Chapter Two: Terms and conditions

The wedding ended the way it began—beautiful on the outside, hollow within.

Amara sat beside Lucas in the back of the black luxury car, her hands folded tightly in her lap. The silence between them was thick, suffocating, broken only by the hum of the engine and the city noise slipping past the tinted windows.

He hadn’t looked at her once since they left the chapel.

The diamond on her finger felt heavy, like a chain she couldn’t remove.

When the car finally stopped, Amara looked up, confused. This wasn’t the grand Harrington estate she’d seen in magazines and news articles.

“Where are we?” she asked quietly.

Lucas unbuttoned his cufflinks with sharp, precise movements. “My apartment.”

“I thought we were going to—”

“The estate is under renovation,” he cut in coldly. “You’ll stay here.”

You’ll stay. Not we.

The driver opened the door. Lucas stepped out without waiting for her. Amara followed, smoothing her dress as if it could still protect her dignity.

The apartment was massive, modern, and empty—glass walls, steel finishes, and no warmth anywhere. It felt like a place meant to impress, not live in.

Lucas tossed his jacket onto a chair and finally turned to face her.

“This marriage is an arrangement,” he said bluntly. “Nothing more.”

Amara swallowed. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His gaze hardened. “So I’ll make it clear.”

He walked toward her slowly, stopping just close enough to be intimidating.

“You will live here. You will attend public events when necessary. You will behave as my wife in public and remain invisible in private.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her gown. “And what about—”

“There will be no expectations,” he continued, voice sharp. “No emotional involvement. No demands. No illusions.”

She nodded again, though her chest ached. “I didn’t marry you for love, Lucas.”

That finally got a reaction.

His eyebrow lifted slightly. “Good. Then we’re aligned.”

He turned away and poured himself a drink. The clink of ice echoed through the room.

“There’s a guest room down the hall,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable.”

A guest room.

Amara hesitated. “Lucas… why me?”

He paused, glass halfway to his lips.

“Because you were available,” he replied without turning around. “And because you don’t matter.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

She didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say that wouldn’t shatter her pride completely.

Amara took the stairs slowly, changing out of the wedding gown alone. As she folded the dress carefully into its box, tears finally slid down her cheeks—but she wiped them away quickly.

Crying wouldn’t change anything.

Later that night, sleep refused to come. The bed felt too large, the apartment too quiet. Around midnight, she heard voices downstairs.

Lucas.

And a woman.

Her heart skipped painfully as laughter floated up the staircase—soft, familiar, intimate. Amara froze, standing barefoot in the hallway.

A door opened.

“She was never supposed to be there,” a woman’s voice said sharply. “You promised me.”

Amara’s breath caught.

Isabella.

“I didn’t have a choice,” Lucas replied, his tone tense. “You disappeared.”

“I was scared,” Isabella snapped. “But you married her anyway.”

A long pause.

“I married a solution,” Lucas said. “Not a wife.”

Amara pressed a hand to her mouth, heart shattering silently as she realized the truth.

Isabella hadn’t vanished.

She had returned.

And she wasn’t done fighting.

“I want her gone,” Isabella said coldly.

Lucas exhaled slowly.

“I know.”

Amara stepped back into the shadows just as the voices faded.

Her hands trembled.

She wasn’t just unwanted.

She was temporary.

And for the first time since the wedding, Amara understood something terrifying—

This marriage wasn’t just loveless.

It was a battlefield.