Chapter 9
"The hell do you mean you're getting married to Lucien?" Ryan shouted, pacing the room like a storm about to break.
"Yes… I don't know, but it was my only choice," Elara said quietly.
"Girl, that's bullshit! You didn't even tell anyone. Taking a loan would've been way better than marrying that man."
"And how was I supposed to pay it back, Ryan?" Elara shot back, anger flaring through her voice.
Ryan stopped pacing, her lips pressed into a thin line.
"If I don't help them, no one will," Elara continued, her voice shaking. "We've tried everything—we're stuck. I know it's stupid, but it would be even more stupid if I let them die just like that. You heard the doctor that night. They can't do anything for us anymore… no one can."
Her voice broke, and the tears came in heavy drops. She fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably.
Ryan's anger melted away. She hurried over, crouching beside her and pulling her into her arms, running her hand gently through Elara's hair.
"Please… don't tell Noah," Elara whispered between sobs.
"No problem," Ryan murmured softly, resting her chin on Elara's head.
---
The next morning, Elara arrived at the address Lucien's assistant had sent — a quiet, private courthouse tucked on Briarwood Lane, far from the city's noise. Ryan came along, partly as her witness, partly because Elara couldn't face this alone.
Inside, the room was simple and neat. An elderly man sat behind a heavy oak desk, his round glasses slipping down his nose. His brown suit looked older than he was.
"Good morning, beautiful ladies," he said kindly. "Which of you is Miss Elara Hart?"
"I am," Elara replied, raising her hand slightly.
"Please, have a seat, dear."
Two chairs were placed in front of the desk — one for her, and, she guessed, one for Lucien. Ryan stood behind her, arms crossed.
Moments later, the same man from the bus stop entered, followed by Lucien himself.
"Good day, Mr. Voss," the old man greeted. Lucien gave only a curt nod in reply.
The man who escorted him stepped back outside.
"Lucien," Ryan said sharply, folding her arms.
Lucien turned at the sound of her voice. "Ryan?"
He remembered her instantly. Elara's best friend — the one who always tried to keep them apart, who talked too much, who never hid how little she liked him. He was almost surprised they were still friends.
"I said family," Lucien said coolly, turning back to the officiant.
"She is my family," Elara said firmly without meeting his eyes.
Lucien said nothing more.
---
The signing went quickly.
"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Voss," the old man said with a proud smile.
The words made Elara's stomach twist. She could barely breathe, let alone smile. Lucien's face remained unreadable, his tone clipped and formal.
"My driver will follow you to collect your things and take you to the house," he said as they stepped outside. "I won't be coming home tonight."
"Am I—" she began, but Lucien was already walking away toward his car.
Ryan rolled her eyes. "Well, I guess he's still the same arrogant Lucien."
"Tell me about it," Elara muttered.
---
The driver, dropped Ryan off first, then took Elara home. She entered her apartment, shut the door, and slid down against it, her body limp.
What had her life become?
She stared at the small apartment that had once been her safe space. Now she was moving into a mansion with a man who didn't love her — a man who had bought her with his money.
She pushed herself up, refusing to cry again. Quickly, she packed her things into two suitcases, leaving behind a few clothes she'd come back for someday.
Outside, the driver was waiting patiently by the car.
"What's your name, sir—or am I not allowed to know that?" she asked as he lifted her bags into the trunk.
"My name's Josh, Mrs. Voss."
Elara winced slightly at the title. "You can call me Elara."
"I'm not allowed to do that, ma'am."
"I insist, Mr. Josh," she said with a faint smile.
He said nothing more, only opened the door for her and walked around to the driver's side.
---
The drive took nearly two hours. When they finally pulled up, Elara's breath caught in her throat.
Lucien's house wasn't a house—it was an estate. A tall wrought-iron gate opened into a long driveway lined with trimmed hedges and glowing lights. The mansion itself was sleek and modern, glass and stone rising in elegant symmetry. Every corner spoke of wealth and taste — cold, sophisticated, and precise, just like him.
