Chapter 2: The Clause in the Marriage

“Take it off.”

I froze in the middle of the bedroom. Nathaniel stood by the mirror, casually removing his cufflinks, as if he hadn’t just ordered me to shed my identity.

My fingers tightened around the skirt of my wedding dress. “Excuse me?”

“The dress,” he repeated without glancing my way. “Take it off.”

Heat rushed to my face. Of course, this was how my marriage would begin; no tenderness, no nervous laughter, just an order.

I lifted my chin defiantly. “You first.”

His fingers paused, and slowly, his gaze met mine through the mirror. For the first time that night, something flickered across his face, something threatening.

“You have a mouth on you for someone who trembled at the altar.”

“And you have quite the audacity for a man who trapped a woman into marrying him.”

Silence enveloped us, the kind that made the room feel smaller.

Nathaniel turned to face me fully. Under the dim light, he looked nothing like a groom. He looked like a verdict.

“You should learn when to stop talking, Claire.”

I smiled, even as my heart hammered in my chest. “And you should learn that being my husband doesn’t make you my owner.”

His gaze dropped, scanning me briefly before fixing on the dress that clung to me like a punishment. When he met my eyes again, they were cold.

“Relax. I won’t touch you.”

That should have relieved me, but it didn’t. It offended me, confused me, twisted something ugly in my chest. Because Nathaniel Blackwell didn’t really touch me on our wedding night, not after the cold kiss in the chapel, not at the reception, where he held my waist like I was a possession.

Alone in the master bedroom of the Blackwell mansion, I felt trapped. The room was larger than my childhood apartment, dark walls, high windows, silk sheets, a crystal chandelier hanging above us like an art piece.

Everything exuded wealth, nothing warmth.

Nathaniel continued removing his cufflinks, his movements precise. I stood near the door, still wrapped in my wedding dress, clutching the fabric as if it could shield me from the man who had just become my husband.

He caught my reflection. “Relax,” he insisted.

“I hate when you say that.”

His fingers paused, then he turned, eyes colder now. “You looked back at him.”

My throat tightened. Adrian.

I lifted my chin. “You knew what happened.”

“I did.”

My heart raced. “And you still went through with the wedding?”

Nathaniel approached, deliberate and slow. “I chose you before the wedding, Claire. Before anything happened between you two.”

“No. You chose me because of him.”

For a moment, a flicker crossed his eyes, something almost human. Then it vanished. “You give yourself too little credit. You were useful for more than that.”

His words landed like a slap, and I hated him for it; his perfect face, his expensive suit, his calm cruelty. Most of all, I hated that Adrian’s name hung between us like a specter.

“What now? Do you punish me? Lock me up? Parade me around?”

Nathaniel stopped inches from me, the scent of his perfume filling the air. “Nothing happens tonight.”

I blinked, disbelief washing over me. “What?”

“You will sleep here.”

My body went rigid. “I will not.”

“You will,” he insisted. “Everyone in this house will notice if my wife spends her first night elsewhere.”

My stomach churned. “And you?”

He smirked faintly. “I have work.”

“Nathaniel—”

He stepped toward the door, coat in hand.

“Why marry me if you don’t want me?” I demanded.

His hand rested on the door handle, silence thick with tension until he looked back. “I never said I didn’t want you.”

My pulse raced, but then he opened the door and left me there; in his room, in his bed, in a wedding dress that felt like a costume for a role I never auditioned for.

I didn't sleep. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw Adrian at the altar, his face, his hands, his voice calling my name.

By morning, I had removed my dress myself, no maid, no husband, no comfort, just me, barefoot in front of the mirror, staring at the red marks the corset left on my skin.

At breakfast, the Blackwell dining room buzzed with energy. Nathaniel sat at the head of the table, absorbed in his phone, as though he hadn’t wrecked my life less than twenty-four hours ago.

