Then he guides me toward a table where documents are already laid out.
Like my life is a file that’s been prepared.
I scan the crowd again and am met with a mix of expressions.
What do they think about this? About me?
“Sit,” Julian says.
So I do.
He sits beside me, not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body, close enough that I catch his scent, clean, expensive, something warm underneath the sharpness, and it makes my stomach flip with the worst kind of confusion.
I pick up the contract.
My eyes skim the first page even though I already know what’s in it.
Because reading it again is the only way I can keep from feeling the room watching me like a courtroom.
I see my edits.
My red lines.
The removed sections.
The money bonuses gone, the clause I demanded be stripped because I refused to become a reward system. No “per year after three.” No “per child.”
The housing section clarified.
The exit clause: mutual agreement only, except for breaches.
The fidelity clause: explicit. For both of us.
The bed clause: written so bluntly that it makes my cheeks heat. It's not romantic, not tender, just… contractual.
I swallow and keep reading.
Julian’s voice is low beside me. “Any additional changes?”
I glance at him, then back down. “No.”
Theo shifts and I feel his eyes on me, like he wants to say something and doesn’t know how.
Julian signs first.
No hesitation. No pause.
His signature is clean. Confident.
Then he slides the pen toward me.
My hands shake.
I make myself pick it up anyway.
I sign.
The second my name hits the page, it feels like a door has closed behind me.
