Chapter Two

She did not sleep again.

She lay on the edge of the bed, wrapped tightly in the sheets as though fabric alone could protect her, staring at the faint line of light creeping in through the heavy curtains. Morning came quietly, without apology, as if nothing irreversible had happened during the night.

Behind her, he moved.

Not suddenly. Not loudly. The mattress dipped with controlled ease, and she felt the shift immediately, her body responding before her mind could catch up. She did not turn around.

“You don’t need to pretend you’re asleep,” he said.

His voice was calm, irritatingly so, like a man discussing schedules instead of dismantling someone’s life.

“I’m not,” she replied.

“Good.”

She finally turned, sitting up again, keeping distance between them. He was already dressed, dark trousers, crisp shirt, sleeves rolled back slightly. He looked composed. Untouched. Like the night before had cost him nothing.

“Where is your brother?” she asked.

He adjusted his cuff slowly. “Safe.”

Her jaw tightened. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting for now.”

“For now,” she repeated. “So this is temporary to you?”

He paused, then looked at her directly. “Nothing about this is temporary.”

The words landed heavily.

She stood, the floor cold beneath her feet. “You don’t get to decide that.”

“I already did.”

She laughed, sharp and humorless. “You really think you can control this because you signed a few documents?”

“No,” he replied evenly. “I think I control this because everyone else will protect what happened.”

Her stomach twisted. “Why would they?”

“Because,” he said, stepping closer, “this family survives on appearances. And right now, you are the appearance.”

She clenched her fists. “I didn’t agree to this.”

“You agreed to a marriage,” he said. “The name was never the most important part.”

She looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, fear settled deeper than panic.

“You planned this,” she whispered.

“Yes.”

The honesty unsettled her more than denial would have.

“Why me?”

He studied her for a long moment before answering. “Because you were the one my brother never questioned.”

Her chest tightened. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It will,” he said.

A knock interrupted them.

Sharp. Precise. Confident.

He turned toward the door without hesitation. “Come in.”

An older woman stepped inside, impeccably dressed, her eyes immediately scanning the room, then landing on her with calculated warmth.

“Good morning,” the woman said. “I trust you slept well.”

She stared at her in disbelief.

“I—”

“This is Mrs. Calder,” he said smoothly. “She manages the household.”

Mrs. Calder smiled. “Congratulations on your marriage. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”

Marriage.

The word echoed painfully.

Mrs. Calder glanced at him. “Your family expects you downstairs within the hour.”

“I’ll join them,” he replied.

The woman nodded and turned to her. “If you need anything, you may ask me.”

Then she left.

The door closed softly.

She felt the walls closing in.

“You told them already,” she said.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even wait.”

“There was no reason to.”

Her voice shook. “They think I chose you.”

“They think you are my wife,” he corrected. “The rest doesn’t matter.”

She stepped back. “I won’t play along.”

He watched her carefully. “You will.”

Her eyes burned. “You’re enjoying this.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I’m managing it.”

“That’s worse.”

He took a step closer, stopping just short of touching her. “You can scream. You can fight. You can refuse to eat or attend or smile. But when you walk into that room, you will do so beside me.”

“And if I don’t?”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “Then my brother loses everything he was protecting.”

Her breath hitched.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I already did,” he said.

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating.

She turned away, anger and helplessness warring inside her. She wanted to break something. To run. To disappear. Instead, she did the only thing left to her.

She straightened her shoulders.

“When this ends,” she said, “you’ll regret it.”

He watched her closely, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“When this ends,” he replied, “you won’t want it to.”

She looked back at him sharply. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

A faint smile crossed his face. “I don’t need to.”

A moment later, he opened the door and gestured toward the hallway.

“Come,” he said. “They’re waiting.”

She hesitated only a second before stepping forward.

Not because she accepted this.

But because she refused to be crushed by it.

And as she crossed the threshold beside him, she did not notice the way his gaze softened, just slightly, as though the war he had started had finally begun to interest him.