Across from him sat Victor Blackwell, older and sharper, while Nathaniel’s mother observed, elegant and silent. Adrian stood by the window, arms crossed, still in yesterday's suit, looking like he hadn’t slept either.

Our eyes met, and the air thinned.

“Sit, Claire,” Nathaniel ordered.

Not ‘wife.’ Not ‘darling.’ Just ‘Claire.’

I sat beside him, acutely aware of the servants watching. In this house, humiliation was always public.

Victor smiled at me, not kindly. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” I replied quietly.

“You slept well?”

My fingers tightened around the napkin on my lap. Before I could answer, Nathaniel interjected, “She is adjusting.”

Adrian laughed softly. “Adjusting? Is that what we call it now?”

Nathaniel’s gaze lifted. “Careful.”

“Or what? You’ll send me away again?”

That shattered the air. I glanced between the brothers; Nathaniel’s expression was unchanging, but something icy simmered beneath the surface. Victor placed his cup down.

“Adrian.” That one word carried a weight of warning.

Adrian ignored him, fixing his gaze on Nathaniel. “Relax, brother. I’m leaving soon anyway. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

My stomach dropped.

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “For once, do not make a scene.”

Adrian turned to me, his anger softening just enough to hurt. “Congratulations again, Mrs. Blackwell.”

The name felt wrong coming from him. He walked out before anyone could stop him.

I stood without thinking.

Nathaniel’s hand closed around my wrist, firm yet invisible to everyone else. “Sit down,” he commanded.

I met his gaze, calm yet unyielding. His grip tightened. “I said sit down.”

I pulled away. “No.”

The room fell silent; Nathaniel’s mother looked at me like I had just ignited a fuse.

I stepped away, following Adrian into the hall.

He braced himself against the railing, head lowered as if fighting for breath. “Adrian,” I called softly.

He turned, eyes fierce. “Do not say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you have the right to break me twice.”

The words cut deeper than they should have. “I didn’t know.”

“Then why marry him?”

I swallowed hard. “I had no choice.”

Adrian stepped closer, a dangerous spark igniting in his eyes. I remembered the hotel room, his hands, how he had made me feel like I mattered.

But then he glanced at my wedding ring, and his expression hardened. “We all have choices, Claire. Some pay more for them.”

Before I could respond, Nathaniel’s voice sliced through the tension.

“Touching reunion.”

I turned to see him at the end of the hall, eyes fixed on Adrian.

Adrian smirked. “There he is. The happy groom.”

Nathaniel approached, cold and controlled. “Leave.”

Adrian’s jaw flexed. “You already arranged that, didn’t you?”

“What does he mean?” I asked, confusion swirling.

Adrian met my gaze. “He sent me abroad after he found out about you.”

“What?”

Adrian’s pain echoed in his eyes. “He knew before the wedding. He knew I wanted to find you again.”

Nathaniel remained silent, but his lack of denial shook me. “You sent him away because of me?”

His gaze turned icy. “I sent him away because he wants what isn’t his.”

Adrian stepped forward, tension humming in the air. For a moment, I thought they might fight.

Then Victor’s voice sliced through. “That’s enough.”

We all turned to see him standing by the dining room entrance, a folder in hand.

“Since everyone is awake, perhaps it’s time Claire understands what this marriage truly requires.”

My blood ran cold.

Nathaniel’s expression shifted just slightly, revealing a hint of worry.

Victor opened the folder, his tone chillingly casual. “One year,” he stated. “That’s all this marriage has.

"What?” My breath caught.

“One year to produce a Blackwell heir. If this marriage fails, Nathaniel loses his claim to the empire.”

My heart raced, pounding against my ribcage.

Victor’s gaze shifted to Adrian. “And control shifts to his brother.”

He locked eyes with me, the gravity of his words sinking in like lead.

“As for you, if you cannot give my son a child, this union dissolves. The Blackwell protection disappears, along with it, your family's debts return. The fraud case reopens.”