Chapter 3: Rules of the Cage

The next morning, Isla woke to the blinding glare of sunlight bleeding through floor-to-ceiling windows. For a second, she forgot where she was—forgot about the diamond collar weighing down her neck, the suffocating luxury surrounding her. Then she turned her head and saw the empty side of the enormous bed.

Reality crashed down.

The sheets beside her were untouched, cold. Ezekiel Veylin hadn’t spent the night with his new wife. Of course not. He didn’t need her warmth—he needed her presence. She was a trophy, nothing more.

Dragging herself out of bed, Isla padded toward the closet. It wasn’t just a closet—it was a boutique. Silk dresses, designer shoes, jewelry worth more than her entire life lined the walls. Her old existence felt like a distant memory.

She found a simple black blouse and high-waisted skirt, modest enough, hoping to feel like herself for at least one day. When she stepped out of the bedroom, she found Maddox already waiting, phone in hand.

“Breakfast is served on the balcony. Mr. Veylin is expecting you,” he said flatly.

Isla followed him through the grand halls, heels clicking against marble, nerves coiling in her stomach. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries greeted her first, then the man himself.

Ezekiel sat at the head of the table, dressed in a crisp black suit, every inch of him radiating ruthless power. He didn’t look up from his tablet.

“You’re late,” he said coldly.

“It’s my first morning here,” Isla bit back. “I didn’t realize there was a curfew.”

Ezekiel’s jaw tightened slightly before he set his tablet down, finally pinning her with that dangerous gaze.

“Rule number one,” he said, voice smooth as silk but sharp as a blade. “You will be by my side when I say. No questions, no delays.”

Isla’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded.

“Rule number two,” he continued, sipping his coffee. “You will attend every event I require—charity galas, board meetings, social functions. You will smile, look beautiful, and say nothing unless I ask you to.”

She inhaled through her nose, ignoring the insult.

“And rule number three.” His voice dropped, eyes glittering with something darker. “When we are in private… you will not cross me.”

Her stomach twisted, but she refused to show weakness. “Define ‘cross’.”

Ezekiel leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. His lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. “Defy me. Challenge me. Test my patience.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “Every action has a consequence, Mrs. Veylin. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

Isla’s nails dug into her palm. She didn’t trust herself to speak without screaming.

After a long, tense silence, Ezekiel stood. “We’re having lunch with my mother today. She despises gold-diggers, so do try to behave. Maddox will prep you.”

He walked past her, but just as he brushed by, he leaned in and whispered, “Don’t make me regret choosing you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with the sound of her own anger.

Hours later, Isla sat in front of a vanity as Maddox’s team curled her hair and painted her lips into perfection. They spoke little, only instructing her how to present herself to high society. She wasn’t Isla anymore—she was Mrs. Ezekiel Veylin, the perfect wife to a man who didn’t believe in love.

Her reflection stared back, unfamiliar, hollow-eyed and adorned in jewels.

When Ezekiel returned, dressed like a god carved in expensive fabric, his gaze flicked over her from head to toe, eyes dark and unreadable.

“Passable,” he said, offering his arm.

Isla took it, jaw clenched.

As they entered the private elevator, Ezekiel’s grip tightened on her waist. “One more thing,” he murmured.

She glanced up warily.

“In this marriage, appearances are everything,” he said, voice low and deliberate. “But in the bedroom… there are no rules. Only obedience.”

Her heart slammed against her ribs. Before she could respond, the doors opened.

And Isla realized surviving Ezekiel Veylin wouldn’t just mean keeping up a lie—it would mean surrendering parts of herself she’d sworn to protect