Seraphim's POV
The morning sunlight crept through the enormous glass windows of the Williams mansion, casting soft gold across the marble floors. I stirred awake on the bed that felt too large, too cold, too foreign. The silence was deafening, only broken by the occasional chirp of birds outside and the reminder that I was now trapped in luxury.
I stretched slightly, letting out a small groan, then sighed. It's too quiet. The weight of everything I'd signed up for pressed against my chest. Nana, I hadn't seen Nana since the move.
Without wasting time, I jumped from the bed, threw on a casual outfit, and tiptoed down the hallway. If I could just sneak out, maybe…
"Where do you think you're going?"
His voice. Low. Dangerous.
I froze mid-step. Grey stood by the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a mug of coffee like he'd been there the whole time. His gaze swept over me my simple clothes, the guilty look in my eyes and a cruel smirk tugged at his lips.
"I—uh—just wanted to go check on my grandmother," she stammered. "It won't take long"
"You're not going anywhere," Grey interrupted smoothly, walking closer. "Not until I say so."
My jaw tightened. "You don't own me, Grey."
He chuckled darkly. "Oh, don't I?" He took another step, closing the distance. "You signed the contract, remember? You haven't been paid in full yet. Which means…" He leaned in, his voice brushing against my ear. "You do as I say."
My stomach twisted. I clenched my fists, glaring up at him. "You're unbelievable."
"Maybe," he murmured. "But I keep control of what's mine."
I stepped back sharply. "I'm not yours."
Grey's eyes hardened, and for a moment, that flicker of hatred glinted there cold, deep, and personal. "You're right," he said softly, almost mockingly. "You're just the girl who ruined my shirt, embarrassed me, and somehow ended up living in my house. Congratulations, Mrs. Williams."
The venom in his voice stung. I felt my throat tighten but refused to let him see the hurt.
When he finally left the hallway, I grabbed my phone, breathing shakily, and dialed Nurse Riley's number.
"Seraphim! Oh, it's so good to hear from you," Nurse Riley's voice came, warm and familiar.
"How's Nana?" I asked quickly.
"She's doing fine, dear. A little restless, but happy."
"Can I… talk to her?"
"Of course."
A shuffle, then that soft, sweet voice that melted me every time. "Raphie?"
I smiled, tears already gathering in her eyes. "Hey, Nana. How are you feeling?"
"I'm good, my flower. Are they treating you right over there?"
I bit my lip, forcing a chuckle. "Oh, you know me I can handle myself."
Nana hummed. "You always say that when things are bad."
I laughed quietly, wiping my cheek. "You caught me."
We talked for a few minutes about food, Nurse Riley's terrible singing, and the old neighborhood. When the call ended, I felt lighter, even if just for a moment.
Then the laughter came.
Loud. From down the hall. Followed by a soft moan. Then another.
My stomach sank.
No. He wouldn't. Not this loud.
But he did.
Grey's voice low, husky mixed with a woman's giggle, echoing down the corridor. I covered my ears, my face burning. "Are you kidding me?"I hissed under my breath.
The sound of the bed creaking was the last straw. I grabbed my jacket, muttering, "I'm not doing this today," and stormed out of the mansion.
Natasha's apartment was a splash of chaos — music low, curtains drawn, and the faint smell of strawberries in the air. I was about to knock when the door opened slightly, and my eyes widened.
Oh, for heaven's sake.
Natasha was… very much busy. With another woman.
The stranger's laughter filled the air as Natasha leaned in for another kiss, only to pause when she saw me standing there, arms folded, face caught somewhere between disbelief and irritation.
Natasha pulled away, grinning. "You could've texted first, you know."
I blinked, unimpressed. "Is there anyone in this city who doesn't make out on a Monday morning?"
The other woman giggled, grabbed her purse, and whispered to Natasha, "I'll see you later, babe."
I groaned. "Oh, great. She'll come around later too. Why don't you just hang a sign that says 'open for passion 24/7'?"
Natasha laughed, tossing her hair back. "You're one to talk. Shouldn't you be on your honeymoon right now, Mrs. Williams?"
I shot her a glare. "You know it's just a contract."
