CHAPTER 2 — WELCOME TO MY HELL

Arabella's POV

“Congratulations, Mrs. Kingsley.”

Napatingin ako sa babaeng nakatayo sa harap ko habang inaabot niya ang isang maliit na kahon na kulay itim.

Mrs. Kingsley.

Hindi pa rin ako makapaniwala na iyon na ang apelyidong kailangan kong gamitin simula ngayon.

Kahapon lang, isa akong ordinaryong babae na nagtatrabaho para makatulong sa pamilya ko. Ngayon, legal wife na ako ng isa sa pinakamayamang lalaki sa bansa.

And the worst part?

Hindi ko alam kung alin ang mas nakakatakot—ang mawalan ng kalayaan o ang makasama ang lalaking walang ibang ginawa kundi iparamdam sa akin na isa akong malaking pagkakamali.

“Thank you,” mahina kong sagot.

“Mr. Kingsley is waiting for you outside, ma'am.”

Napabuntong-hininga ako.

Of course, he was.

Hindi man lang niya ako hinayaang magpahinga matapos ang kasal naming ginawa sa isang private ceremony kaninang umaga. Walang pamilya, walang kaibigan, at walang kahit anong romantikong bagay.

Just signatures, legal documents, and two witnesses na mukhang mas interesado pa sa relo ni Damien kaysa sa mismong kasal.

It was the least romantic wedding in history.

At least, for me.

Kinuha ko ang kahon at binuksan iyon.

Inside was a diamond necklace.

Napasinghap ako nang makita ang kinang nito. Hindi ako eksperto sa alahas, pero alam kong hindi basta-basta ang presyo ng kuwintas na iyon.

May maliit na card sa loob.

Wear this tonight. Don't embarrass me.

Napapikit ako.

“Napakagaling talaga ng asawa ko,” bulong ko. “Romantic na romantic.”

I stuffed the card back into the box and headed outside.

Naghihintay si Damien sa tabi ng isang itim na luxury car. Nakasuot siya ng dark gray suit, at ang isang kamay niya ay nakalagay sa bulsa habang may kausap sa cellphone.

“Yes. The acquisition must be finalized before Friday. I don't care how much it costs. Make it happen.”

He ended the call and glanced at me.

“Finally.”

“Sorry kung hindi ako kasing bilis ng mga empleyado mo.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Get in the car, Arabella.”

“Good morning to you, too, husband.”

For a second, he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he opened the car door.

I climbed inside, making sure to keep a reasonable distance from him.

The moment the car started moving, I looked out the window.

“So, where are we going?”

“My house.”

“Our house,” I corrected.

He slowly turned his head toward me.

“What?”

“Since we're married, technically, it's our house now.”

A humorless smile appeared on his face.

“Don't get comfortable. The house is mine, the rules are mine, and you will follow them.”

Napalingon ako sa kanya.

“Wow. Do you practice being insufferable in front of a mirror?”

“Do you always talk this much?”

“Only when I'm stuck with arrogant men.”

“Then this marriage is going to be a very long year.”

“Trust me, Damien. I feel the same way.”

I turned back toward the window, hiding the small smile threatening to form on my lips.

Maybe this year wouldn't be completely boring.

Or maybe I was about to regret every word I had just said.

Twenty minutes later, huminto ang sasakyan sa harap ng isang napakalaking mansion.

I stared at the building in disbelief.

Glass windows, towering white pillars, perfectly trimmed gardens, and a fountain that probably cost more than my entire family's house.

“This is your house?” I asked.

“No. It's a public library. I bring all my wives here.”

I turned to him.

“Are you always this sarcastic?”

“Only when someone asks stupid questions.”

I glared at him before stepping out of the car.

The front doors opened, revealing several household staff members standing in a neat line.

“Welcome home, sir.”

Then they turned toward me.

“Welcome home, ma'am.”

Hindi ako sanay sa ganitong treatment. Sa bahay namin, ako ang nagluluto kapag pagod si Mama, ako ang naglilinis kapag walang ibang makagawa, at ako ang nag-aasikaso sa mga bayarin.

Now, people were bowing their heads at me as if I were royalty.

It felt strange.

Uncomfortable, even.

Damien walked past everyone without another word.

“Come with me.”

I followed him up the grand staircase and into a hallway lined with expensive paintings.

Huminto siya sa harap ng isang malaking p***o at binuksan iyon.

“This is your room.”

I stepped inside.

The room was beautiful. A king-sized bed, a walk-in closet, a private bathroom, and enormous windows overlooking the garden.

Everything was perfect.

Except for one thing.

“Wait.” I turned toward him. “Your room?”

“Yes.”

“Where's your room?”

He pointed toward the hallway.

“Next door.”

I blinked.

“Next door?”

“Do you need me to repeat it?”

“Akala ko ba mag-asawa tayo?”

“We are.”

“Then why aren't we sharing a room?”

His expression remained unreadable.

“Because this is a contract marriage, Arabella. Don't confuse legal obligations with a real relationship.”

Parang may malamig na tubig na ibinuhos sa mukha ko.

I knew our marriage was fake in every way that mattered, but hearing him say it so casually still hurt my pride.

