THE RULES OF HIS HOUSE

Two days after my meeting with Damien Blackwood, I officially became his wife.

The civil ceremony was considerably simpler than the grand wedding I had originally been expected to have with Alexander. There were no elaborate decorations, expensive guests or photographers waiting to capture every moment. Only the necessary legal representatives and a few witnesses were present.

I wore a simple ivory dress, while Damien appeared in a dark suit, seated in his wheelchair.

He barely spoke throughout the ceremony, except when the registrar asked whether he accepted me as his lawful wife.

His answer was brief.

“I do.”

When it was my turn, I gave the same response.

The documents were signed, the necessary formalities completed, and within a few minutes, I was legally Isabella Blackwood.

It was strange how easily my life had changed.

A few days earlier, I had been preparing to marry Alexander Sterling. Now, I was legally bound to a man I barely knew.

After the ceremony, Damien’s legal representative handed us copies of the marriage certificate and congratulated us. Damien acknowledged the words politely before asking his assistant to arrange our departure.

There was no romantic gesture, no affectionate smile and certainly no kiss.

I was beginning to suspect that my husband considered even ordinary social interactions an unnecessary inconvenience.

By the time we arrived at the Blackwood estate, the sun was already setting.

Mr. Collins welcomed us at the entrance.

“Congratulations on your marriage, sir. Mrs. Blackwood, welcome home.”

Mrs. Blackwood.

The title sounded unfamiliar, and I needed a moment to remind myself that it now belonged to me.

“Thank you, Mr. Collins.”

Damien handed his coat to one of the staff members before directing his attention to the butler.

“Has everything been arranged?”

“Yes, sir. Mrs. Blackwood’s belongings have been brought in, and her bedroom is ready.”

“Good.”

He turned towards me.

“Collins will show you around. Dinner will be served at eight.”

With that, he instructed Daniel, who had accompanied us from the ceremony, to bring some documents to his study.

I watched him disappear down the hallway before following Mr. Collins upstairs.

“Your bedroom is this way, Mrs. Blackwood,” he explained.

He opened a door to reveal a spacious bedroom decorated in soft beige and cream colours. A large bed stood in the centre, while a glass door opened onto a private balcony overlooking the garden.

My luggage had already been arranged neatly beside the wardrobe.

“This is lovely,” I admitted.

“I’m glad you like it. Please let me know if you require anything.”

I thanked him, and he prepared to leave. However, I stopped him with a question.

“Mr. Collins, does Damien always behave like that?”

The older man turned slightly.

“Like what, Mrs. Blackwood?”

“Like he is constantly attending a business meeting.”

A faint smile appeared on his face.

“Mr. Blackwood has always been a private man. He prefers things to be orderly and does not particularly enjoy unnecessary conversations.”

I glanced towards the hallway.

“I see.”

“Dinner will be served at eight. Mr. Blackwood usually eats in his study, but he has instructed the staff to prepare dinner for both of you in the dining room tonight.”

That surprised me more than I expected.

“Thank you for letting me know.”

After he left, I walked towards the balcony and looked out at the garden.

The Blackwood estate was beautiful, but I could already sense how different life here would be. Damien had his own routines, his own expectations and an entire household accustomed to following his instructions.

I would have to find my place without allowing myself to become dependent on anyone.

At eight, I made my way downstairs.

Damien was already seated at the dining table, reviewing something on his tablet. He looked up briefly when I entered.

“You’re on time.”

“I didn’t realize dinner was an examination.”

He put the tablet aside.

“It isn’t. I simply appreciate punctuality.”

I took the seat opposite him.

Dinner was served, and for several minutes, neither of us spoke. I was halfway through my meal when Damien finally addressed me.

“Now that the marriage is official, there are a few things you should understand about living here.”

I placed my cutlery down.

“I’m listening.”

“First, I expect you to respect my privacy. My study and personal documents are not to be accessed without permission. Second, I don’t want strangers brought into this house without informing me. Third, anything concerning my business should be discussed with me before you become involved.”

He paused to take a sip of water.

“There will also be occasional family obligations and public appearances. When necessary, I expect you to accompany me.”

I considered his instructions.

“Anything else?”

“For now, that is enough.”

I nodded.

“I can respect your privacy, Mr Damien, but I hope you understand that respect works both ways. I don’t intend to interfere with your life, and I expect the same consideration.”

His gaze settled on me.

“You seem very determined to establish your independence.”

“Because I intend to have it.”

He studied me for another moment before returning to his meal.

“Then we should have no problems.”

I almost smiled at his certainty.

We finished dinner without much conversation. When I stood to leave, Damien spoke again.

“You can call me Damien. There is no need to be formal whenever we are alone.”

I looked at him.

“Very well, Damien. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Isabella.”

I returned to my bedroom, changed into comfortable clothes and settled on the bed with my phone.

For a while, I searched through the internet for information about Damien’s accident. Unfortunately, most of the articles I found discussed his business achievements rather than his personal life.

The few reports mentioning his disability described it as the result of a serious accident three years earlier. None provided any meaningful explanation of what had happened or whether anyone had been held responsible.

I leaned back against the headboard.

In the original novel, Damien had died before the end of the year. His death was briefly attributed to medical complications, and the story moved on without giving his character much attention.

I had initially considered that detail unimportant because he was only a minor character.

Now, however, I was his wife.

If the original storyline remained accurate, I could be living with a man whose life was already approaching its end without either of us knowing it.

Across the estate, Damien was in his study when Daniel entered with a folder.

“Sir, the preliminary report on Mrs. Blackwood is ready.”

Damien closed the document he had been reading.

“Leave it there.”

Daniel placed the folder on his desk.

“Her previous relationship with Alexander Sterling appears to have been serious. Several people confirmed that she was deeply attached to him, which makes her sudden decision to end the engagement rather unusual.”

Damien opened the report and examined the first few pages.

“Find out what changed. I want to understand why a woman who spent years pursuing one man suddenly agreed to marry someone she had never met.”

“Understood, sir.”

Damien’s attention returned to the report.

There was something about Isabella Sinclair that did not add up, and he intended to discover what it was.