CHAPTER 3: A WIFE ON DISPLAY

Aria slept poorly.

Not because of nightmares but because the silence in Ashford Manor was too perfect. Too controlled. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for her to make a

mistake.

Morning came without warmth.

A knock sounded at exactly six a.m.

“Mrs. Ashford,” a woman’s voice called through the door. “Your schedule.”

Schedule.

Aria sat up slowly, her chest tightening. She hadn’t agreed to a schedule.

But then again, she hadn’t been given much choice about anything.

Two women entered moments later efficient, expressionless. One laid out a navy dress on the bed. Elegant. Expensive. Restrictive.

“Mr. Ashford selected this,” one of them said.

Aria ran her fingers over the fabric. It felt cold.

“Where am I going?” she asked.

“A breakfast meeting,” the woman replied. “With the board.”

Aria’s heart skipped.

“The board?” she echoed. “Lucien didn’t tell me”

“He doesn’t need to,” the woman said gently, but firmly. “Please prepare.”

By the time Aria entered the dining room, Lucien was already seated.

He didn’t look up.

The table was long intentionally so. Distance built into the furniture. Power embedded into every detail.

“Sit,” he said, eyes still on his tablet.

She obeyed.

Breakfast passed in silence. He read reports. She picked at her food. Each second stretched unbearably long.

“You’ll speak today only if spoken to,” Lucien said without warning. “You’ll smile when appropriate. You’ll stand beside me at all times.”

She looked up. “Lucien”

His gaze snapped to hers.

Cold. Sharp. Warning.

“This is not a conversation,” he said quietly. “It’s instruction.”

Her throat tightened. “You’re using me.”

“Yes,” he replied calmly. “That was established.”

They drove to Ashford Tower together.

The car was quiet too quiet. The city blurred past the tinted windows, but Aria barely noticed. Her pulse thudded loudly in her ears.

When they arrived, everything changed.

Doors opened. Cameras flashed. Voices murmured.

Lucien’s hand settled on her lower back.

Possessive. Deliberate.

She stiffened.

“Relax,” he murmured near her ear. “If you look uncomfortable, people will ask questions.”

The touch was not gentle but it was practiced. The kind meant for an audience.

Inside the boardroom, the air shifted instantly.

Eyes turned. Conversations halted.

“So this is the wife,” someone said lightly.

Lucien smiled a rare sight. Dangerous because it wasn’t real.

“My wife,” he corrected.

He pulled out a chair for her. The gesture earned approving nods.

Aria sat, aware of every gaze dissecting her.

“She’s… young,” one board member commented.

Lucien’s fingers tightened briefly on the back of her chair.

“Young enough to learn,” he said. “And obedient.”

The word hit like a slap.

Aria kept her face still.

Inside, something cracked.

Throughout the meeting, they spoke about mergers, acquisitions, hostile takeovers—about ruining companies as casually as one might discuss the weather.

Lives reduced to numbers.

At one point, Lucien leaned toward her.

“Smile,” he whispered. “You look tense.”

She smiled.

Her jaw ached from holding it.

When a board member asked her a polite question something harmless about adjusting to married life—Aria opened her mouth.

Lucien answered for her.

“She’s adjusting beautifully,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

The meeting ended with applause.

As soon as the doors closed, Lucien’s hand dropped from her back.

The warmth vanished.

“You spoke without permission,” he said calmly as they walked down the corridor.

“I answered a question,” she replied.

“You don’t answer,” he said. “You exist.”

The words hollowed her out.

They stopped in front of an elevator. He turned to face her fully.

Up close, his expression was terrifyingly composed.

“Let me make something clear,” Lucien said. “You are not my equal. You are not my partner. You are a symbol I wear when it benefits me.”

Her nails dug into her palms.

“If you humiliate me again,” he continued, “I will make you regret it.”

Something flared in her chest fear, yes, but also anger.

“You enjoy this,” she said quietly. “Making me feel small.”

For the first time, his calm fractured.

His eyes darkened.

“Careful,” he warned. “You don’t want to know what I enjoy.”

The elevator doors opened.

Inside, silence pressed down again.

At Ashford Manor later that night, Aria stood alone in her room, staring at her reflection.

The dress was still perfect.

She wasn’t.

Her phone buzzed with a single message from her father.

The debt is gone. We’re safe. Thank you.

Tears blurred her vision.

She had saved them.

At the cost of herself.

Down the hall, Lucien stood in the shadows of his study, watching the security feed that showed Aria entering her room.He didn’t look away.

“Strong,” he murmured. “Still standing.”

His jaw tightened.

That was a problem.

Because breaking her was supposed to be easy.

And the longer she endured…

…the more dangerous she became.