The Contracted Bride
Talia Quinn, 23. No criminal record. No scandals. Quiet. Submissive. And willing.
That's what the file said. That's why Damon Thorne chose her.
"You understand the conditions?" He asked, seated across from her in a glass - walled office high above the city.
His tone was indifferent, as though he were hiring a secretary, not a wife.
Talia nodded, voice soft. "Yes."
"No expectations," Damon continued, "No emotions. No interference in my personal life. You'll live with me, attend events when required. Once you give birth to an heir, the marriage ends. You walk away with the agreed sum."
Talia's fingers curled in her lap. She tried not to flinch at heir.
"Understood," she said, barely above a whisper.
He signed the contract first, then slid the pen to her.
Talia Quinn had loved Damon Thorne since the day he defended her in highschool. He hadn't remembered her then- and he certainly didn't now.
She had been invisible to him for years.
And now, she'd agreed to be his wife.
Not because he loved her.
Not because she believed in fairy tales.
But because she had nothing lose.
"Welcome to the family," Damon said, rising to his full height. Cold. Controlled. Merciless.
Talia stood too, her heart already aching.
"Thank you," she replied.
It was the beginning of a marriage that would break her.
A love that would never be returned.
And a silence that would bury her alive - until one day, it wouldn't.
Until one day... she would rise.