Chapter 12 012
Rhea's POV
Alejandro rounded the corner, and the cramped hallway felt even smaller the second he stepped into it.
He looked like he was barely holding himself back, stalking toward my cell while a grumpy cop trailed behind him, fumbling with a heavy ring of keys.
Beside him was a guy in a navy suit, clutching a leather briefcase and talking low into his phone.
He was rattling off legal statutes like he was reading a grocery list, sounding bored and dangerous all at once.
He looked exactly like the kind of lawyer you hire when you want to bury someone and get away with it.
"Alejandro..." I whispered again. The relief hit me so hard I felt lightheaded.
He was still in his suit, though it was wrinkled and his tie was yanked loose, like he'd dropped everything the second he got the call.
Just seeing him there made the room stop spinning, even if he looked like he was ready to kill someone.
He looked at me. For a split second, I saw it—the old Jandro. A flicker of softness, a flash of agony at seeing me behind bars. But it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by a mask of hard rock.
The guard reached for his keys to open the cell, but Alejandro held up a hand. "Give us a moment."
The officer grumbled but shuffled off, leaving us in tense silence.
"Ale... thank you," I sobbed, reaching through the bars toward him. "Thank you for coming."
He didn't take my hand. He just stood there, looking down at me like I was a ledger that didn't balance.
"Are you ready to fulfill my demands, Rhea?" he asked finally, voice flat, devoid of emotion.
I just stared at him, my mouth shaking.
"What?" I could barely get the word out.
"You aren't a child," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Everything has a price. You want me to play the hero? Then you play the wife. Those are the terms."
I swallowed hard, the acid in my stomach burning. What was wrong with these men?
First Owen, now Alejandro—both of them dangling my freedom like a prize, and both of them demanding a ring in exchange.
With Owen, it was just a sick obsession, but with Alejandro, it cut deeper. He acted like everything he'd done to me was just a footnote he could delete.
I felt something sharp and angry snap into place, pushing back the fear.
"Go to hell, Alejandro. I am not a piece of property. I'm not marrying you."
He stared at me for a long heartbeat, then a slow, sinister smirk pulled at his mouth.
He gave a small shrug, looking bored.
"Fine. Enjoy the four walls, Rhea. I hear the food is mediocre."
He turned and began to walk away. I watched him go in genuine shock.
He was really leaving. He was going to let Owen win.
I went cold. My heart actually skipped.
Was he really just going to walk out? This wasn't the man I remembered; the one who used to take the hits for me. This was someone else, someone who looked at me and felt absolutely nothing.
The walls felt like they were shrinking. If he left, Owen won. It was that simple. I'd be buried here, and the world would keep moving without me.
"Alejandro, please—wait!"
He stopped, but he didn't turn around. His back was a wall of muscle, rigid and waiting for me to break.
My throat felt like it was closing. I gripped the bars so hard the metal dug into my palms.
The words were stuck, scratching at my throat like thorns.
There was a time I'd wanted this; I'd spent years dreaming about marrying him, picturing a life that actually made sense. But that died the night I saw him outside her patio.
That was the night he stopped being the center of my world and became the poison in it.
Now, I was backed into a corner. I had to choose between his chains or Owen's grave.
"I'll marry you," I forced out.
He didn't move for a second.
When he finally turned, his eyes were bright with a look that told me he'd known exactly how this would end. It was the look of a man who knew he had won before the game even started.
My stomach turned, knowing he held every single card. But he was the only one who could tear down the web Owen had built around me.
"Good girl," he said. His voice dropped low, thick with a kind of dark satisfaction that made my skin crawl.
I looked away, hot tears tracking through the grime on my cheeks. I'd never felt smaller.
He reached back without breaking eye contact, and the lawyer placed a slim folder in his hand.
Alejandro slid it through the bars, along with a heavy, golden pen. The pen felt unnaturally heavy in my hand, like the instrument an angel would use to sign souls over to hell.
"Here," he said.
I took it, my fingers trembling so much the pen rattled against the folder. "What's this?"
"You know how to read, Rhea. Read it."
The cover read: 235 Days: Marriage Contract.
I flipped through the pages, my eyes jumping over the blocks of text. It was all there: a temporary union, duties as a "wife in name only," non-disclosure agreements, and a massive payout at the end. No sex, but a hell of a lot of acting.
If I slipped up, he could sue me into the ground.
"What do you get out of this, Alejandro?" I asked, my voice thin and cracking. "What's the catch?"
He ran his tongue over his teeth—a slow, hungry look that made my blood cold.
"That's not your concern. Your only job is to sign the paper."
I wanted to fight him. I wanted to tell him my life wasn't for sale. But then I looked at the gray walls of the cell and heard Owen's threats echoing in my head.
I didn't have a choice. I signed it, my tears hitting the paper and smearing the ink until my name was a blue blur.
When I handed it back, it felt like I was handing him my soul.
"Officer," Alejandro barked, snatching the folder. "Get her out of there. Now."