Chapter Three: Have a nice day

Alliyah Agustin-Astley

I couldn’t sleep a wink.

All night, I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts spinning like a broken record. I kept pinching myself, hoping—praying—that I’d wake up from this nightmare. But the cold bite of reality kept reminding me that this wasn’t a dream. It was real.

I had been fantasizing about my wedding night, but now, it was filled with nothing but silence, and I am not even married to the man I love.

“I just want an explanation,” I whispered into the silence, my voice trembling. “Why would Chester sell me off like this? Was any of it even real?”

Not a single person had questioned what happened. Not my parents. Not our friends. Not even Kassandrah. It was as if everyone had silently agreed to throw me into the fire and pretend it never happened.

“Is it because… this man is powerful?” I murmured to myself, trying to connect the fragments of this twisted puzzle. “The only people who could do this are the ones who live underground.”

The thought made my stomach twist. I reached for my phone, grateful to find that the Wi-Fi in this cold, marble estate wasn’t private. I connected as a guest and began searching.

Alexander Nicholas Astley.

The name flooded the screen with headlines, photos, and whispers of speculation. I’d seen his face before—on the covers of business magazines, flashing across the news, always in a crisp black suit and a shadowed expression that made even cameras hesitate. 

I remembered now. He was one of the most powerful businessmen in the world.

A billionaire with a reputation built on silence and fear. A man whose empire stretched across industries, no one dared to question. And beneath all that—rumors, whispers, stories too dangerous to print.

Some rumors online were saying that he also rules underground. A world of secrets, mafias, and blood money. 

I have been hearing about this world before, but I thought about it as some fantasy of other people. I stopped reading because it was too much to bear. 

Just when I was about to close my eyes to get some sleep, I nearly jumped out of my head when someone knocked on my door.

“Hello, madam, are you awake?” I heard a sweet voice outside that made me sit properly on the bed provided for me.

“I-I am.” So much for sleeping again.

The door opened with a soft click, and a young maid stepped inside — petite, neatly dressed in a black-and-white uniform, her hands steady but her gaze nervous.

“Good morning, madam,” she greeted politely, bowing her head.

I sat up, my body heavy with exhaustion. I hadn’t escaped all night. “Good morning,” I muttered, my voice hoarse.

“Mr. Astley requests that you join him for breakfast in the main dining hall,” she said softly, straightening her posture as if repeating instructions she’d been warned not to get wrong.

I blinked. “Requests?”

She hesitated, then lowered her eyes. “He said, ‘She will eat with me.’”

A chill ran down my spine. So it wasn’t a request, it was an order. I swallowed hard. “Where… where is the dining room?”

“I’ll escort you, madam,” she said, her tone respectful.

I rose slowly, wrapping the robe tighter around my body as she led me through long corridors lined with portraits of people who looked just as cold and untouchable as the man I was about to face. 

Every step echoed. The walls seemed to close in, swallowing sound, until the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat. When we reached the dining hall, the scent of roasted coffee and eggs filled the air — yet there was something about it that made my stomach twist rather than growl.

The room was vast, with chandeliers glimmering above and sunlight bleeding through tall glass windows. At the far end of the long mahogany table sat Alexander Nicholas Astley, reading something on a sleek tablet. 

His tie was undone, the first few buttons of his shirt open, sleeves rolled up to his forearms — a deliberate kind of disarray that somehow made him look more dangerous.

He didn’t glance up immediately, but when he did, his eyes found mine like a predator’s — steady, cold, assessing.

“Sit,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for refusal.

I obeyed, lowering myself into the chair across from him, the sound of the silverware clinking breaking the silence.

“You didn’t sleep,” he noted without looking up, cutting his food with surgical precision. Was it that obvious?

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Would you have, if you were me?”

That made him stop. His gaze lifted, locking with mine — calm, but sharp enough to make me shiver.

“No,” he said at last, setting his fork down. “But unlike you, I wouldn’t waste my energy fighting what’s already done.”

I clenched my hands beneath the table. “What’s already done? You mean stealing my life? My freedom?”

His lips curved faintly, a ghost of amusement. “Your life was never stolen, Alliyah. It was traded.”

“Traded?” I repeated, disbelief flooding through me. “For what? Money? Power? Debt?”

“For freedom,” he said simply, leaning back in his chair. “Chester’s freedom. Kassandra’s too, I suppose. They owed the wrong people — people I deal with when others are too afraid to get their hands dirty.”

I froze. “So they used me?”

“They offered you,” he corrected. “And I accepted.”

My stomach churned. “Why would they do that?”

Silence. Only the faint hum of the clock filled the air.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, voice lowering to something dark and smooth. “You’re here now. You wear my name, you live under my roof. So learn to stop questioning and start adapting.”

I glared at him, though my voice came out softer than I intended. “And what if I don’t?”

The faintest smirk tugged at his lips. “Then I’ll make sure you do. Also, from now on, you will be eating with me breakfast, lunch, and dinner when I am around the house.”

“I would like to request that you cook at least one meal for me if I am staying here. There are times I won’t be around because I have business matters to take care of. Is that understood?” he added.

Before I could answer, he stood abruptly, the chair scraping back against the marble. For a moment, he lingered beside me, his presence warm and cold all at once. Then, without warning, he leaned down — his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he whispered,

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Astley.”

After he said those words, he walked away — leaving me alone at the table. This jerk? I thought he wanted to have breakfast together?