My Marriage Is A Contract

Samantha

One evening never seemed like it could have changed my entire life. Here I am, nevertheless, staring at a face in front of the mirror that seems more haunted than it has ever looked. Four years ago, everything was different. I was distinct. I was hopeful. Dreaming was something I did. My future did not involve always on edge waiting for the next catastrophe to occur.

That predates his arrival into my life.

I let out a strong exhale, running a hand over my son's messy hair as he runs his toy truck on the floor next to me. Ethan: Every time I utter his name, my pulse speeds. My one lighthouse in the gloom, he is the one decent thing that emerged from that evening.

I once more check my reflection and see my hands shaking. I cannot focus on anything else since the call I got this morning still haunts me.

Samantha, we know you.

I had hung up right away, panic knotting my stomach. How would they have located me? I had done all in my ability to get off the radar and bury the past sufficiently deep that nobody would ever find it. Until lately, I felt I had succeeded.

I'm pulled from my ideas as the phone rings suddenly. My pulse leaps from my neck. Looking forward to the worst, I grab it from the counter. Rather, but, I can't identify this number. Not the same one from the past but still foreign.

"Hey?," I asked . My speech was wobbly, showing the underlying terror.

"Samantha Dawson??" One asks in a deep, authoritative voice.

I am hesitant. "Who else is asking?"

Adrian Blackwood here is the name.

I think my heart stops for a moment. Adrian Blackwood. Every business journal, every headline, every piece on billionaires who possess more influence than most people could possibly grasp-the name I have seen on every one of them. the man wielding iron fists over New York's corporate scene. The man I never, in a million years, could have ever imagined talking to.

Why is he giving me calls?

Trying to keep my voice calm, I apologize, Mr. Blackwood. "What can I do for you?"

There's a stop, and I practically hear him measuring me over the phone. At last, his tone was quiet and deliberate, "I have a proposition for you." "One that would be good for us both."

I grimace, uncertainty whirling around the residual terror from the previous call. "I do not understand...."

"I need a wife, Ms. Dawson," Adrian says, his sentences short and direct. And you have to be protected.

My pulse freezes in my throat. How is he aware of that? How informed is he about my needs?

My mind racing, I add gently, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I know about your son," he adds, his voice exact and devoid of feeling. "I understand you run a hazard. For a charge, I can assist you.

My blood is chilly. He refers to Ethan. He is aware of the risk. But really knowledge of him? And from what perspective is he discussing prices?

"I am not sure what you are-"

"Don't play games with me, Samantha," he says, his voice hardening. "I can bring all of this under control. The debt, the dangers, the folks after you... You must, however, agree to my terms.

My heart thumping in my chest, I chew hard. I want nothing to be engaged in whatsoever this is. What decision, though, do I have? On my own, I cannot shield Ethan. I have been trying for years; it is only getting more difficult. 

" What are your terms?" I ask softly; the words hardly come out of my mouth.

"I need a wife," he says, his voice as sharp and frigid as steel. "For appearances," Businesswise. It's only a makeshift arrangement; nothing more.