The morning after the wedding was silent.
Too silent.
No warmth. No intimacy.
Just a cold, oversized bed… and an empty space beside her.
He was already gone.
Of course.
Lena let out a quiet breath and sat up slowly.
Her body ached—not from passion,
but from the sheer, unyielding tension of the night before.
She looked at the ring on her finger.
A contract.
Not a marriage.
"Fine," she whispered.
"Let's play it your way."
Downstairs, the mansion felt like a hotel.
Cold marble floors.
Perfectly arranged furniture.
Not a trace of life.
"Good morning, Mrs. Carter."
A maid bowed slightly.
Lena gave a small nod.
"Where is Mr. Carter?"
"He has been in the study since 6 a.m."
Of course he had.
Work. Control. Distance.
That was the kind of man he was.
Lena walked straight toward the study.
No hesitation.
No fear.
She didn't knock.
She pushed the door open.
Ethan Carter didn't look up immediately.
His eyes were fixed on the documents in front of him.
"Next time," he said coldly, "you knock."
Lena closed the door behind her.
Then she smiled.
"Next time," she said softly,
"you should remember I'm your wife."
That made him pause.
Just for a second.
Then he looked up.
Really looked at her.
Interesting.
That was the word that crossed Ethan's mind.
She didn't look broken.
Not scared.
Not obedient.
Not like the woman he married last night.
"What do you want?" he asked.
Lena walked closer, her heels echoing sharply against the floor.
"I want rules."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Rules?"
"Yes." She stopped in front of his desk.
"If this is a business deal, then we follow terms. Clearly."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, studying her.
"A tool doesn't get to make rules," he said quietly.
Lena didn't flinch.
Instead, she tilted her head slightly.
"Then don't treat me like one."
Silence.
Sharp. Immediate.
"Go on," Ethan said.
Lena lifted her chin.
"First. You don't control my schedule."
"Second. You don't touch me unless I allow it."
A flicker passed through his eyes.
Dark. Sharp.
Like something waking up.
But she didn't stop.
"Third…"
She leaned in slightly.
"We act like a perfect couple in public."
Silence filled the room.
Heavy. Tense.
Electric.
Ethan suddenly stood up.
In one step, he was in front of her.
Too close.
Way too close.
"You think you have the right to negotiate with me?"
His voice dropped.
Low. Dangerous.
Lena didn't move.
Didn't step back.
Instead—
She smiled.
"It's not a negotiation," she whispered.
"It's an equal exchange."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
Ethan laughed.
Soft. Unexpected. Dangerous.
"You're not what I expected."
"I get that a lot," Lena replied.
His hand shot out.
He grabbed her chin.
Firm. Possessive.
"Careful," he said.
"You might forget your place."
Lena's eyes turned cold.
In the next second—
She slapped his hand away.
Hard.
"Then don't touch me."
Silence.
Real silence this time.
The kind that breaks something.
Or starts something.
Ethan stared at her.
Not angry.
Not yet.
But something had changed.
Something interested.
Something dangerous.
"Fine," he said slowly.
"We'll play by your rules."
Lena turned to leave.
But just as her hand touched the door—
His voice came again.
"Lena."
She stopped.
"Don't forget one thing."
She didn't turn around.
"Say it."
Ethan's voice dropped, colder than before.
"In this house…"
"I always win."
Lena smiled.
This time—
It wasn't polite.
It wasn't soft.
It was a challenge.
We'll see who breaks first.
She walked out.
Behind her, Ethan watched the closed door.
His fingers brushed his chin—
Right where she had pushed him away.
For the first time—
He wasn't bored.