“Don't worry,” I replied, lifting my chin. “I have absolutely no intention of sharing a bed with a man who thinks he's God's gift to women.”

“Good. We're finally agreeing on something.”

He turned to leave.

“Damien?”

He stopped without looking back.

“What?”

“What are the rules?”

He turned around, his expression becoming serious.

“First, you don't enter my private office without permission.”

I nodded.

“Second, you don't discuss our marriage with the press.”

“Fine.”

“Third, whenever we attend an event, you will act like my loving wife. No arguments in public. No embarrassing scenes. And no talking about the contract.”

I crossed my arms.

“Anything else? Should I also schedule your breathing?”

His jaw tightened.

“Don't test me, Arabella.”

“Then stop treating me like an employee.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he stepped closer.

“Let me make one thing clear. I didn't marry you because I wanted a wife. I married you because I needed one. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be for both of us.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze.

“And let me make something clear, too. I didn't marry you because I wanted your money. I married you because my family needed help. Don't mistake my sacrifice for weakness.”

Something shifted in his eyes.

Surprise, perhaps.

But it vanished so quickly that I wondered if I had imagined it.

“Dinner is at seven,” he said before walking out.

The door closed behind him.

I stood there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway.

Then I sat on the edge of the bed and finally allowed myself to breathe.

“Welcome to your new life, Arabella,” I whispered.

A life where I had everything money could buy, except the one thing I wanted most.

Freedom.

At exactly seven o'clock, I went downstairs wearing a simple black dress.

Hindi ko sinuot ang diamond necklace.

Let him complain.

When I entered the dining room, Damien was already seated at the head of the table.

He glanced at my neck.

“Where's the necklace?”

“Safe in its box.”

“I told you to wear it.”

“And I decided not to.”

His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

“You're deliberately trying to annoy me.”

“No. I'm deliberately trying to remain myself.”

He stared at me for several seconds before gesturing toward the empty chair beside him.

“Sit.”

I sat down.

Dinner was served, but the silence between us was almost unbearable. I was halfway through my food when Damien suddenly spoke.

“Tomorrow, you'll accompany me to a business gala.”

I looked up.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes. The press will be there. They'll want to meet my wife.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“Smile. Be polite. Don't say anything unnecessary.”

I placed my fork down.

“You know, for someone who supposedly doesn't care about me, you're awfully concerned about controlling every little thing I do.”

His gaze sharpened.

“Don't confuse control with concern.”

“Don't worry. I wouldn't dare.”

I returned to my meal, determined not to let him see how much his words affected me.

But then his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, and something about his expression changed.

“Excuse me.”

He stood and walked toward the windows.

I wasn't trying to listen, but his voice was low and tense enough to catch my attention.

“I told you never to call this number again.”

A pause.

“No. She doesn't know anything.”

My hand froze around my glass.

She?

Who was he talking about?

Damien glanced in my direction. Our eyes met for a brief second before he turned his back to me.

“I'll handle it. Just stay away from my wife.”

My heart began to pound.

My wife.

He said it with such intensity that I almost forgot he was talking about me.

Then he ended the call and returned to the table as if nothing had happened.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“None of your business.”

“Were they talking about me?”

His expression turned cold.

“I said it's none of your business.”

I stared at him, searching for any hint of an explanation.

But there was nothing.

Only the same wall he had built between us from the very beginning.

I stood up.

“Fine. Keep your secrets, Damien. I have no interest in your personal life.”

I was about to leave when he spoke again.

“Arabella.”

I stopped.

“What?”

He looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.

“Whatever happens, don't trust anyone who approaches you because of this marriage.”

A chill ran down my spine.

“What does that mean?”

He looked away.

“Good night, Arabella.”

I wanted to demand an answer. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and force him to explain why he had married me, why he seemed to hate me, and why someone on the phone had sounded so threatening.

But I knew he wouldn't tell me anything.

So I walked upstairs without another word.

That night, I lay awake in my enormous bed, staring at the ceiling.

I had entered this marriage believing the worst thing Damien Kingsley could do was break my heart.

I was wrong.

Because at 11:47 p.m., my phone vibrated with a message from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

Arabella Sinclair, if you value your life, leave Damien Kingsley before it's too late.

My blood ran cold.

Another message arrived seconds later.

Ask your husband what happened to the woman he was supposed to marry before you.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding violently against my chest.

The woman he was supposed to marry?

My fingers trembled as I typed a reply.

ME: Who are you?

The message was marked as delivered.

But no answer came.

Instead, I heard footsteps outside my bedroom door.

Then a knock.

“Arabella? Open the door.”

Damien.

I quickly hid my phone beneath the pillow and opened the door.

He stood there in a black shirt, his expression unusually tense.

“Did someone contact you tonight?” he asked.

I froze.

For the first time since I had met him, Damien Kingsley didn't look arrogant.

He looked afraid.

And that frightened me more than anything else.

“Why?” I whispered. “What are you hiding from me?”

His eyes searched my face.

Then he stepped closer and said something that made my entire world stop.

“Because, Arabella, the woman who sent you that message…”

He paused, his jaw tightening.

“She's supposed to be dead.”

End of Chapter 2.