FIVE

KATE POV:

I stepped out of the steaming bathroom, toweling my damp hair as I moved toward the vanity. The early morning sunlight filtered in through the French windows, warm and golden against the cold marbled floors of the mansion. It was my second day as Mrs. Voss, and still, I hadn’t managed to feel like I belonged here.

After slipping into a simple white blouse and a pair of jeans, I walked out of the room and headed downstairs. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten that much food last night, more out of nerves than hunger.

The dining room was bathed in golden light. And there he was Nikolai Voss already seated at the long table, a half-eaten plate of eggs and toast in front of him. He didn’t glance up as I walked in, and I didn’t offer him the courtesy either. Our silent war was intact.

We were still going around with the silent malice, and I don't plan on breaking it anytime soon. As long as he doesn't give me a hard time. Then I don't care if he ignores me. As long as he's not torturing me.

“Good morning, Della,” I said as I sat down across from Nikolai but kept my eyes on the woman who managed the estate like a fortress. Della was in her mid-fifties, with soft gray hair tied neatly in a bun and a warm maternal smile. She was one of the few people in this house who didn’t look at me like I was a stain on expensive silk.

She looked at me with care, like a mother hen staring at her chicks.

“Good morning, darling,” she said, her voice calm and warm. “You’re up early. Did you have a good night's rest?” She asked.

I reached for a buttered croissant from the tray in front of me. “ Yes I did. I want to go shopping today. I didn’t exactly bring much when I moved in.”

Della nodded, looking thoughtful. “Understandable. You’ll need proper wear, and shoes. Perhaps a few accessories. Nikolai should’ve thought of that.”

Still, he said nothing.

Della reached into the small drawer at the corner of the dining sideboard and retrieved two cards. One black and sleek—the exclusive Voss credit card. The other gold-rimmed and thinly embossed with a Voss insignia.

“This one,” she handed me the black card, “is for the shopping. No limit. Nikolai’s household account. And this,” she added, offering the Voss card, “will grant you VIP access and protection. Some of the top stores are Voss-owned. They’ll treat you like royalty.”

“Thank you,” I said, shooting her a grateful smile. Nikolai stared at Della for a few seconds and went back to eating his toast.

“I’ll assign one of the maids to accompany you,” she added.

“I’d appreciate that.”

Nikolai remained silent, his jaw stiff and shoulders square. I felt his eyes flicker toward me once, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of returning the look. Let him stew in his hate. I wasn’t here to please him. I needed to clear my head and be out of this prison called home.

After breakfast, I headed back upstairs to grab my phone and bag. When I came down again, the car keys to Nikolai’s silver Aston Martin sat on the hallway table. The chauffeur, Thomas, stood waiting. Another one of Nikolai drivers.

“This is Mr. Voss’s car,” I said with a raised brow. I'm not sure he's aware of me taking his car.

“Madam, Madam Della has asked me to prepare Mr. Voss's car specially for you." Thomas replied with a slight bow.

I smiled to myself. Perhaps Della’s influence ran deeper than I thought.

As I stepped into the car, the maid a girl named Pia followed closely behind. She was young, no older than twenty-two, and quiet. She kept her head low like the rest of the maids, afraid to meet my gaze.

The ride to the mall was smooth until we pulled up at the entrance of La Belle Galleria, one of the elite malls in the city.

I hadn’t anticipated the crowd. They were a lot of people here.

Flashes blinded me the moment I stepped out of the car. Journalists. Influencers. Paparazzi. They crowded the sidewalk, cameras clicking, mics being pushed toward my face. They wanted to see the woman that the Famous Mr. Voss married.

They wanted to know why he pulled a silly prank to fool the entire media people. They wanted to know what life was like living with one of the most wealthiest man.

“Mrs. Voss, is it true that you married in place of your sister?”

“Did Mr. Voss know you were switching places at the altar?”

“Are you and Mr. Voss really in love or is this a contract marriage?”

“Why was Rhea Valdez seen at the airport the night before the wedding?”

"Why did Mr Nikolai decide to pull a public stunt to fool everyone?"

"Have you and Mr. Voss done the dead already?"

The last question made me laugh. They all didn't have any idea. They're all hear to fish out any slight information and feed it to the people.

I kept my face blank, expression schooled, just like Della had told me the night before. ‘Smile, but don’t speak. You are Mrs. Voss now. They don’t need your truth.’ I did as she had told me too.

With her words ringing in my ears, I glided past the crowd, Pia beside me, shielding me from too much physical contact.

The paparazzi had only followed me once before, during the time it went public that Father had an affair outside marriage and had me. After then, I laid low and the news died down and they never bothered me again.

Father had something to do with him. I had overheard him angrily screaming from his office.

We walked into the mall as the cameras kept flashing.

Inside, the staff was prepared. Word must have gotten to them. The mall manager and several assistants were already at the door, guiding us inside with hushed reverence. They were all smiling and welcoming us.

“Mrs. Voss, welcome,” the manager said with a practiced bow. “We have set aside private space for your shopping. This way, please. You will love everything we'll offer you.”

In the boutique suites reserved only for the elite, I was treated like a queen. I tried on tailored suits, silk blouses, leather boots, and everything in between. Pia followed with a notebook, keeping record of all that I selected. I didn't even want so many of this clothes I had worn, but they just looked so good.

And the manager had a way of convincing me to buy everything in the mall.

A few times, my mind wandered. What would Nikolai think of this dress? Would he even notice it? Did he even see me as a woman? Would he care how much I spent on all my dresses?

No. I shut the thoughts down. He would never see me. He still only saw Rhea’s betrayal. He had loved her way before the contract, Dad just used that to his benefit.

After nearly four hours, I had several bags loaded into the car. Dresses, shoes, makeup, even perfume. And I hardly wore make up.

On the way home, I leaned back into the leather seat, exhausted but strangely satisfied. Shopping had given me a small slice of autonomy in a life where every other thing felt borrowed.

It had wandered my mind away from everything including Nikolai, and just about which dress I was going to choose, or which shoe goes better with the clothes I had gotten.

I had managed to get out of the house and gotten fresh air. Being stuck in my room all day was messing with my head.

As we pulled into the Voss mansion driveway, the sun had dipped low, casting a bronze hue over the garden.

I stepped out of the car, arms aching from the weight of bags I refused to let Pia carry, but after I figured they were to plenty to carry by myself, she offered her help again and I allowed her. As I walked through the foyer, I passed him.

Nikolai. He stood near the stairs, scrolling through his phone. He was still in his office wears, meaning he got home a little while ago.

I didn’t glance at him. I kept my face forward, with the bags heavy on my hands.

Didn’t pause.

Didn’t even breathe his name.

I walked right past him, the clack of my heels echoing off the marble floor. Walked into my room and dumped the bags on the king sized bed.

His silence was deafening.

But for once, it didn’t hurt.

For once, I wore my name like a crown: Mrs. Kate Voss.

And I didn’t need his permission to carry it.