The city lights blurred past the car window as Elena sat stiffly in the backseat.
She hadn't cried.
Not yet.
The moment the contract was signed, Adrian Blackwood had made one call. Everything after that moved too fast—documents, signatures, witnesses she barely noticed.
No flowers.
No smiles.
No congratulations.
Just a marriage finalized like a business merger.
"Put on your ring."
His voice cut through the silence.
Elena looked down at the simple diamond ring resting in the velvet box on her lap. It was beautiful. Cold. Lifeless.
She slid it onto her finger.
The ring felt heavier than the contract.
"Good," Adrian said. "You'll wear it at all times. In public, you are my wife."
She clenched her jaw. "And in private?"
He turned his head slightly, his sharp profile illuminated by the city glow.
"In private," he said calmly, "you are a responsibility I didn't ask for."
The car stopped.
Blackwood Estate.
The gates opened silently, revealing a massive mansion bathed in soft lights. It didn't look like a home.
It looked like a fortress.
Inside, servants stood in perfect lines, heads bowed.
"Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Blackwood," the butler said.
The words made Elena's stomach twist.
Home.
She followed Adrian inside, her footsteps echoing against marble floors. Everything was luxurious, spotless—and painfully empty.
Adrian stopped near the staircase.
"You'll take the guest room on the east wing," he said. "My room is off-limits."
Elena looked up at him. "Is that part of the rules?"
"Yes."
"And if I break them?"
His gaze dropped to her, slow and calculating.
"You won't," he said. "Because you're smart enough to know what happens when you disappoint me."
A chill ran down her spine.
A maid approached quietly. "Madam, shall I help you change?"
Madam.
Elena nodded weakly and followed her upstairs.
The guest room was bigger than her old apartment. King-sized bed. Floor-to-ceiling curtains. A private balcony overlooking the city.
She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror.
Mrs. Blackwood.
The name didn't belong to her.
A soft knock sounded.
The door opened before she could respond.
Adrian stepped inside.
Her heart jumped.
"I thought—" she started.
"This is not a visit," he said flatly. "It's a reminder."
He closed the door behind him.
Elena stood instinctively, putting distance between them.
Adrian walked closer, stopping just a step away. She could smell his cologne—dark, expensive, intoxicating.
"Listen carefully," he said. "This marriage exists for appearances only. You will not touch me. You will not expect affection. And you will not forget why you're here."
She lifted her chin. "And why is that?"
His eyes darkened.
"Because someone like you doesn't get to dream," he said coldly. "You get to survive."
The words stung more than she expected.
"And you?" she asked quietly. "Do you survive too?"
For a split second, something cracked in his expression.
Gone as fast as it appeared.
"That's none of your concern," he said.
He turned to leave, then paused.
"One more thing."
She looked at him.
"If you fall in love," Adrian said slowly, "you lose."
The door closed behind him.
Elena stood frozen, her heart pounding.
She walked to the bed and sat down, gripping the sheets tightly.
This marriage wasn't built on love.
It was built on control.
Outside the room, Adrian leaned against the wall, loosening his tie slightly.
His jaw tightened.
He hadn't planned for her eyes.
Or the way his chest felt tight when she looked at him like he was already a monster.
"This changes nothing," he muttered to himself.
Inside the guest room, Elena lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
She touched the ring on her finger.
And whispered into the silence—
"I will survive."
Even if it meant breaking every rule he made.