Chapter 2

[ ARIA’S POV ]

The car ride after the wedding was heavy. I sat by the window, twisting my hands in my lap as the city lights blurred past. Luca sat next to me, still and cold, acting like the whole day was nothing more than a task to finish. I didn't look at him because I didn't want to see that same expression he wore at the altar.

When the car finally stopped, he just said, "We're here". I stepped out into the cold air and looked up at the house. It was tall and distant, feeling less like a home and more like a place people are sent to against their will.

Inside, the place was too perfect. It had clean lines, quiet walls, and dim lighting that provided no warmth. The staff bowed their heads as Luca walked by, but nobody really looked at me. I followed him through endless, polished hallways until he stopped at a door.

"This is your room," he said. It wasn't ours. The space was large and neat, but it felt empty, like no one had ever actually lived there.

Before leaving, Luca laid out the rules

“Youre not allowed to go into parts of the house unless you’re told. You must not ask questions about things that did not concern you at any cost. You have to stay quiet when we are around my family, friends and associates. You’re not permitted to make any mistakes whatsoever.

“I will try," I said my voice so low and shaking

"Don't try. Just don't". Just learn quickly for your own sake and then he left, the door closing with a final click.

I kicked off my heels and took off the jewelry, trying to find some version of myself that felt real again. I looked out the window at the grounds, which were far too quiet to feel safe. Everything here felt decided for me.

A woman eventually came in to help me out of the dress. She was quick and practiced, asking no questions as if this were all perfectly normal. Once she left, I changed into my own simple clothes just so I could breathe.

I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. The house was silent, but it didn't feel empty. It felt like the walls were watching, waiting for me to step out of line. One thought stayed with me as I tried to sleep: this wasn't a home, and I was just a prisoner inside it.

I didn't sleep for long. It felt like I’d only just closed my eyes when a sound pulled me back—a door closing somewhere nearby. Not mine, but close enough to hear. I stayed still, staring at the ceiling and listening, but nothing followed. No voices, no footsteps. Just a silence that felt heavy and intentional.

I pushed myself up. The room was still dim, the early morning light not yet strong enough to clear the shadows. I swung my legs over the bed, my feet hitting the cold floor, and for a second, I just stood there. The house felt different at night, less like a polished museum and more like something real, something that didn't bother pretending while everyone was asleep.

He’d told me there were places I shouldn't go, but he hadn't said I couldn't leave my room. I opened my door just a crack. The hallway was empty and quiet, the dim lights stretching long shadows against the walls. I stepped out, closing the door behind me without a sound.

I started walking. I didn't really have a goal; I just needed to move. The floor was cool under my feet as I turned one corner, then another, trying to keep the path straight in my head. But after a few more turns, the hallways started to look identical. I stopped, looking around at the rows of closed doors and the stillness. I was lost.

"Great," I whispered to myself.

I turned to go back, but then I heard it again. A door opening. This time, it was much closer.

I froze. My heart started thudding against my ribs and I went completely still. The sound came from just down the hall. I knew I should run, turn around, find my room, and pretend I’d never left, but my feet wouldn't move. I looked, just a little, and that was enough.

A tall figure stepped out of a room. It was Luca.

My breath caught. He hadn't seen me yet, or at least I hoped he hadn't. He moved with that same slow, controlled energy he had during the day. He shut the door quietly and stood there for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought. Then, his head turned. He looked directly at me.

He’d known I was there the whole time.

My chest tightened as he started walking toward me. He wasn't rushing, but he was certain. I backed up until I hit the wall, and he stopped just a few feet away. Too close.

"You're not in your room," he said. His voice was low, but it carried.

"I couldn't sleep," I managed to say. It sounded like a weak excuse, even to my own ears.

His eyes didn't move. "That’s not an answer."

I swallowed hard. "I heard something."

There was a pause. "And you thought it was a good idea to go looking?" He didn't sound angry, which somehow made it feel more intimidating.

"I didn't think—"

"Exactly." He cut me off, and the silence that followed was thick and uncomfortable. "You don't wander this house," he added.

I curled my fingers into my palms. "I understand."

"Do you?" He stepped closer, just one step, but it was enough to make my breath hitch again. "This house isn't what you think it is."

"Why exactly are you even out here?" he muttered, his voice dropping an octave.

"I... I got lost," I stammered, the excuse sounding weak even to my own ears.

He didn't buy it. He kept coming, his shadow stretching over me. "Since you're the one who married me instead of your sister, it’s time you paid the price, don't you think?"

My heart hammered against my ribs—a sharp, frantic rhythm that actually hurt. I backed up until the cold stone of the wall hit my spine, but he didn't slow down. He stepped right into my space, his heat radiating off him.

"You should start doing what a wife is supposed to do," he whispered, leaning in close. "Keep my bed warm."

I panicked, shoving my hands against his shoulders to try and put some distance between us. He just looked down at my hands and let out a low, rough sound.

"Hmm. My wife’s already getting handsy? Guess you’re more eager than you look."