After I got to the car and got inside, “drive.” I said.

“Home.” The driver looked back at me.

"Take me to The Rosehill Residence," I told the driver my voice was low but firm.

He gave a silent nod and turned the car toward the outskirts of the city, toward the place where I’d hidden the last piece of my broken heart. As the sleek black vehicle hummed along the road, I stared out the window, watching the city blur past. Towering buildings gave way to trees, silence, and eventually, the white brick walls of the care home where she now lived.

Rosehill. It sounded soft, almost romantic, but the reality was sterile and quiet, swears, a quiet that screamed.

The gates opened, and we pulled up in front of the main entrance. I stepped out into the pale morning light, my heels clicking on the stone path as I walked to the front doors.

The air inside smelled faintly of antiseptic and lavender. A nurse greeted me with a polite smile and led me down a hallway lined with oil paintings and flowers that tried too hard to mask the decay.

Her room was at the end of the hall.

She was sitting by the window, wrapped in a soft gray cardigan, her eyes vacant as they scanned the garden beyond the glass. Her once-black hair was streaked with silver now, and though her face still held the elegance of the woman I used to look up to, her gaze was distant. Almost lost.

“Hi, Mom,” I whispered, forcing a smile as I stepped into the room.

She didn’t respond, didn’t even blink. But I knew she heard me. I moved closer, kneeling beside her chair, placing a gentle hand on her thin wrist.

“I’m going to fix everything,” I said quietly. “They took everything from us, but I’ll get it back. I swear. Dad didn’t deserve what they did to him. And you... you deserve more than this.”

Her gaze didn’t shift, but I saw the shimmer of tears gather at the corners of her eyes. No words. Just that silent, agonizing acknowledgment.

I pressed my forehead gently against her arm, swallowing the ache in my throat. “You’ll be proud of me. Even if I have to burn for it.” She still said nothing.

“I don't know what I'm doing mom, I…” with tears pricking from the side of my eyes I paused.

“I would avenge our family.”

Minutes passed before I rose and kissed her forehead. Then I turned and walked away without looking back, because if I did, I knew I’d break.

“I’m ready,” immediately after I got back into the car, I dialed the number I had memorized and said.

“The contract is waiting.”

There was a brief pause before Dominic’s unbothered voice came through. Oh he would be bothered when I'm done.

---

The moment I stepped out of the car, a familiar weight settled over my shoulders, the rage, bitterness, exhaustion. The rain that had long shown signs had finally begun, a soft drizzle that misted the air and glazed the ground in silver.

I walked inside this God forsaken home again and the scent of polished wood and leather clung to everything. The house was beautiful, yes. But it wasn’t a home. It was a monument to legacy and ego. And soon, it would be a prison I'd bring down.

Dominic Blackthorne stood waiting at the foot of the stairs, just as sharp as ever in a charcoal suit that looked like it had been stitched directly onto his frame. His expression was unreadable, eyes were dark, posture relaxed, but somehow… threatening.

“You’re here,” he said, as if I had any other choice.

“I’m here,” I answered, setting my jaw. “Let’s get this over with.”

Without another word, he turned and led me toward the study.

I walked through hallways lined with old oil paintings and modern security cameras, the kind of contrast only the ultra-wealthy could pull off. The floor beneath my heels gleamed.

The study was exactly what I imagined: all mahogany and leather, dark shelves full of books I doubted he ever read. A single thick folder rested on the massive desk like a loaded gun.

Dominic moved behind the desk with calculated ease. I stayed standing.

“One year marriage, no romantic involvement, no interference in our businesses, no secrets, swears, do not come anywhere near me.” he said sliding the contract toward me.

“No loopholes?” I asked, arching a brow.

His lips barely twitched. “None.”

I stared at the document as I felt my stomach twisting.

“I always thought you were gay,” I said bluntly.

Something flickered in his eyes. No offense, but amusement.

“That’s what everyone thinks,” he replied. “But I’m full of surprises.”

My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the pen the lawyer handed me. She was a slim, sharp woman in her forties who smelled like expensive perfume and carried the poise of someone who'd drafted a hundred contracts like this one. Just another business day.

I signed slow, and carefully as if each stroke of ink might bleed.

When I was done, I slid the pen back and watched as Dominic added his signature beneath mine.

I stood, adjusting my blazer. “Let me make one thing clear this marriage is a business transaction. I hate you, Dominic. Don’t expect anything else.”

He leaned back in his chair, smirking slightly. “I’m keeping track. And I’ll make sure to return the favor.”

Before I could respond, his phone buzzed on the desk. He glanced at it, his jaw tightening.

“I have to take this,” he said rising his hand. “Wait here.”

He left me alone with the silence I stared at the contract. Every word felt like a sentence. A year, I reminded myself. Just one year.

Dominic returned a few minutes later, his expression grim.

“There’s been a development,” he said. “My grandmother, Matilda Blackthorne, just announced our engagement.”

I blinked. “She what?”

“She went to the public, press release, board meeting, the e works.”

“She didn’t even tell us? Me?” My voice rose slightly in disbelief.

“She doesn’t need to. She thinks it will calm the investors and protect the brand. She’s already planning the wedding.”

I shook my head. “This isn’t a game.”

“Exactly,” he said coldly. “And now we play by her rules.”

The anger boiled in my chest, but I pushed it down. “Fine. But don’t think for one second this makes things easier.”

“One year, Olivia,” he said with his voice quieter now. “Then we’re done.”

Done.

I followed him up a long staircase to the guest wing, where he showed me to my new room. It was beautiful. Immaculate and empty.

Before he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, his back to me.

“Set your boundaries,” he said. “Because I’ll be setting mine.”

I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.

The door shut behind him with a soft click.

I sat on the edge of the pristine bed, staring at the ceiling. Somewhere below me, Dominic Blackthorne was likely pouring a drink, already moving on to his next calculated decision.

And I was up here, the heiress of a ruined legacy, alone in a stranger’s mansion… and officially, his wife-to-be.

My war had finally begun.