"Oh please," Natasha teased, slipping on her shirt. "You seriously expect me to believe you're living under the same roof with a man like that for a whole year and nothing's going to happen?"
"Nothing's going to happen," I snapped.
"Sure, sure," Natasha smirked. "Keep telling yourself that, sugar."
I rolled her eyes. "You're insufferable."
"Mm, but you love me."
We both burst into laughter, the tension melting. It felt good normal to laugh again. The conversation drifted, deeper and softer, about life, about dreams, about how much everything had changed.
Then, for a moment, something shifted. Natasha leaned in, her gaze lingering a second too long. The air thickened.
I froze. My heartbeat quickened as Natasha's face drew closer our laughter fading into silence. Then, at the very last second, I turned my head away.
"Nat," I whispered. "I'm not… gay."
Natasha smirked gently. "You can't really know that until you've tried."
I raised a brow. "And how do you know you're gay if you've never tried dick?"
Natasha gasped, half-scandalized, half-laughing. "Oh, don't you dare bring that word into my sacred space!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, yeah. Born gay, right?"
"Exactly," Natasha said proudly.
We both laughed again until my phone buzzed.
The name flashing on the screen made my heart drop.
Grey Williams.
I swallowed hard, answering hesitantly. "What?"
His tone was curt, clipped. "Be ready in an hour. We have a meeting. You're coming with me and we'll need to look like a real couple this time."
The call ended before I could reply.
I stood there frozen for a moment. Natasha arched an eyebrow. "That didn't sound like good news."
I exhaled shakily, staring at my reflection in the mirror across the room, my tired eyes,messy hair, and lips still trembling from laughter. The girl staring back at me didn't even look like me anymore.
"A meeting," I muttered. "A couple's meeting. Oh, God."
I grabbed my purse, and left Natasha's place, already panicking.
In my mind, Grey's voice echoed again, cool and commanding: You'll do as I say.
And for the first time since the contract began, I felt the weight of what I'd really signed up for a gilded cage dressed as a promise.
We have a meeting, he'd said just that, nothing more. No time, no explanation, no kindness. Like I was another item on his to-do list.
"A meeting"
Those two words kept replaying in my head like a bad song on repeat. What meeting? With who? And why the hell was I supposed to play "the loving wife" again when the man could barely look at me without burning holes through my face?
I grabbed my brush, trying to calm myself, but my hands were shaking so hard it slipped and clattered to the floor. I bent down to pick it up, but I just… stopped. My reflection stared at me from the vanity mirror, all glittering marble and gold around me, a beautiful cage.
Grey had made sure of that. Every move I made, every breath I took it all revolved around him now. I'd signed the contract, walked into his mansion, and now I was his at least on paper.
He didn't love me. He didn't even like me. He resented me.
Maybe it was because of that stupid day I bumped into him, or maybe it was just who he was cold, prideful, impossible. But the hate in his eyes whenever he looked at me? That was real.
And yet… there was something else there too. Something I couldn't explain, something that made my chest tighten in ways I didn't want to think about.
I sighed, sinking into the chair by the vanity. "Get it together, Seraphim," I muttered. "It's just another act. You've lied before, you can lie again."
But my voice trembled. Because this wasn't some random lie to a stranger this was a lie I was living.
I looked around the room at the silk curtains, the chandelier, the ridiculously huge bed and all I could think was how small I felt inside all this luxury. Like a fraud wearing borrowed skin.
I let out a dry laugh. "Congratulations, Seraphim," I said to my reflection. "You've officially sold yourself to a man who hates your guts."
The silence after that was deafening.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I could still hear his voice cold, steady, cruel:
"You do as I say."
It made something inside me burn. Maybe anger. Maybe humiliation. Maybe both.
Fine. He wanted a perfect wife? I'd be one. I'd smile, hold his arm, laugh at his father's stupid jokes — whatever it took. I'd play my part so well, he'd choke on it.
But as I stood up and looked at myself one more time, I saw something flicker in my eyes something that scared me more than the hate, more than the fear, more than the act.
Because for a split second… I wondered what it would be like if any of it were real.
And that thought? That was the most dangerous one of all.