Adaline walked down the long, silent corridor of the second floor.
The sleeves of the silk shirt hung past her fingertips. She rolled them up, her movements stiff and mechanical.
She reached the heavy oak doors at the end of the hall. The study.
The door was left slightly ajar. Inside, Ferris sat behind a massive mahogany desk. He was flipping through a stack of legal documents, his face an unreadable mask.
Adaline raised her hand. Her knuckles rapped twice against the wood. A dull, hollow sound.
Ferris didn't look up. "Enter."
She pushed the door open. The air inside was thick with the bitter scent of black coffee and the lingering smoke of a Cuban cigar. It felt suffocating.
Ferris picked up a thick bound document and tossed it across the polished wood. It slid rapidly, stopping just inches from the edge of the desk.
He finally raised his eyes. He looked at her as if she were a stain on his rug. "Sign the prenuptial agreement. Don't waste my time."
Adaline walked forward. She picked up the heavy document. She flipped open the first page. The legal jargon was dense, but the core terms were brutally clear.
She had absolutely no right to interfere in his personal life. If they divorced, she would leave with nothing. Zero alimony. Zero assets.
Ferris leaned back in his leather chair. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. He waited for the mask to slip. He waited for the gold digger to throw a tantrum when she realized she wasn't getting a dime of his money.
Adaline didn't blink. She didn't frown. She bypassed the middle pages entirely and flipped straight to the back.
She picked up the heavy Montblanc pen resting on the desk. Without a single second of hesitation, she pressed the nib to the paper and signed her name.
The scratching sound of the pen echoed loudly in the quiet room.
Ferris's eyes narrowed. A flash of genuine surprise crossed his face, but he quickly buried it under a layer of cynicism.
"You really are desperate to latch onto the Finch name," Ferris sneered. "Playing the long game. Impressive acting."
Adaline put the pen down. She ignored his insult. She placed both hands flat on the edge of his desk and leaned forward. She looked straight into his cold eyes.
She swallowed her pride. It tasted like ash. "I signed it. Now, please. I need you to use your network to find a matching bone marrow donor for my mother."
Ferris's expression darkened instantly. The temperature in the room plummeted. To him, this was the real shakedown. This was the greed he had been waiting for.
He stood up abruptly. He planted his hands on the desk, leaning in to match her posture. His massive frame cast a shadow over her.
"The Finch family is not a charity," Ferris said, his voice a lethal rumble. "You get the basic medical bills paid. That was the deal. Nothing more."
Panic seized Adaline's throat. "She doesn't have time! The basic treatment isn't enough. If you just make a few calls-I'll do anything you want."
Ferris caught the word "anything." His eyes dropped to her body, scanning the oversized clothes that hid the bruises he had seen earlier. A cruel, mocking sound left his throat.
"Your used body holds zero appeal to me," Ferris said, his words dripping with malice. "Keep your cheap tricks to yourself."
The words acted like a physical knife plunging into her chest. All the blood drained from Adaline's face, leaving her chalk-white.
She bit down on her lower lip. Hard. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth. She forced her eyes to stay wide open, refusing to let the tears fall in front of him.
Ferris watched her jaw clench. A strange, irritating tightness gripped his own chest, but he ignored it.
"We register at City Hall in three days," Ferris stated coldly. He pressed a button on his intercom. "Alistair. Escort her back to the guest wing. She is not permitted in the master wing."
Alistair appeared in the doorway immediately. He gestured for her to leave.
Adaline turned around. She walked out of the study like a ghost.
The heavy door clicked shut behind her, severing her last lifeline.
She made it back to the freezing guest room. The moment the door closed, her legs gave out. She slid down the wooden panels until she hit the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms.
She stared at the intricate patterns on the Persian rug. The despair in her eyes slowly hardened into a cold, unbreakable ice. She was entirely alone in this house. She had to save her mother herself.
