Harper.
Die. Or become his property.
It wasn’t a choice. It was an execution postponed. My old life, my real life, was already gone. This body, this face, was just a vessel. A tool. And a tool was meant to be used.
I looked into his dark, unreadable eyes and gave a single, slow nod.
His lips curved into a faint, humorless smile. “A wise decision, Fiona. Get in the car. We’ll discuss the terms of your employment.”
He turned his back on me, expecting me to follow like a beaten dog. The arrogance of it was breathtaking. It was the same arrogance Caleb had worn like a second skin.
But I wasn’t a beaten dog. I was a ghost with nothing left to lose.
I didn’t move. I stood my ground on the dirty pavement.
He stopped at the open car door and looked back, one eyebrow raised in question. The look was clear. *Obey.*
I shook my head. Just once.
Amusement flickered in his eyes, replacing the cold command. “You have a counter offer?”
I nodded again.
He seemed genuinely intrigued now. He gestured for me to continue, the silence stretching between us.
How could I explain? I had no voice. I frantically looked around for something, anything to write with. A piece of charcoal, a pen, anything.
He watched my desperate search with a detached curiosity. Finally, he seemed to take pity on me. Or perhaps he was just impatient.
He pulled a sleek, black phone from his suit jacket. “Can you type?”
I nodded, my heart starting to pound with a new, dangerous kind of energy. An idea was forming, sharp and brilliant and terrifying.
He walked back to me and held out the phone. I took it, my slender fingers a stark contrast against the dark metal. He had unlocked it and opened a blank notes app.
My fingers flew across the screen. I didn’t have to think. The words were already there, seared into my soul.
*I know who you are. Damien Cross.*
I showed him the screen. His expression didn’t change, but a new stillness came over him. A predator’s focus.
I typed again.
*And I know your biggest rival. Caleb Thorne.*
I held it up. This time, I saw a flicker. A muscle in his jaw tightened. I had his full attention.
“What about him?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
My thumbs moved, swift and sure.
*You want repayment for a data chip. I’m offering you something better. I’m offering you his complete and utter ruin. He took everything from me. I want revenge. And you want him crushed. We want the same thing.*
He read the words, his eyes scanning them twice. He was silent for a long moment.
“Revenge is a messy, emotional motive,” he said finally. “I prefer profit.”
I smiled then, a cold, sharp smile that didn’t belong on this beautiful face. It felt more like my own than anything else had since I woke up.
I typed.
*What if I can give you both?*
“I’m listening,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. The posture was casual, but his eyes were sharp, calculating.
This was it. The moment that would decide everything.
*You need to get close to him. Inside his world. I can be your way in. I have the face for it. I can get his attention. I can be your perfect weapon.*
He laughed, a short, harsh sound. “A weapon? You’re a mute, penniless woman I just pulled out of a gutter. Thorne would eat you alive.”
My fingers were a blur.
*He won’t if I’m with you. Make me your fiancée.*
He stared at the word on the screen. Fiancée.
He looked from the phone to my face, really looking at me this time. He was assessing, weighing, measuring. I let him. I met his gaze without flinching, pouring all the rage and determination of my stolen life into my eyes.
“A fiancée,” he repeated, tasting the word. “And what do I get out of this arrangement? Besides the pleasure of your silent company.”
*You get a partner who hates him as much as you do. You get a key to unlock his world. You get to watch your enemy burn while a beautiful woman hangs on your arm. What more could you want?*
He almost smiled. “You have nerve. I’ll give you that.”
“But why would I need a fiancée?” he asked, probing for weakness. “I have no trouble securing companionship.”
I had to gamble. I had to guess his motives. A man like this, a man of power and legacy…
*Business. It’s always about business. A merger. An acquisition. A family clause. A powerful man like you always has a reason to project an image of stability.*
His eyes narrowed. I had hit a nerve. I knew it.
He was silent for a full minute. The city noise seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in that grimy alley, a silent woman and the devil himself, negotiating a soul.
“My grandfather’s trust,” he said finally, his voice soft. “It contains a legacy clause. To unlock the final controlling shares of the family conglomerate, I need to be married by my next birthday. A stable, traditional marriage.”
My silent laugh was a flash in my eyes.
“He was an old fashioned man,” Damien continued, a hint of disdain in his tone. “He believed a wife would temper my… aggressive tendencies.”
*And you need a wife who won’t talk back? Who won’t have opinions or demands? A beautiful ornament to sit beside you at dinner parties? I am perfect for you.*
“Perfect,” he mused. “You are certainly a blank slate. Fiona Steel has no family, no connections, no past that can’t be erased and rewritten. You are, for all intents and purposes, a ghost.”
He took a step closer, his gaze intense.
“This is the deal, then,” he said, laying out his own terms now. “You will live in my house. You will wear the clothes I buy you. You will go where I tell you to go and speak to whomever I approve. You will play the part of the adoring, silent fiancée flawlessly. In public, you are mine. In private, you are my asset. Your life, your body, everything about you belongs to me until Caleb Thorne is destroyed and my grandfather’s shares are secure.”
He paused, his eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation.
“In return,” he continued, “I will give you a front row seat to the destruction of the man you hate. I will provide the resources. The money. The power. I will give you the gun, and I will aim it. But you, Fiona, you will be the one to pull the trigger.”
This was it. The devil’s bargain. My soul for my revenge.
I didn’t even have to think about it.
I deleted all the text on his phone, leaving the screen blank. Then, I typed a single word.
*Deal.*
I handed the phone back to him. Our fingers brushed. A strange jolt, like electricity, passed between us.
He took the phone, his eyes locked on mine. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. It was the most dangerous and exhilarating thing I had ever seen.
“Welcome to the family, my dear,” Damien Cross said.
He held the car door open for me. This time, I got in.