Josh carried her bags inside. "Let me show you to your room, ma'am," he said.
She followed him down a polished hallway until they reached a modest room.
It was small — simple white walls, a soft bed, a vanity, and a wardrobe.
"This was definitely meant for one of the staff," she muttered under her breath.
Josh set the suitcases down and gave a polite nod before leaving.
"At least the mattress is soft," she said quietly, sitting down and brushing her hand across the sheets.
At least she wouldn't have to see his face tonight.
---
Hours later, hunger gnawed at her. No one had brought her food, and she had no idea where the kitchen was. After pacing for several minutes, she decided to explore.
She was in her nightgown, tiptoeing down the enormous, unfamiliar hall when she heard a gentle, female voice humming.
She followed the sound and stopped at a wide, polished wooden door. Pushing it open gently, she saw an older woman stirring something on a stove. It was the kitchen, vast and professional. The woman hadn't noticed her.
"Excuse me?" Elara said softly.
The woman jumped, hand flying to her chest. "Oh my goodness! Who are you?"
"Maggie?" Elara asked, shocked.
It was Lucien's nanny, the kind woman who used to bake muffins for them both, who treated them like her own grandchildren, and who had always told little Elara that Lucien felt the same way about her. Elara hadn't seen her since she was a child.
"Elara, darling!" Maggie cried, dropping her spoon and rushing forward.
Elara hugged her fiercely, holding onto a ghost of her past. Maggie pulled back, scanning Elara's face. "Oh, my goodness, you're so much bigger now! What are you doing here? How are your parents?"
Tears immediately filled Elara's eyes again. "Oh, dear. Let's go sit," Maggie said, taking her hand and leading her to a cozy nook in the living room.
"I thought I'd never see you again," Elara whispered, wiping her tears.
"Oh, dear, do tell me everything."
"I... I'm married to Lucien."
"Married?" Maggie's face was a mixture of confusion and astonishment.
"Yes. It's... it's a contract marriage," Elara confessed, lowering her head. "He asked me to marry him in exchange for his help."
Maggie's hand went to her mouth. Elara narrated everything—the accident, her father's death, the hospital, the debt, the desperation. By the end, it was Maggie who was wiping tears. Elara put her now-finished plate of food aside.
"You're so strong, dear," Maggie said softly. "He never told me. He usually told me everything, especially the things that bothered him. I would have advised him to find another way."
"It's fine, Maggie. I'll just have to get used to it."
"Are you the only one staying with him in this house?" Elara asked.
"Yes. I've been with him since. He actually helped me after my husband passed away," Maggie said.
"Oh, Maggie, I'm so sorry for your loss."
"It's fine," she said with a faint smile. "That means his parents stay somewhere else, then?" Elara asked.
"His mother passed away not too long after you and your parents moved," Maggie's voice grew somber.
"His dad?."
"He left. No one knows where he went. Lucien refused to ever bring him up. After his mother died, I left too, eventually. I tried to stay for him, but he didn't want anyone around him. Years later, I met him at the supermarket, told him I was struggling to make ends meet, and he took me in. I'm now the house chef and chief housekeeper."
"Oh, my... he must have gone through so much," Elara muttered, finally understanding the source of his coldness.
"He missed you so much when you left," Maggie said, looking at Elara.
"No, he didn't," Elara said after a long pause. "He pushed me away. He left me all alone, knowing he was all I had, all I ever wanted."
"Believe my words, child," Maggie insisted, placing a comforting hand on Elara's. "It's been a long day. Why don't you get some rest? If you need anything at all, just call me.
"Good night, El," she said, before leaving the room.
Elara remained seated, her mind overwhelmed by the crushing weight of the day and the surprising, painful new information about the boy who became the man who bought her. After a long while, she returned to her small, plain room, locked the door, and tucked herself into the soft bed, utterly unable to fall asleep.