The blueprint

The rain poured outside, drumming on the massive windows, the NewYork city sky line illuminated with bright colours of all sorts.

Richard Morreti’s office was bigger than necessary, in fact it was the size of the apartment me and Scarlett were living in.

The sound of my heels hit the expensive marble making a faint clacking sound.

My daughter and his son sat opposite to each other glaring, their eyes locked onto one another like they were going to blaze the other to ash.

“Sit.” He beckoned over for me to sit gesturing at the black leather chair opposite from me.

The office smelt like faint maghony and citrus, the air was devoid of warmth, just like the man in front of me.

Richard was notoriously known for being a asshole, someone who was ruthless and cold and only knew numbers and profits, a monster. I see why people would say that.

This man could make grown men cry with a single glare. Smoothing my skirt I sat down, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I couldn’t let him, or my daughter see me this nervous. He handed over a paper, the terms and conditions of this marriage. The black pen with golden accents lay there, waiting for me to pick it up.

“I believe you’ve already went over this with your lawyers, correct?” “Yes,” I murmured. I drew a long sharp breath trying to take the control I once had before stepping inside.

Richard was goregeous, a chiseled jaw, deep icy blue eyes. My hands tremored as I grabbed the pen cold in my hand.

I signed the paper. 7 years. Just 7 years. You can do this Vivian. Richards expression remained as cold as ever as he extended his hand into a firm handshake.

“Tomorrow at 8 am you’ll be moving to our house, you’ll have your own rooms and living quarters. The movers will have finished moving all your things.

“Great,” Richard’s son muttered, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms tightly. “My dad bought a fake family, and all I get is a loud-mouthed, annoying stepsister.”

Scarlett’s jaw clenched, her knuckles turning white against her lap. She leaned forward, shooting him a venomous look. “Don’t call me your sister, ever. I’d rather be related to a literal sewer rat. And for your information, you’re only here because your dad is a terrifying robot who had to pay someone to marry him because nobody likes him for free.”

“Scarlett, enough,” I warned softly, placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Caleb. Keep your mouth shut,” Richard commanded, his voice dropping an octave. The temperature in the room plummeted. Leo scowled deeply, throwing his back against the cushions and muttering under his breath about how his gaming room better stay off-limits.

Richard turned his unblinking, icy gaze back to me. “Fix your daughter’s tongue, Vivian. I am paying for discretion, not a reality television show. They will tolerate each other, or they will be confined to their respective wings indefinitely.”

“She will be civil, Richard,” I replied, standing up with flawless posture and grabbing my purse. I refused to let him think he had broken me. “But she is transitioning through a massive life change. I expect your son to show her the same respect.”

Richard stared at me for a beat, a faint, unreadable flicker crossing his icy eyes before the mask slid back into place. “Eight sharp tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Guiding Scarlett toward the exit, I walked out of the massive office. The rhythmic clack of my heels against the marble felt like a countdown. Seven years. Two thousand five hundred and fifty-five days. As the elevator doors slid closed, cutting off the view of Richard Moretti’s empire, I finally let out the breath I had been holding. The storm outside was wild, but it was nothing compared to the war that was about to start in our new home.