"Who are you calling sluts? These are the young master's special guests! Clearly, you lack the ethics and manners required for this job. Gather your things—because as of today, you're fired!" the manager's voice boomed through the reception hall, drawing the attention of all the employees. Some looked at the receptionist with pity in their eyes, while others wore smug smiles, knowing how vile she could be.
"I'm the manager of this hotel, and I was instructed to escort you to your suite. This way, please," he said, gesturing toward Sophie and Daisy, who wore shocked expressions. The two followed the manager through the reception and toward the elevator.
As they stepped out of the elevator and neared the suite, Daisy grabbed Sophie's hand, hesitating at the entrance.
"Soph, are you sure about this? I mean, what if we're walking into a trap? Look at this place—it reeks of money! Who books a suite like this just for a signing?" Daisy's voice was filled with doubt and concern, the questions swirling in her head.
Sophie glanced at the manager, who had been professional but distant, and smiled weakly. "Can you give us a minute?" she asked politely. He nodded and stepped away.
"Daisy, I get it. But we're already here, and there's no turning back now. I promise, nothing bad will happen. Let's just get this over with," Sophie reassured her friend.
The manager returned and ushered them into the room. "Please wait here. The gentleman will join you shortly," he said, before quickly exiting the suite, almost as though he were escaping something.
Inside another room in the suite, a man sat behind a desk, watching the women through security cameras. His eyes lingered on Sophie, his expression unreadable. Her long, dark hair framed her face, cascading over her shoulders and down her back. Her bright green eyes, like the deep, lush color of a forest, contrasted sharply against her fair skin. She seemed nervous, rubbing her arms as though warding off goosebumps and tapping her fingers on her thighs, a habit she had whenever anxiety struck.
"Please stop that, it's getting annoying," Daisy said, glancing at Sophie from her seat on the luxurious sofa.
"Sorry, I'm just nervous," Sophie admitted, looking around the opulent room. A moment later, a man entered, accompanied by two others, the middle one carrying a briefcase like a trophy. He smiled at the women, settling himself in the center of the room.
"Good day, miss. It's a pleasure to finally meet you," the man said, bowing slightly before approaching Sophie and Daisy with the briefcase in hand.
"Please, can we have some privacy? This agreement doesn't involve a third party," he said, gesturing toward Daisy, who immediately stood her ground and crossed her arms.
"I'm not leaving her alone," Daisy said firmly, eyeing the men with suspicion.
"Daisy, it's fine. I can handle this," Sophie said softly, turning to her friend, who hesitated for a moment before finally relenting and leaving the room.
"Is Mr. Shane coming? I'd like to speak with him," Sophie asked, glancing nervously toward the door, half-expecting to see an older man in a wheelchair being pushed inside.
"Mr. Shane won't be able to attend, I'm afraid. He's occupied with other matters," the man explained, setting the briefcase on the desk and opening it to reveal several documents.
"Now, miss, I believe you've read the contract. There's an additional clause stating that the second party—the wife—cannot dissolve the marriage or the contract unless the first party—the husband—agrees to it," the lawyer explained, his gaze steady on Sophie.
"Yes, I'm aware," Sophie replied, her voice firm. She had no choice now. Her sister's life was at stake, and this was her only way to save her.
"Good. Please sign here and here," the man said, pointing to two sets of documents—the marriage contract and the accompanying legal papers.
Sophie picked up the pen and signed her name swiftly on each line. "It's done," she said, setting the pen down with a finality that made her heart race.
"Well then, Miss. It's been a pleasure. Mr. Shane's driver will pick you up tomorrow. As of tomorrow, you'll officially be his wife and move into his residence. The money will be transferred to your account immediately. Congratulations," the man said, standing as he gathered the documents.
Sophie was led out of the room, her mind still processing the whirlwind of events. As the lawyer left, he approached a closed door in the suite, knocking twice before entering.
"It's done, sir," he said. Inside, a man smiled wickedly.
"Very good," he replied, his voice smooth and dark.
---
"Well, what happened?" Daisy asked the moment Sophie stepped out of the suite, her face unreadable.
"It's done. My account now has fifty million more," Sophie said, smiling, but it was a smile tinged with sadness and relief.
"I can finally free Stacy," she added, her voice soft but determined.
---
The next day, a sleek black car pulled up in front of the Adams mansion. "Madame, are you ready to go?" the driver asked, stepping out as Sophie exited the building with her luggage in tow. The driver and bodyguards exchanged a strange look.
"What is it?" Sophie asked, noticing their hesitant glances.
"Mr. Shane has instructed that you bring no luggage," one of the bodyguards explained, avoiding her gaze.
"Why not?" Sophie asked, but none of them answered. She sighed, turning back to drop her bag inside the house. She took a moment to look around the familiar space, memories flooding her mind.
Her thoughts drifted to her sister, the hidden and illegitimate daughter of Richard Adams. Knowing she had secured her sister's future made Sophie feel a sense of peace, even if it had come at the cost of her own freedom. Daisy would take care of Stacy in her absence. That much, she was certain of.
"Let's go," Sophie said quietly as she was ushered into the black Lamborghini, its sleek exterior gleaming in the sunlight.
As she slid into the leather seat, she thought, "Mr. Shane must really love his cars," trying to suppress the growing unease inside her. The car pulled away, and Sophie felt her old life slipping further behind.