**Later that Day**
Anastasia gripped the steering wheel tighter as she pulled into the long driveway of the Harrington estate, the second phase.
The exhaustion from her first day at work showed on her face, but it was nothing compared to the sudden unease in her stomach.
Her heart stilled the moment she spotted Mason's white car already parked in its usual spot.
He's home.
She sat there for a moment, unmoving, as dread curled through her veins. In months, Mason had never returned home this early.
His late nights at the office had been an unspoken blessing for her, a reprieve from his presence.
For him to be here at five in the evening meant one thing; he was waiting for her!
Anastasia exhaled shakily and stepped out of the car, the sound of her heels tapping against the pavement, though her legs stumbled against each other.
'What is going on?' she wondered.
The morning's events came crashing back—his icy glare, his anger, and the way he had stormed off without a word.
She swallowed hard as she approached the grand front doors, pushing them open with practiced ease.
Mason sat on the pristine white couch, his large frame draped in a casual black shirt and dark slacks.
His sleeves were pushed up, revealing strong forearms, but it was his face that held her attention.
His jaw was tight, his brows furrowed in anger, and his stormy eyes were locked on her the second she stepped inside.
Anastasia froze. The tension in the room heightened.
"Home already?" Mason's voice rang out, low and cold.
She straightened her spine, trying to hold herself together.
"Yes," she replied quietly.
Mason didn't move at first, just watched her like a predator studying its prey. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he stood up.
His tall, intimidating figure stood before her, making her feel smaller than ever.
"Explain," he said sharply.
She blinked, feigning ignorance. "Explain what?"
His gaze hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Don't play games with me, Anastasia. What exactly do you think you're doing coming to my company to work?"
Anastasia lowered her gaze, trying to appear calm even as her heart throbbed aggressively.
"Your grandfather arranged it," she said softly. "He set everything up. I didn't have a choice—"
"Don't you dare use my grandfather as an excuse." Mason stepped closer, cutting her off.
"I'm not—"
"You are," he interjected sharply. "And you know damn well what you've done. You walked into my company...into my space, knowing full well no one must know you're my wife."
"I...I didn't tell anyone," her voice trembled.
"And you think that matters?" Mason snapped, his tone biting. "The fact that you were there at all is a problem!"
Anastasia clenched her fists at her sides, forcing herself to remain still, though her suppressed anger simmered in her eyes.
She had known this confrontation was coming... but she just hadn't expected it to be this brutal.
Then Mason's sharp gaze pinned her in place.
"Do you remember the five rules I gave you on the night of our wedding?"
Following his question, her breath caught in her throat. The rules? Of course she remembered them. How could she forget?
When she didn't answer right away, Mason's voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "Say them."
Anastasia swallowed the lump in her throat and began, her voice barely above a whisper.
"One…"
Mason raised a finger, signaling the count.
"One," she repeated, her voice steady despite the sting in her chest. "No meddling in your affairs."
Mason's face remained impassive, though his eyes narrowed. He raised another finger.
"Two," she continued. "No talking about the marriage to anyone."
Another finger.
"Thr... three," her voice wavered slightly. "No falling in love."
Mason's expression didn't soften. His fingers rose in count.
"Four," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly at her sides. "I should always stay three steps away from you whenever we're standing together."
The final finger rose.
"And the fifth?" Mason's voice was quiet, but his authority filled the room.
Anastasia's lips parted as she struggled to force out the words. "I...I must always wear my wedding ring wherever I go."
The room instantly fell silent. Mason's eyes dropped to her hand, his gaze like a dagger.
"Then tell me," he said darkly, "why are you not wearing your wedding ring?"
Anastasia froze, her entire body going stiff as her eyes dropped to her bare finger, the realization hitting her like a freight train.
She wasn't wearing it.
Suddenly, it all came back to her. That morning, as she prepared to take a bath, she'd slipped the ring off and placed it on her dresser.
But afterward...when her nerves had been tied in knots about starting work at his company, she'd completely forgotten to put it back on.
All her focus had been on getting through the day.
She opened her mouth to explain, but before she could get a word out, both their phones beeped simultaneously, the sound cutting through the moment.
