Chapter 3: The Three Rules

The ballroom still hummed with muted astonishment, delicate strings from the orchestra weaving a graceful attempt to soften the weight of what had just been announced. People clapped, some discreetly gasped behind champagne flutes, and others glanced between Leon and me with thinly veiled curiosity — the kind that pierced deeper than any spotlight.

I stood there, motionless, trying to steady my breath as I stared at him.

Leon Albourne.

His expression was composed, noble, unreadable. The kind of look that belonged on the cover of financial magazines and international press — not facing the woman he was about to marry without so much as a full sentence exchanged between them in years.

But his eyes… they held something different. Something quiet.

Something only I could hear.

“Valerie,” a gentle, elegant voice broke through the noise. “We’re so delighted.”

I turned and found myself face-to-face with Leon’s mother, Lady Celeste Albourne. She was striking — tall, graceful, her eyes a cool crystal blue that softened only slightly when she looked at me. She kissed me on both cheeks, a gloved hand lightly brushing my arm in affection.

“My dear, you’ve grown into such a fine young woman,” she said, her voice delicate and poised. “We’ve waited so long for this day. Leon… well, he’s always been difficult to read. But believe me, he never questioned this.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. I forced a smile. “Thank you… Lady Celeste. I—”

“Oh please, you’re family now. Call me Mother,” she said with a warm but subtly commanding smile.

Behind her, Lord Albourne, Leon’s father, gave me a small nod. Stoic. Measured. “The seal may be ancient, but the world we’ve built today rests in your hands now. Keep your head high, Valerie. The public won’t know — but your duty begins tonight.”

Leon stood beside me, silent as always, eyes occasionally flicking toward me but never settling long enough to give anything away.

But the tension? It was there.

Thick. Cold. Yet oddly comforting — like the first frost of winter against skin that had been waiting for change.

After the banquet, we said our goodbyes to the guests — at least the ones who weren’t busy speculating behind well-mannered smiles. I’d never smiled so much in one night, nor swallowed my nerves this hard. It wasn’t just the announcement.

It was him.

Leon.

And the truth that we would now live together. Secretly married. Publicly distant.

The car ride back to the estate was long, quiet. I sat beside him in the back seat of the dark car, my fingers twitching against the hem of my dress. Leon stared out the window, one hand under his chin, legs crossed in that signature CEO posture he wore in every board meeting — dignified, unreadable, and completely detached.

Only now, he was my husband.

Secretly.

We arrived at the estate just past midnight. The Albourne mansion — now our shared home — was a modern fortress of stone, glass, and moonlight. Set against a forested hill, the architecture was dark and regal, softened by the warm glow of golden chandeliers visible through massive windows.

A butler opened the door for us.

“Welcome home, Mr. and Mrs. Albourne,” he greeted with a respectful bow.

The title hit me like a splash of ice water.

Mrs. Albourne.

Leon didn’t flinch.

I followed him inside, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The air smelled of lavender and aged leather, everything elegant, minimal, and masculine. The kind of place that looked like it was meant for a man who had no time for softness — only structure, power, and control.

We entered the grand salon — a place I guessed would become more familiar soon. Leon turned, finally facing me fully.

“You’ll have the east wing. I stay in the west,” he said plainly, voice calm and deep, no emotion behind it. “You’ll be free to do as you please as long as the press or staff doesn’t suspect anything.”

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms.

“And that’s it?” I asked. “No welcome? No congratulations?”

He paused for half a second. Then something faint — barely there — passed through his gaze.

“I figured you wouldn’t want theatrics,” he said.

Touché.

Leon walked to the fireplace, where an untouched glass of whiskey waited. He poured himself a small amount, sipped, then looked at me over the rim of his glass.

“I propose we set some rules,” he said.

I blinked. “Rules?”

“Yes. It’s a contract in all but name. We live together now. We need to avoid chaos.”

Of course he would treat a marriage like a merger.

Still, I nodded. “Fine. Let’s hear it, Mr. Perfect Prince.”

He almost smiled — but didn’t.

Rule One.

“We keep our relationship a secret outside the family. No PDA. No couple behavior in public. At AV Tech, you're Valerie Vale the employee. I’m Director Albourne. That’s it.”

Easy enough. I was used to hiding.

I nodded.

Rule Two.

“No one outside this estate sleeps here overnight — no friends, no family, no guests. Privacy is absolute. Especially with staff present.”

Also reasonable. This mansion was a palace, but it was also a cage.

“Done,” I agreed.

Rule Three.

“No falling in love.”

That one… hit differently.

I stared at him, the words lodging somewhere between my ribs.

He met my eyes for the first time since we got here — and this time, the mask slipped for just a second.

His voice was quieter. “We both have our lives. This arrangement is royal tradition. Not a love story.”

I swallowed hard, something tightening in my chest. A laugh almost escaped me — not because it was funny, but because I didn’t know whether to feel offended… or relieved.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Director. I’m not looking for fairy tales,” I said, masking my own voice with a cool edge.

He stared at me a moment longer, like he wanted to say something else.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned and walked toward the west hallway.

And I stood alone in the quiet, dim glow of our new life — half a wife, half a stranger.

Three rules.

Simple.

Uncomplicated.

And yet… deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder—

What happens if one of us breaks them?