CHAPTER 5.

Natasha’s POV.

“Is this really the only way?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them, like a desperate plea for an alternative.

“Please… what if you give me some time to find a job? I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

I was grasping at straws, saying anything that came to mind, hoping for a different outcome. But he just stood there, silent, his face unreadable, like a mask that hid all his thoughts and emotions.

There wasn’t even a flicker of consideration in his expression. He looked like someone who had already made up his mind and was just waiting for me to catch up.

At that moment, I felt something collapse inside me. Not loudly, but quietly—like a door closing softly behind me. I knew I was out of options. I knew there was no bargaining left to do. And I hated how helpless I felt, how cornered I was.

I didn’t actually say yes, I didn’t even think I nodded. But something in my silence must have spoken for me, because the next thing I knew, he stood up, adjusted the sleeves of his suit with a quiet finality, and said, “We’re going to register the marriage tonight.”

I blinked. “Tonight? Can I at least go home first? I need to see my mother… and my father.”

His answer came cold and quick. “The moment you agreed, they were already being taken care of.”

And that was it. There was no room to pause, no chance to breathe or think it through. He wasn’t giving me time to change my mind, and he definitely wasn’t going to hold my hand through this. To him, this wasn’t emotional or complicated. This was business.

I followed him out of the room like someone sleepwalking. My legs moved on their own, disconnected from everything else.

The butler was already waiting at the door as if this had all been planned down to the second.

The car ride happened too fast. One minute we left the mansion, the next we were at the registry office.

To my shock, my mother was already there. She sat in the waiting area like she hadn't been in police custody earlier, her shoulders slumped, her hands clutching the strap of her purse like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

There were tears in her eyes, but she didn’t say a word to me. She didn’t ask if I was okay. She didn’t apologize. She just looked at me with this quiet and crushed expression that made me feel worse than anything she could’ve said.

She looked like a woman who had failed her daughter and didn’t know how to fix it.

And I didn’t know what to say to her either. So we said nothing. Just sat there, silent, until it was time to sign the papers. And with that, it was done. I was no longer Natasha Bennett. I was someone’s wife. His wife.

He handed the pen back to the registrar, then turned to me like he was already onto the next thing.

“You’ll meet my family tomorrow,” he said, completely matter-of-fact.

“Be ready. We will be leaving by nine” I opened my mouth, unsure what I was even trying to ask—what do I wear? What should I say? Will they hate me? But nothing came out.

So I just gave a small nod, like that was all I had left in me.

He brought me to what I assumed was his house. The house was massive and pristine, like something out of a magazine. Marble floors, tall ceilings, untouched furniture—it didn’t feel like a home.

“You’ll stay here,” he said, showing me into a room that could have fit my entire old apartment twice over.

“Get some rest.” He started to leave but paused at the door, glancing back at me.

“I am Sylvester Mason, by the way. I already know you are Natasha.”

With that, he disappeared out of the room. I stood there, completely alone, in a room that didn’t belong to me, in a life that didn’t feel real. I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream or fall apart. I just stood there feeling empty. Like someone who had been picked up and dropped into a story, they didn’t understand.

The next morning, I woke up early. I dressed in the only presentable thing I found, a blue dress I found in the closet. I tied my hair back, brushed on some light makeup I also found, and sat by the window waiting.

At exactly nine, the butler from last night arrived.

He didn’t speak, just nodded politely and led me to the car. The drive was quiet with him concentrating on his phone while my mind was filled with so many things.

When we reached his family’s estate, my nerves began to twist. The house looked more like a royal residence than a family home.

The gates, the gardens, and the building itself—it all felt too grand. He stepped out of the car first, still glued to his phone.

Without even looking at me, he said, “Go in ahead of me. I’ll join you soon.”

I hesitated. “Alone?”

He didn’t respond. Just walked off without even a glance, already speaking sharply into his phone.

I was just coming for the first time and didn't know my way around, how could he act so heartlessly?

“Hello, Mrs. Mason. I’ll escort you,” someone said behind me. I turned to see the family butler and silently followed, my heart pounding.

When I stepped into the sitting room, I stopped dead.

Josh was there. And so was Amara. They looked completely at ease like they were waiting for tea to be served. Like this was just another regular day for them. Josh looked startled when he saw me, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened slightly.

Amara, on the other hand, stood up slowly, her face hardening. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said. “What are you doing here?” I stood still, trying to breathe.

“Don’t tell me you came all the way here to my family home to beg,” she went on. “For him? Or that job you clearly weren’t good enough for?”

“Amara,” Josh said, trying to touch her arm. She shrugged him off.

“No. Let her answer. What’s the point of pretending anymore? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

I opened my mouth to speak, to defend myself, but I didn’t get the chance.

“Don’t speak to my wife like that.” The voice came from behind me, it was Slyvester’s.

He stood in the doorway, completely composed, as if nothing in the world could shake him.

Amara froze, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock.

“Your… wife?” she stammered, her voice rising a little too loudly in the room.

“Are you kidding me, Uncle Sylvester?” She looked from him to me, like she was trying to convince herself she hadn’t heard correctly.

“Yes,” he said calmly like he was stating a plain fact.

“She is my wife. And you will speak to her with the respect she deserves.”

Amara’s mouth hung open for another second before she snapped it shut.

I could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to gather herself, trying to act like none of this bothered her. Like she hadn’t just been knocked completely off balance.

“Wow,” she finally said, smoothing her hands down her dress and forcing a tight smile onto her face.

“You got married at last. Congratulations.”

But there was no warmth in her voice. No genuine happiness. Only a sharp edge hidden underneath the fake politeness.

Then she turned her attention to me. Her eyes raked over me slowly, the way someone might look at a stain on an expensive carpet.

“You poor thing,” she said with a sad little shake of her head like she actually pitied me.

“Was that how desperate you were to marry a rich man after losing everything?” she continued, her voice filled with mock sympathy.

“You just accepted whatever was thrown your way? No questions asked? No shame?”

I gripped the hem of my dress to keep my hands from trembling. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice but making sure every word hit its mark.

“Do you even know what you’ve signed up for? And what you have walked into?”

Her words slid under my skin like cold water. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I just stood there, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on me all at once.

And for the first time since the night before, a sliver of real fear snuck in. Maybe I didn’t know what I had signed up for. Maybe I was standing at the edge of something far bigger and far darker than I could even imagine.