These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over his head, nearly suffocating Kaeya. Her already pale face instantly lost the last trace of color. This was neither a favor nor a temporary expedient, but a blatant transaction. And she is the item that was sold at a marked price and handed over to her.

"What...... Fifty million dollars? Her voice was as delicate as a thread.

A low, utterly amused laugh escaped Duncan's lips. He skillfully and silently operated the wheelchair, bringing the two closer together. As he drew nearer, the pure presence radiating from him turned into a suffocating pressure.

He threw a folder with a leather cover onto the discerning desk and pushed it toward her. "Linwood Power's loan agreement. That is, your purchase price. ”

Kaeya stared intently at the document. On it was the name of her father's company—the one forcibly taken from his hands—and below was Richard Linwood's powerful signature. The world seemed to tilt at that moment, the words on the paper twisted into meaningless blocks of color, and her mind went blank.

Duncan seemed to enjoy her breakdown, watching her like a predator scrutinizing a trapped beast. "I need a wife to comfort my grandmother. She was ill, and her only wish before passing was to see me start a family. The Linwood family needed an investment to avoid bankruptcy. A fair deal, isn't it? He paused, his cold gaze pinning her in place, "As for why you're the one standing here, and not the lovely Olivia Linwood...... I think probably no one really wants to marry a disabled person. ”

He raised a long, elegant finger and gently tapped his own thigh. The crisp knocking sounded especially harsh in the deathly silent room. This gesture carried a cold, piercing self-mockery, making Kaeya shiver uncontrollably.

The wave of shock faded, replaced by a raging rage burning in his chest. "That's a lie. I'm leaving. ”

She spun around abruptly, but Duncan's voice made her stop abruptly. His tone was very light, as if they were chatting, but carried a weight like iron chains: "Leave?" You can give it a try. He let the silence float in the air for a moment before adding in a calm and resolute tone, "The moment you step out of this estate, the Linwood family's credit line will be cut off." Tomorrow morning, they will go bankrupt. And you—penniless, with nowhere to go—will never get the money to redeem those 'emotional old belongings' of your grandfather. ”

Kaeya froze in place, his hand still hanging on the doorknob. He knew those books were her only weakness, and the only bargaining chip they used to threaten her. The terrifying nature of this trap was finally fully clear.

"Your duty is simple," Duncan continued, pulling her back from the edge of the abyss, "playing Mrs. Norton." Considerate and obedient, until my grandmother passed away. After that, you get a sum of money, the contract ends, and you completely disappear from my life. A cruel glint flashed in his eyes, "Of course, the premise is that you must maintain ...... Obedient. ”

Kaeya slowly turned around and faced him again. Burning tears welled up deep in her eyes, but she gritted her teeth, determined not to let them fall. She won't let him get his way.

Her mind raced, piecing together all the clues: Olivia's fear, the driver's pity, Melinda's crocodile tears...... A brand-new and terrifying thought took shape in his mind like shards of glass—cold and sharp. The Linwood family was not just afraid of her marrying a disabled man; they simply hoped she would die here. The Norton family is a vast dynasty, making a trivial and annoying orphan disappear silently is a piece of cake. In this way, the Linwood family gets the money, Olivia can break free from the engagement, and Kaeya—the living proof of their theft—will disappear forever. It was a perfect, bloodless murder.

The fear in his veins hadn't faded, but it had already condensed into something else—the will to survive.

The despair in her eyes faded, replaced by calmness and caution. She looked at Duncan Norton, and for the first time truly examined this man. He is a monster, a prisoner, but at the same time, he is her only hope. She had to stay. She must use the title "Mrs. Norton" as a shield and a foundation for her standing. She had to find a way to survive.

She took a deep breath, forcing down the storm inside her. When she spoke again, her voice miraculously calmed down: "I understand." ”

She instantly transforms from a panicked prey into a calm participant, which seems to surprise Duncan. One of his thick eyebrows raised slightly.

Kaeya met his gaze, chin lifted high: "Where is my room?" ”

Duncan stared at her for a while, his blue eyes searching her face, trying to find a crack in her disguised composure. But he found nothing. He pressed a small button on the table, and moments later, Gable appeared at the door.

