Chapter 8 - Rosanna
Chapter eight
Rosanna
The contract arrives at nine p.m., delivered by courier in a thick manila envelope that feels heavy with consequence.
Luna is sprawled on my couch, halfway through a pint of ice cream, when the doorbell rings. She gives me a look that says this is it as I sign for the package with shaking hands.
I don't open it immediately. Instead, I set it on my kitchen table and stare at it like it might explode.
Luna abandons her ice cream and comes to stand beside me. "You want me to look first? I can give you the sanitized version." I shake my head. "No. I need to do this." But I still don't move.
"Ro." Luna's voice is soft. "You don't have to open it. You don't have to read it. You can send it back unopened and walk away from this whole thing."
She squeezes my shoulder. "No one would blame you."
"I would blame me." I finally reach for the envelope, breaking the seal with more force than necessary.
Inside is a bound document.
It's intimidating in its official letterhead and professional watermarks.
A cover letter on top, signed by Noah Carroway, ERS Legal Counsel.
Ms. Lopez, Please find enclosed the revised marriage contract incorporating new protections. I encourage you to review thoroughly and consult with independent legal counsel before making any decision. My contact information is below should you have questions.
I flip to the first page of the contract. The language is dense, formal, exactly what I expected. But as I start focusing on the content, I realize this isn't a standard agreement. This is something else entirely.
Luna peers over my shoulder. "What does it say?"
"It says..." I scan down the page, my heart beating faster with each clause. "It says he meant what he said."
I carry the contract to the couch and start flipping through it.
Consent clauses. Legal protections. Separate living quarters.
Luna leans closer. “Wait. He put all that in?”
Luna whistles low. "He's serious about this."
She settles beside me, reading over my shoulder.
I stare at the contract for a long moment, then reach for my phone. Noah Carroway's business card is clipped to the cover letter. Luna frowns. "What are you doing?"
"Getting clarity." I dial before I can second-guess myself.
It rings twice before he answers. "Noah Carroway."
"Mr. Carroway, this is Rosanna Lopez. I'm sorry to call so late, but I just received the contract and I have questions."
"What can I clarify?"
I take a breath. "It says the money is mine regardless of whether I complete the full six months. Why would he agree to that?"
Noah is quiet for a moment. "Because Mr. O'Malley wanted to ensure you felt free to leave if the arrangement became untenable. The funding is for your willing cooperation, not payment for enduring a bad situation."
That stops me. "He said that? Those words?"
"Close enough." Noah's voice warms slightly. "He also added to the consent clauses. Those aren't just the standard ERS lines, Ms. Lopez. He wanted to make sure you felt comfortable."
I don't know what to do with that information. "What if this is manipulation? What if he's just really good at saying the right things?"
"Then he's manipulating himself too, because he’s bound to these terms just as much as you are." Noah pauses.
“I’ve worked with a lot of clients,” Noah says. “Some are performative. Some are calculating. Mr. O’Malley isn't one of them. Yes, he is doing this for his own optics, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.”
"You sound like you're trying to sell me on this."
"I'm trying to give you accurate information." His tone is mild but firm. "You asked if this could be manipulation. My professional opinion? No. This is a man who's deeply aware of the power imbalances in this relationship and is and trying to correct for them."
After I hang up with Noah, I sit in silence for a long moment. Luna is watching me like she's trying to read my thoughts. "So? What are you thinking?"
“I’m thinking this is the most ethical contract I’ve ever seen for something this surreal.” I set my phone down. “And I still have reservations.”
"What kind of reservations?"
I pull my knees to my chest. "What if I can't do this? What if living with him, pretending to be married, being that close to someone I actively dislike—what if it's harder than I think? What if I can't maintain the performance?"
Luna tilts her head. "You're worried you'll blow the cover? Tell him what you really think in front of cameras?"
"Maybe." I press my palms against my eyes. "Or what if I just... lose myself in the role? Forget who I am because I'm so busy pretending to be Mrs. Seamus O'Malley, dutiful billionaire wife, smiling for photos while his company bulldozes everything I care about?"
"You think proximity will make you complicit."
"I think proximity might make me complacent." I drop my hands, looking at her directly. “What if six months of living in luxury changes me? Makes me forget why I agreed to this in the first place?”
Luna is quiet for a moment, considering. "You're not afraid you'll fall for him. You're afraid you'll fall for the lifestyle."
"Exactly." The relief of being understood loosens something in my chest. "There's no universe where I'd actually develop feelings for Seamus O'Malley.
The man is a corporate robot who thinks historical buildings are inefficient and community concerns are sentimental clutter.
But the money? The comfort? The security?
That I could get used to. And that terrifies me. "
"Ro." Luna reaches over and squeezes my knee.
"You've been broke your entire adult life and you've never once compromised your values for comfort.
You turned down that corporate illustration gig that would've tripled your income because they wanted you to stop doing community work.
You live in this tiny apartment because it's in the neighborhood you care about.
You are not someone who sells out for luxury. "
"I've never had this much luxury available to sell out for."
"True." Luna shrugs. "But you've also never had this much power to actually make change."
I want to believe her. I want to trust that I'll walk away from this in six months with my integrity intact, my values unchanged, my sense of self still recognizable.
But there's a small, terrified part of me that wonders if anyone can live that close to power without being changed by it.
"Just promise me something," I say quietly.
"Anything."
"If you see me changing…if you see me starting to justify things I wouldn't have justified before, or excusing behavior I would've called out, or forgetting why this matters. Promise you'll call me on it. Promise you won't let me disappear into this."
Luna's expression goes fierce. "I promise. And Ro? You won't shrink or disappear. You're too stubborn for that. You're doing this because of who you are, not in spite of it. Don't forget that."
I nod, letting her words settle. She's right. I'm not doing this because I've given up or because I'm desperate enough to compromise everything.
I'm doing this because it's the only way I can see to save something that matters.
But I still can't shake the image of myself comfortable, secure, maybe a little too used to having resources at my fingertips.
Will I even recognize that version of myself? Will she recognize me?
***
I don’t sleep. I read the contract again, looking for loopholes. I don’t find any.
At three a.m., I open my laptop and stare at the blank email screen.
All I have to do is type a response to Noah Carroway.
All I have to do is say yes or no. Simple. Binary.
Except it doesn't feel simple at all.
I think about the storefront. About turning it into something beautiful and necessary.
About kids who need a safe place to read, to dream, to exist without anyone demanding they be smaller or quieter or more convenient.
I think about proving that history matters.
That preservation isn't just nostalgia. It's resistance against a world that keeps choosing profit over people.
I think about Seamus. About the way he listened when I challenged him.
The way he admitted he overcorrects. The way he wrote protections into a contract without being asked.
By the time the sun comes up, I've made my decision. I open a new email to Noah Carroway and type: Mr. Carroway, I've reviewed the contract thoroughly. I agree to the terms as written. Please let me know the next steps. —Rosanna Lopez
I hit send before I can second-guess myself.
Whether I'm ready or not, this is happening.
And I have no idea if I'm making the bravest choice of my life or the biggest mistake.