Emma's Point of View
The morning light streamed through the windows of Ethan's estate, but the beauty of the view did little to calm my nerves. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the coffee cup in front of me, trying to focus on anything other than the storm that was brewing.
Ethan had been distant for the past few days, his mood colder than usual. He was always intense, but now there was a hard edge to him that made it impossible to ignore. I had an uncomfortable feeling that things were about to get worse.
"Good morning," I said quietly when I saw him enter the kitchen, his eyes dark with something I couldn't quite place.
He didn't respond immediately, instead grabbing a mug and pouring himself coffee. His silence made the air thick with tension, and I could feel my throat tighten.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low and clipped. "You need to get dressed. We're going out."
I didn't have time to ask why before he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. His commanding tone left no room for questions, so I did as he said. But as I stood in front of the mirror, the image staring back at me was not the woman I used to be. This contract marriage had already changed me.
Later, at the Meeting
When we arrived at the restaurant, the atmosphere felt heavy, and I could feel my nerves getting the best of me. Ethan led me to a private room at the back of the restaurant. There, sitting at the table, was a woman I didn't recognize. She was elegantly dressed, with a poised yet cold demeanor. Her eyes flicked over to me as we entered, and I could immediately tell she wasn't here for pleasantries.
"This is Delilah," Ethan said, his voice hard as he gestured toward her. "She's my betrothed."
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. His betrothed? What did that mean? My head spun, and I struggled to keep my composure.
I didn't have time to process the revelation. Delilah's gaze sharpened as she appraised me, her lips curling into a small, almost smug smile. "So this is the woman Ethan chose to marry," she said, her voice dripping with disdain.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady myself. "I'm Emma."
Delilah's eyes flicked over to Ethan, and I saw something pass between them—a look of understanding, perhaps. It made my stomach twist.
"You look... young," Delilah said with a tilt of her head, clearly trying to size me up. "How does it feel to be in such an... arrangement?"
I opened my mouth to respond, but Ethan cut in before I could speak. "This is not your business, Delilah."
The words were sharp, but there was something beneath them that made me realize just how much control Delilah still held over him. The way he spoke to her... it was as if he was used to obeying her, even now.
She smiled again, this time more knowingly. "Oh, but it is my business, Ethan. After all, you are still bound to me."
The implication hung in the air, I looked from Delilah to Ethan, trying to make sense of it all. Was this what he had been hiding from me? A past that still held him captive?
Ethan's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer her. Instead, he turned to me, his eyes cold and distant.
"Emma," he said, his voice low and controlled. "I don't want to have this conversation right now. I'll deal with you later."
His words sent a chill down my spine. What did he mean by that? I couldn't even ask, because before I could get another word out, he had turned away, walking toward the door without a second glance.
Back at the Estate
The silence in the car was suffocating as we made our way back to Ethan's estate. I could feel the distance between us growing with each passing minute, and my anxiety was growing. What had just happened? What was his relationship with Delilah? And why hadn't he told me about her?
When we arrived at the house, Ethan didn't say anything as he walked inside, and I followed him, unsure of what to do. He led me to the study, his expression unreadable.
"Sit down," he commanded, his voice hard.
I hesitated before sitting in the chair in front of his desk. The coldness in his demeanor made my stomach churn.
Ethan stood at the window, looking out over the estate, his back to me. The silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, and finally, he spoke again.
"Do you think you have the right to question me?" His voice was low, almost dangerously calm.
I swallowed, trying to keep my voice steady. "I—Ethan, I don't understand. Who is Delilah? Why didn't you tell me about her?"
He turned around, his eyes narrowing. "You really don't know your place, do you?"
The harshness in his words took me by surprise, and before I could respond, he took a step forward. "You are my wife, Emma, but that doesn't mean you have any say in my business." His voice was cold, cutting through me like ice. "And I will not tolerate your questions."
I stood up, my own anger starting to rise. "I deserve to know the truth, Ethan. This marriage—this contract—isn't just about you. I'm a part of it too."
He moved closer, his presence overwhelming. "You are part of this because I allow you to be. You are here because I made a decision. But you don't get to question me. Understand?"
I backed away instinctively, feeling the heat of his anger radiating off of him. But instead of stepping back, he advanced, cornering me against the wall. His gaze was unwavering, his jaw clenched.
"I don't care about your feelings, Emma," he said, his voice cold and cutting. "This is a business arrangement, not some fairy tale. So don't act like you have any say in it."
His words stung, but before I could respond, he grabbed my wrist, pulling me closer to him. "You will learn your place, Emma. I won't tolerate insubordination."
I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. "Let go of me," I spat, struggling to free myself.
His eyes filled with something—anger, frustration—but it only made him hold on tighter. "You think I care about your comfort? Your emotional state? You're nothing more than a pawn in this game."
I was breathless, my heart hammering in my chest, not from fear but from the overwhelming anger that boiled inside me. "I'm not your pawn, Ethan. I won't let you treat me like one."
Without warning, he shoved me back against the wall, his breath hot against my ear. "You'll learn quickly enough that your opinion doesn't matter. You'll do what I say, and you'll thank me for it."
I gasped, my body aching from the force, but it wasn't the physical pain that hurt the most—it was the realization that Ethan had crossed a line. His cruelty was no longer masked by cold professionalism; it was raw and real. And it scared me.
He stepped back, looking down at me with contempt. "You'll stay here and behave yourself. If you don't, there will be consequences."
I stood there, shaking in fear, trying to process everything. Ethan's harshness felt like a slap to my face. I wanted to shout, to fight back, but I knew better. He was no longer the man I had met at the club. He was something far darker, and I wasn't sure how much more I could take.
Later That Night
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window, my mind running high with everything that had happened. The conversation with Delilah had shaken me, but Ethan's behavior was far worse. It was like he had become a completely different person.
Suddenly, the door to the bedroom creaked open, and I turned to see Ethan standing there, his silhouette framed by the doorway. I tensed, unsure of what to expect.
"Don't think this is over, Emma," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You will learn to accept your place, or I'll make you."
My heart palpitated, but I forced myself to meet his gaze. "You can't keep treating me like this, Ethan. I'm not a toy for you to control."
He stepped forward, his eyes dark and intense. "I can do whatever I want, Emma. And you will obey me, whether you like it or not."
His words sent a shiver, and I couldn't stop the knot in my stomach from tightening. There was no escaping him now. The man I had married was ruthless, and I was trapped in his world, how will I cope, where will I be?
But I would survive. I had to.