Chapter 3

Lilith's Pov

Rose led me down a quiet hallway. Everything about this house felt like a whisper, rich, quiet, and cold. Like every corner held a secret.

When we finally stopped in front of a door and stepped in, I was stunned.

The room was… beautiful.

Spacious. Clean. The bed looked like something out of a luxury hotel, draped in soft white sheets. There was a chandelier above, glittering faintly. The curtains swayed gently from the night breeze coming through the slightly opened balcony door.

It was more than anything I had back home. I could live here forever. I really could.

But the beauty of the room only made the ache in my chest worse. Because for a moment—just a tiny, cruel moment—I imagined what it could feel like to actually belong here. To be in love. To have romance bloom in such a perfect place.

But that wasn’t my story.

“This is your room,” Rose said gently, pulling me out of my thoughts. “If you need anything, anything at all, just tell me. There’s hot water available if you’d like to shower. I’ll bring up some dinner soon.”

I shook my head quickly. “No need for dinner. I’m fine. Really. I just need to change… and sleep.”

Rose gave me a small, understanding smile. “Alright. Rest well then.” And with that, she left, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

I took slow steps toward the bed and sat down, pressing my fingers into the edge of the mattress as I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

You have to get through this, Lilith. No matter what, you have to get through this.

I stood up after a moment, walking over to the large wardrobe and opening it. A few clothes hung neatly inside, none of them mine, but clearly bought for me. Probably chosen by someone else. Maybe Rose. Maybe someone hired to make this prison look pretty.

I thought about calling Rose to bring up my actual bags, but I was too tired to care.

I reached behind me and began to unzip my dress, desperate to shed the heavy weight of the day—both literally and emotionally.

The zipper came down slowly, the back of the gown sliding open, and just as I began to pull the sleeves off my shoulder—

The door opened. No knock. No warning.

And there he was. My husband

My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I was halfway undressed, the back of my gown halfway down, my skin exposed to the cool air, and to him.

He stood there, like he owned everything, because he probably thought he did.

I grabbed the top of my dress, clutching it tightly to my chest and twisting around, eyes wide with disbelief.

A normal human would have knocked!!” I snapped. My voice was shaky but sharp. “Please knock next time!”

He didn’t say anything immediately. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, his eyes unreadable.

Then, finally, in that cold, low voice of his, he said, “It’s my house. I can do whatever I want.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. My dress still held tightly in place.

“Well, it’s our house now,” I shot back. “We’re married, remember? You might not like it, but that’s the truth. And we are going to acknowledge that fact whether you want to or not.”

His brows twitched, just slightly. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and you’re already trying to boss me around. Watch it.”

“Watch it?” I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping me. “You barge into my room uninvited and I’m the one who needs to watch it?”

He didn’t answer that either.

I straightened up, trying not to let the shake in my fingers show as I adjusted my dress. “Since you're not staying in this room, Killian, what are you even doing here?”

“You don’t question me,” he said, stepping further inside like he owned the air I breathed.

I stared at him, my voice lower this time, exhausted and brittle. “What are you doing here, Killian? I am tired. I’ve had enough for today. I don’t want trouble. What do you want?”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, and there was something bitter in his eyes, something that twisted my gut.

“Look at you,” he said slowly. “Saying you don’t want trouble after all the trouble you’ve caused.”

My breath caught. I knew very well what he meant by that.

“I came here to make one thing clear,” he continued. “Married or not married, stay away from me. Stay out of my path. Don’t question me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t try to play wife. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

I stared at him, anger rising in my throat like bile.

“We’re living in the same house,” I said. “Of course we’re going to be seen together.”

He shrugged. “Pretend like we're not.”

He turned to leave, but something inside me snapped.

“So,” I said slowly, voice calm but laced with challenge, “minding my business, staying off your path… does that mean I can go play around with other men?”

He stopped. His hand froze on the doorknob, and slowly, he turned around.

That smile, God, that cruel, heartless smirk, it spread across his face like venom.

“It won’t be anything new,” he said, voice sharp as a blade. “You playing around with different men every day. Your sister… she was the composed one. The graceful one. And you—” his eyes raked over me with disdain, “you were always the reckless one. Jumping from one man to another.”

My throat tightened, heat rising to my cheeks, not from shame, but from fury.

“I won’t take that kind of insult,” I snapped, my voice cracking.

“Insult?” he chuckled darkly, stepping closer, one foot after the other. “Oh no, Lilith. It’s not an insult when it’s the truth.”

I took a step back.

“If it wasn’t for your recklessness,” he hissed, “Kate would still be alive.”

That was it. My chest ached so hard it hurt to breathe. I wanted to scream. To cry. To disappear.

“You don’t have to remind me every time,” I said, shaking, my voice barely above a whisper. “You think I don’t remember? You think I don’t relive it every damn second of my life? I blame myself. Every day.”

My hands trembled as I pulled back the side of my hair. “I have a scar on my neck. You see that? And this—” I pointed to my eyes “this is what I live with. So don’t stand there and act like I’ve forgotten what I did. Don’t you dare.”

He just stared at me without saying anything. His stare was cold.

“I know you don’t regret it,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Don’t pretend. You always wanted this. To get rid of her. To have me. You’ve always been jealous.”

My stomach twisted.

“I have never been jealous of my sister,” I snapped, trembling now not just from anger, but from disbelief. “Don’t twist things to fit your messed-up fantasy.”

He stepped forward. Close. Too close.

His hand came up, not violently, but with enough force to shock me. His fingers brushed under my jaw, lifting my chin until I was forced to meet his eyes.

“Listen to me carefully,” he whispered, his voice as cold as the night air. “I don’t care what you do. Go ahead. Whore around with whoever you like. I don’t give a damn.”

He leaned in just enough for his breath to touch my cheek.

“Stay. Away. From me… monster.”

Then he let go and walked away.