Chapter Four Sienna’s Pov

I sat alone in my small car parked outside our office building, staring at the numbers printed on the paper until my eyes went blurry. Every single problem my family had—the back rent, the unpaid supplier bills, and the skyrocketing cost of my mother's life-saving treatments—was right there on that page, ready to be solved. All I had to do was say yes to a man who treated me like dirt. "You are losing your mind, Sienna," I whispered to myself, shaking my head as hot tears spilled over my cheeks. "You cannot marry Dominic Kane. You hate him. He is arrogant, cold, and cruel." Yet, no matter how many times I told myself that, the pink eviction notice flashed in my mind like a warning siren. When I finally walked into our small office later that afternoon, I tried my absolute best to wipe the tears from my face and put on a brave smile. But you can never truly hide things from a mother who has known you your whole life. Mom was sitting at her desk, coughing softly into a tissue. When she looked up and saw me, her tired eyes filled with deep worry. "Sienna, sweetheart, you look pale," Mom said, her voice shaking slightly as she lowered her tissue. "What is wrong? Did something else happen with the business?" "No, Mom, nothing is wrong," I lied quickly, rushing over to grab a glass of water for her. My hands shook so badly that the water sloshed over the rim of the glass. "Everything is under control. I'm just a little tired, that's all." Mom stared at me closely, a sad, knowing look in her eyes. "You don't have to carry the whole world on your shoulders by yourself, you know. We are a team." Her words cut straight through my heart. A team. If she knew that I was sitting in a car thinking about selling a year of my life to a billionaire just to pay for her medicine, she would be heartbroken. I couldn't tell her. I couldn't let her know that the man who had publicly humiliated me on the news was also the only person who could save us. "I know, Mom," I said softly, forcing my voice to stay steady as I kissed her forehead. "Just trust me. I'm going to fix everything." That night, I locked myself in my bedroom and went to war. I pulled out my laptop and frantically started calling every single business contact I had left. I begged, I pleaded, and I asked for advance payments on future projects that didn't even exist yet. Every single person said no. I applied online for emergency small business loans, but because of the terrible news articles blaming me for the gala disaster, my applications were instantly rejected by automated computer systems. Desperate, I even called a local pawn shop to see how much money we could get for our commercial catering equipment, but the amount they offered wouldn't even cover one month of our office rent. Option after option disappeared, leaving me standing at the edge of a dark cliff with nowhere else to run. At exactly eight o'clock, my phone rang. I looked down at the screen and saw an unknown number flashing brightly in the dark room. My heart gave a heavy thump against my ribs. I already knew who it was. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I swiped the screen and held the phone up to my ear. "I told you today in your office that I am not interested," I said coldly before he could even speak. "I am not going to be your obedient, quiet little wife, Dominic. Find someone else to play your sick games with." There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line, followed by the deep, calm sound of his voice. "I don't need an obedient wife, Sienna," Dominic replied smoothly, his tone completely steady. "I have plenty of people who obey me. That is not what I am asking for." "Then what are you asking for?" I snapped, gripping the edge of my desk. "You want someone to stand next to you at fancy parties, smile for cameras, and pretend everything is wonderful in your perfect little world. Well, guess what? I have pride. If you expect me to step foot into your world, you are going to have to treat me with actual human respect." I held my breath after saying those words. I fully expected him to laugh at me, to hang up the phone, or to threaten to ruin my family business even faster. Instead, there was a long pause. "Agreed," Dominic said softly. My eyes went wide. "What?" "If you agree to the arrangement, I will treat you with respect," Dominic repeated, his voice surprisingly serious. "I will not insult you, and I will protect your privacy as much as my own. Check your email, Sienna. I just had Marcus send you the official contract. Read the terms for yourself." Before I could say another word, the line went dead. He hung up. My hands trembling, I flipped open my laptop and refreshed my inbox. A new email sat at the very top from Kane International legal department. Subject: Marriage Agreement - Draft. I clicked on the file and started reading through the legal paragraphs. The terms were laid out in cold, precise language. The marriage would legally last for exactly one year. We would live together in his penthouse apartment to keep up appearances for the public and his family. We had to attend designated high-society events side by side. And neither of us was allowed to interfere in the other’s personal or professional life. Then my eyes locked onto the final clause near the bottom of the page. I read the sentences out loud, my voice barely a whisper in the quiet room. Neither party is permitted to develop romantic expectations toward the other. The arrangement is strictly professional, contractual, and temporary. A harsh, bitter laugh burst out of my throat. Romantic expectations? As if I could ever look at a cold, arrogant billionaire who treated people like chess pieces and feel a single spark of romance. It was ridiculous. It was absurd. It sounded like a business merger for a corporate company, not a marriage. My finger hovered over the screen, ready to close the document and tell him to go to hell once and for all. Then, my eyes drifted down to the financial compensation section at the very bottom of the contract. The numbers glowed brightly against the white screen. It was enough money to clear every single debt, save our family business, and fund my mom's medical treatments for years without a single worry. It was freedom. It was survival. My breath caught in my throat, and the bitter laugh faded away, replaced by a heavy, terrifying realization. Dominic Kane had built a golden cage, and he had left the door wide open. All I had to do was step inside.