, his voice deep and even, "you're ready."
Amara swallowed and lifted her chin. "As ready as I can be."
Something flickered in his gaze—interest, perhaps. Or approval.
"Good," he replied. "Because once you step inside, there's no turning back."
She knew he meant it in every sense.
As she followed him into the estate, the weight of the engagement—and the life awaiting her—settled fully onto her shoulders.
And deep inside, Amara felt it.
This wasn't just a contract anymore.
It was the beginning of something dangerous.