Page 3 of Vow to Claim You

Resting my head on the fingers that dig into my temples, I skim through the contract, page by page. Not something you’d think you’d be doing two weeks prior to your wedding, especially if you were a hopeless romantic like me, who dreamed of a once-in-a-lifetime fairy-tale love.

“Are you done, Princess Ayanna?” The impatient request of Mr. Zhang, the lawyer hired by my future husband’s family as he introduced himself, jolts me back from my inner monologue.

“No,” I reply harshly, though with a hint of sarcasm as I turn the page. Involuntarily, my gaze wanders fleetingly through my father’s sophisticated office, landing on the younger brother of the heir I’m marrying, whose lips curl up in an amused smirk. I still can’t get over the fact that he came here on behalf of my supposed fiancé to witness me sign the marriage agreement, and not my husband-to-be himself. What a disregard. It was one of the agreement rules; both parties were to sign it in the presence of a lawyer and two witnesses, one from each family. My husband-to-be obviously got to sign it first, and my father was the witness representing our family, as he said, “It would be inappropriate for the bride herself to go.” In other words, I am a woman, and a woman doesn’t get involved in…well, anything. Not in my father’s world, at least.

Nevertheless, I expected him to come in person so we could’ve had at least a small chat before we said the famous “I do,” but apparently, I was the only one who thought meeting before vowing eternity might be worth the effort.

A rush of anger bolts through me.

Doesn’t he have even an ounce of curiosity to meet his wife-to-be?

I try to focus on the contract, but it isn’t until the last page that I find myself straightening up in my father’s brownish leather chair. My gaze scans a set of rules listed one after another, and though I’ve expected something like this, I did not expect the rules to be so…unconventional.

MARRIAGE CONTRACT

VIII.Terms and rules cont.:

6. The parties hereby agree to remain faithful to one another, refraining from any act of adultery or infidelity. This obligation shall take effect upon the date of contract signing, which signifies the formal engagement between the parties. Any violation of this clause shall constitute a material breach, subject to the penalties outlined in Section 8.

7. The parties mutually agree that the Wife shall conceive and deliver a living heir, thereby ensuring the continuity of the Vold family bloodline, within a period not exceeding twelve (12) months from the Effective Date of this Agreement. Failure to produce said heir within the stipulated timeframe shall be deemed a violation of the terms herein and shall constitute a material breach of contract, subject to the penalties outlined in Section 8.

8. The parties recognize that this Agreement is irrevocable and binding until the death of either party. Any material breach of the terms herein shall result in the forfeiture of the offending party’s life. Both families have agreed to this penalty in advance. This clause is nonnegotiable and enforceable without appeal.

The undersigned parties do hereby agree to the terms of this contract.

Conceive and deliver a living heir.

I stare at the words, my fingers tightening on the edge of the contract as if squeezing hard enough would smudge the ink into nothingness.

Are they for real now?

My jaw tightens, holding back a disbelieving breath. The absurdity of it doesn’t even allow me to be fully outraged. It just feels… surreal.

But that’s not even the worst part.

Within a period not exceeding twelve (12) months.

Twelve months. One year to conceive and deliver a living child, or I’m in violation. My eyes scan ahead, searching for what “violation” means, and then I find it. Section 8.

Any material breach of the terms herein shall result in the forfeiture of the offending party’s life.

Forfeiture of life.

My sigh escapes on its own, catching the attention of everyone in the room. My parents. Mr. Zhang. My future brother-in-law.

I read it again. And again. As if the words might rearrange themselves into something less monstrous.

Forfeiture of the offending party’s life. Both families have agreed to this penalty in advance. This clause is nonnegotiable and enforceable without appeal.

Both families.

My father agreed to this. My own father signed a document that says if my body fails to produce a child within a year, I die.

Death.

A single word printed in plain type, but with a weight that settles in my stomach like concrete. My pulse thuds in my ears as I lean back in my seat, suddenly aware of how cold my skin feels and how stiff my posture has become.

This contract isn’t just shackles clamped around my wrists. It’s a lifetime sentence I can’t escape from.