Mason pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen, before he returned the gaze at her.
"Dinner with the family. Seven o'clock."
Anastasia didn't need to check her own phone to know what it was. The Harrington family dinner...a tradition held every two weeks at the family house.
Everyone was expected to be there, and skipping was never an option, especially for her.
It was yet another setting where she felt like a ghost among people who didn't want her there.
Mason slid his phone back into his pocket, his tone curt and clipped. "Go wear it now, and get prepared!"
He didn't wait for her reply, brushing past her as though she weren't there.
The faint scent of his expensive cologne lingered in the air as he disappeared down the hallway to his room.
'Why does he even care about the ring?' Anastasia thought, as she stood there for a moment, her pulse still unsteady.
Slowly, she exhaled, the tension in her body easing just slightly.
"It's fine," she told herself. "Just get through this."
She turned on her heels and walked briskly to her room. The moment she entered, her eyes went straight to the small, delicate ring lying on the dresser.
It gleamed under the soft light, mocking her.
Anastasia picked it up and slid it onto her finger, as a reminder of everything it symbolized...her role, her place, her cage.
After freshening up, she dressed in a simple yet elegant peach dress that fitted her curves perfectly.
She stared at her reflection for a moment, ensuring everything was in place before stepping out of the room.
Mason was already waiting near the front door, dressed in his signature black suit that fit his body with tailored precision.
He didn't say a word as his sharp eyes swept over her appearance, assessing her, before he turned on his heels and stepped outside.
The drive to the Harrington family house was quiet, none of them saying a word to each other.
Anastasia kept her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the passing city lights outside the car window...
By the time they arrived at the sprawling main Harrington estate, it was nearly 7:30 PM. The massive house was ablaze with light, the sounds of distant chatter spilling out from the grand dining room windows.
Anastasia stepped out of the car, clutching her small black purse tightly.
As they walked toward the entrance, Mason's strides were long and confident, while she trailed just slightly behind him, keeping the unspoken three steps of distance he'd once demanded.
Inside, the atmosphere was both warm and cold at once.
Almost everyone was already seated in the massive dining room, Mason's extended family, and their wives, were all present.
Mason's mother, Evelyn Harrington, sat near the head of the table, her posture perfect and regal.
She looked up as Mason entered, her gaze briefly landing on Anastasia. The faintest smile tugged at Evelyn's lips, though it was more out of obligation than affection.
"Welcome, Mason," Evelyn said warmly, rising to her feet to greet her son. Her tone shifted ever so slightly when her gaze returned to Anastasia.
"Anastasia," Evelyn called out gently.
"Good evening, Mother." Anastasia nodded as she forced a polite smile.
"Evening," Evelyn replied coolly before sitting back down, her disinterest written on her face.
The other wives... Lena and Claire—watched Anastasia with disdain, their perfectly painted faces frozen in practiced smiles.
They were both dressed impeccably, adorned with jewelry that glittered under the chandelier's light.
Anastasia ignored their looks and made her way toward Mason's grandfather, Mr. Harrington Sr., who was seated at the head of the table.
The old man's face lit up the moment he saw her, his smile warm and genuine.
"Anastasia, my dear," he said, holding out a hand to her. "You look lovely tonight."
"Thank you, Grandpa," Anastasia replied softly, her smile finally reaching her eyes.
Mason stepped forward then, greeting his grandfather with a nod. The affection the old man held for his grandson was clear in his proud smile.
Everyone knew Mason was his favorite.
"Sit, sit," the grandfather said cheerfully, gesturing to the table.
Mason pulled out a chair near his grandfather and sat down, leaving Anastasia to quietly take her seat beside him.
The quiet murmurs of conversation resumed, though Anastasia could still feel the occasional disgust glance cast her way.
Just as the first dishes were about to be served, the large dining room doors swung open, the sound echoing loudly enough to bring everything to a halt.
Every head turned... Every voice went silent.
And then, he stepped inside.
The figure was tall and familiar, his presence both commanding and unexpected.
It was Nicholas Harrington, Mason's younger stepbrother.
The man who had been absent for the past five years from the family, ever since their father's death…