GOLDEN CONTRACT OF DESIRE

‎It wasn't a question, it was an order. Curiosity, and a strange sense of dependence mixed inside her. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, "Why... why now?"

Jeffery's eyes didn't waver. "Because the world outside doesn't know yet who's safe. And you're not leaving my sight until it does."

Clara exhaled slowly, sinking back against the pillows. She realized the truth behind his words, everything had changed overnight. The news had broken hours ago.

‎Rothwell Enterprises confirmed her engagement to Jeffery Rothwell, the heir to the empire. Headlines flashed across multiple channels:

‎"Jeffery Rothwell Announces Engagement; Empire Secures New Alliance".

‎Details about the wedding were sparse, but speculation spread quickly, and people were already setting dates. Clara's chest tightened, the engagement was official, public, and her life had shifted entirely into Jeffery's hands.

‎Jeffery leaned back in his chair, the cigarette in his hand glowing faintly as he inhaled deeply.

‎Smoke curled around him, wisps floating in the sterile light of the room. He exhaled slowly, letting the haze mix with his thoughts. The step he had taken yesterday had been risky but necessary. Making the engagement public now secured not just the assets, but the entirety of Rothwell influence. It was about power, control, and the certainty that no one could threaten what belonged to him.

‎Clara had become the key to locking the empire together, and Jeffery wasn't leaving anything to chance. He watched her silently, studying her expression. She didn't fully understand what she had signed, he realized.

‎That contract, that engagement, bound her legally and strategically. Outside threats existed, but her life wasn't at risk as long as the public facade held. And if anyone tried to challenge that, Jeffery was more than capable of eliminating the danger. Still, there was a small part of him that noted the fact that she had protected him with her own body yesterday.

‎Risking herself for a man whose empire she barely understood, who valued control above all else. He smirked faintly to himself, it didn't matter. There were always contingencies, always new moves. If she failed to play her part, there were other women. It was business, not sentiment.

‎Clara attempted a weak smile. "So... I'm officially yours now?" she asked, her tone teasing, though the edge of nerves showed. Jeffery didn't answer immediately. He raised his hand slowly, pointing at the window overlooking the city skyline. "You'll perform tonight," he said, his voice low, precise. "But not on any stage, not for anyone else. Only here, only for me. Every Thursday night, like I before."

‎She blinked at him, a mix of amusement and disbelief on her face. She had expected strict instructions, but this level of control surprised her. Still, she felt compelled to comply. Play the part of the perfect bride, the contract wife. For now, she would oblige. She lay back, letting the room's quiet settle over her.

‎The nurse returned around evening time to check her vitals and ensuring every tool was in place.

‎Jeffery only observed without interference, his mind already moving ahead. Outside the room, he knew eyes were watching, whispers carried by those who wanted leverage. He wasn't worried. Every angle had been considered including the possible outcome.

‎Clara rested, unaware of how much power was converging around her. He had made sure of it.

‎Meanwhile, in another part of the city, his sister moved through an entirely different world. Shopping bags weighed down her arms, designer labels reflecting in the glass walls of the boutique. She laughed with her friends, a clear, careless sound that masked her darker intent.

‎Later, champagne in hand, she lounged beside her private pool at home, the evening lights casting glitter across the water. Her mind, however, was far from the parties or the shopping. She thought of Jeffery, of Clara, of the life that now belonged legally and publicly to him. Her lips curved into a thin smile. One day, she told herself, Clara would be removed. She would have Jeffery for herself.

‎Back at Jeffery's mansion, Logan returned with groceries balanced in his hands. Jeffery had sent him earlier.

‎Jeffery entered the room where Clara is resting. "Come," he said simply. Clara hesitated, still in small pains from her injuries, but obeyed. She knew there was no room for defiance here.

‎Jeffery gestured toward the kitchen area. "Make something to eat," he ordered. His tone carried no warmth, no concern. He didn't care that she was recovering, that her body ached, or that she still felt weak. She was to perform the task because he demanded it. Logan had prepared meals before, followed instructions precisely, but now it was Clara's turn.

‎Her fingers trembled slightly as she arranged ingredients on the counter, she feels weak. She had learned to cook, but this was no leisurely task. Every thing is being monitored.