"Take Miss Harper to the suite in the West Wing." Duncan ordered, deliberately and insultingly emphasizing the pronunciations of "Miss" and "Harper." This was the final reminder of her true place in this mansion.

The guest suite in the West Wing was larger than the entire apartment Kaia had once shared with her grandfather. It was decorated in shades of gray and silver, with a king-sized bed, a marble bathroom, and a walk-in closet. Luxurious, opulent, and as cold and impersonal as a tomb. A beautiful prison cell.

She walked to the tall window and looked out at the sprawling grounds, now cloaked in darkness. The manicured perfection of the gardens seemed menacing under the moonlight. She was trapped.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. A traveling fortune teller in the village where she grew up—a woman with cloudy eyes and a reedy voice—had read her palm once. "You're a jinx, child," the woman had cackled. "Bad luck follows you and spills onto those around you." The Linwoods had loved that story, using it as a whip against her for years. Looking at the dark, imposing manor, Kaia felt a bitter laugh rise in her throat. Maybe the old woman was right.

A soft knock startled her. She opened the door to find Gable placing a silver tray on a small table in the hall. He gave her a stiff nod and departed without a word. The dinner was exquisite—poached salmon, asparagus, wild rice—but she had to force every bite down. She needed her strength for whatever came next.

The next morning, she awoke to find the closet filled with new clothes in her size. Simple, elegant pieces from brands she recognized from magazines but could never afford. All the price tags had been meticulously removed. She was being outfitted, uniformed for her new role.

She chose a simple navy dress and made her way downstairs. In the grand foyer, she found Duncan speaking with a tall, impeccably dressed woman in her fifties who radiated old money and effortless authority. When the woman saw Kaia, her polite smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"This is my aunt, Genevieve Norton," Duncan said, his tone flat. He gestured dismissively toward Kaia. "And this is Kaia Harper."

Genevieve's smile was a work of art—perfectly pleasant and utterly meaningless. "Miss Harper. Now that you're here, it's time you fulfilled your duty. Augusta is at the hospital. She's been very anxious to meet you." Her voice was smooth as silk but with an undercurrent of steel.

A knot of resistance tightened in Kaia's chest. The thought of being paraded before a sick old woman was repellent. "I... I'm not feeling very well."

Duncan's cold eyes fixed on her. The old fortune teller's words echoed in her head, and in a moment of reckless, self-deprecating defiance, she blurted, "Perhaps I shouldn't go. I might be a jinx. I could bring her bad luck."

The words were out before she could stop them. She regretted them instantly. Genevieve's polite mask hardened.

But it was Duncan's reaction that terrified her. His face became a thundercloud, and the air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. He propelled his wheelchair forward with a menacing silence that made the pressure in the room unbearable.

"Say that again." His voice was a low, dangerous growl.

Kaia stumbled back, her heart hammering.

Duncan's voice softened, but each word was a shard of ice. "In this house, there is no such thing as luck. There are only results. And things that bring bad results... I have a habit of disposing of them. Personally."

The implication was brutal and clear. A chill snaked up her spine.

Genevieve stepped in, her voice smooth. "Duncan, don't frighten the girl." She turned to Kaia, her smile back in place, but her eyes were firm. "Miss Harper, the car is waiting. Shall we?" A perfectly manicured hand rested on Kaia's back—a "friendly" gesture that was, in fact, a firm push toward the door.

Kaia shot a desperate, pleading look at Duncan. He met her gaze with an unyielding stare. The message was simple: Obey. This was her first test of compliance, and she could not afford to fail.

Defeated, she allowed Genevieve to guide her out of the mansion and into the back of a gleaming black Bentley. The ride into the city was silent and suffocating. Genevieve stared out the window, leaving Kaia to stew in her own fear.

The car bypassed the main entrance of a prestigious private hospital in Manhattan, pulling directly into a secure VIP garage. Genevieve led her to a private elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse floor. The doors slid open, and the sterile, antiseptic smell of the hospital hit her first. But beneath it, her unusually sensitive nose detected something else—faint, almost imperceptible. A cloying sweetness, like flowers beginning to rot, tinged with something acrid and wrong. A smell that didn't belong.