Chapter 10: Chapter 9
My day was basically a compilation of stress: I arrived late at the company, got scolded by Philip for being late, tried to focus on piles of reports — but I could only think about that damn diamond ring and the man who thinks he owns the world just because he runs a luxury hotel.
I spent the entire shift living off coffee and listening to Philip’s disgusting jokes toward the secretary. I tried to ignore it, but I’ll admit I fantasized for a second about shoving his head into the coffee machine.
It was there, in the middle of boredom mixed with indignation, that the idea hit me:
If I was forced to sign a contract, he could be forced to sign one too.
I searched for paper but, of course, my desk looked like a desert. All I found was a napkin with a dried coffee stain. Perfect.
When the workday finally ended, I headed straight down the main street — no shortcuts today, and keeping an eye on every corner. Luckily, no one was following me.
I arrived at my apartment, climbed the stairs (because elevators are a luxury, right?), and dug around in my bag for my key. As soon as I unlocked the door and turned on the light—
“Jesus!” I jump back. “What the hell?!”
Dominic Moretti is sitting on my couch like he owns my rent. Perfectly composed, one leg crossed, and that cold stare like I’d just shown up late to my own execution.
“What are you doing here? You broke into my apartment! I can have you arrested, you know?”
He stands up slowly, his eyes trailing from my face to my shoes.
“Arrest me? You’re my wife.”
“Fake wife,” I correct, eyes blazing.
“Why didn’t you obey me?”
“Because I’m not your employee.” I cross my arms. “Simple.”
“It seems you still don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
“And should I?”
He smiles — the kind of smile that comes with silent destruction.
“You’ll find out. Very soon. Now, let’s go.”
“I’ll only go if you read my contract.”
He raises an eyebrow, visibly surprised. The surprise lasts two seconds before turning into a lazy, sarcastic smile.
“Show me then, Mrs. Moretti… your contract.”
I pull the napkin from my bag and hand it to him. He grabs it with two fingers, like it’s radioactive. The disgust on his face is obvious.
“This is your contract?”
“Exactly.”
“One word: pity.”
“I didn’t have time to print it on A4 paper in Times New Roman, okay? Just read it.”
Article 1: Personal Autonomy
The contractor (aka ME) will not abandon her routine or personal life without prior consent. This includes but is not limited to: work, personal contacts, hobbies, and breathing freely without authorization.
Article 2: Thug-Free Zone
The use of henchmen, bodyguards, or “guard dogs” as coercion, surveillance, or stalking is strictly prohibited. The contractor is not an object.
Article 3: Personal Space
The contractor will have her own bedroom, with a door, lock, and privacy.
Article 4: Mutual Respect
No commanding orders, mocking nicknames, or threatening silence.
Article 5: Excess Limit
Absurd jewelry, extravagant shopping, and surreal expenses are unnecessary.
Dominic lets out a short, almost inaudible laugh. His eyes show he’s enjoying this.
“First,” he says, voice low and cold, “I couldn’t care less about your personal life. Second: threatening me with the police, Chloe? Really? Is that all you’ve got? I expected more from you. Third,” he steps closer, “if I want you to sleep in the same bed as me, that will happen. Whether you want it or not — and I have many ways to ensure it. Fourth: I might consider some clauses… maybe. And lastly: I spend my money however I damn please. And you are definitely not the one to tell me otherwise.” Dominic pulls the rings from his pocket.
Before I can step back, he grabs my hand firmly and slides the ring on.
“Now let’s go.”
“I didn’t pack.”
“Don’t worry. I already did that for you.”
“You what?!”
“Besides… you need new clothes.”
“HEY!”
“I told the truth. You carry my name now, you have to live up to it — even in the way you dress.”
Dominic is already turning toward the exit like the conversation is over.
“Hey! Wait!” I step forward, napkin still in hand. “You didn’t sign my contract!”
He doesn’t even turn, just says in that dragged, mocking tone:
“That is a dirty napkin, Chloe. Not a contract.”
“Sign it.” I shove my hand out toward him. “I don’t trust you.”
Dominic stops, finally turning. His eyes narrow briefly, and a smug smile appears.
“And keep it that way. Never trust me.”
He pauses dramatically, then takes two slow steps toward me.
“But since you insist…”
He approaches, pulls a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer — of course the pen is fancy — takes the napkin from my hand by the very edge, wrinkling his nose, and signs it carefully, the slanted handwriting flawless. Like a signature made by an artist.
Of course. Even his signature on a coffee-stained napkin is annoyingly elegant.
“Happy?”
“More or less.”
“Great.” He puts the pen away and turns again toward the door. “No more stalling. Let’s go.”
He opens the door… and comes face-to-face with the nightmare in human form: the building manager. Holding yet another bill with that look of “I have a charge with your name on it.”
“Oh no…” I mutter.
Dominic grabs the paper from his hand before I can react. I rush to him, trying to snatch the bill, but he lifts his arm, keeping it easily out of reach. Damn his 1.92 meters of pure arrogance.
“You can’t!” I grumble, jumping slightly, but he doesn’t even budge.
“I can. It’s in the contract: your problems are now my problems.” He waves the bill in my face. “And this, sweetheart… is a big problem.”
“I’ll pay it!”
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow, analyzing me like a bizarre exhibit. “Because from what I saw… you’re collecting these now.”
“W-what do you mean ‘from what you saw’? You… you looked through my bills?!”
“I’m your husband. I have rights.”
“Fake husband!” I hiss, fists clenched. “Convenient part to forget, huh?”
He ignores me entirely, turning to the manager, who’s still there, unsure if he should stay or run for his life.
“Do you accept card?”
“Uh… yes, just a moment!” the manager says, eyes shining like he just won the lottery, practically trotting away to get the card machine.
I stand there, staring at Dominic holding the bill.