Lena awoke to the muted hum of the Blackwood estate. Dawn's light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden streaks across the lavish bedroom. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. Then reality settled in.
Her fingers brushed against the wedding band on her left hand a symbol of everything she had lost and everything she had yet to endure.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Mrs. Blackwood?" A maid entered, her voice polite but distant. "Mr. Blackwood has already left for the day. Breakfast is ready whenever you'd like."
Of course, he was gone.
Lena didn't know whether to feel relieved or irritated. Damian had barely spent a moment acknowledging her since their wedding. What had she expected? A warm good morning? A husband who cared about anything beyond his empire?
She slipped out of bed, determined not to dwell on it.
After a quick shower, she dressed in a soft cream blouse and tailored slacks—polished but comfortable. If she was going to be trapped in this mansion, she might as well explore.
The Blackwood estate was vast, almost unnervingly so. The halls stretched endlessly, lined with expensive artwork and relics of wealth. Yet, despite its beauty, there was a distinct lack of warmth.
Lena had seen palaces with more heart.
She wandered through the main hall, stopping as she reached the library. The doors were slightly ajar. Pushing them open, she stepped inside, taking in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes. A grand fireplace stood at the far end, and the scent of aged paper filled the air.
It was the kind of room she could lose herself in.
Running her fingers along the spines of books, she pulled one free, flipping through its worn pages. She had just settled into one of the leather armchairs when a voice cut through the silence.
"You're making yourself at home."
Lena turned sharply, her pulse quickening. Damian stood in the doorway, his presence as commanding as ever. Dressed in a dark three-piece suit, he looked every bit the powerful man the world feared.
"I live here now, don't I?" she countered, setting the book down.
His gaze swept over her, unreadable. "That remains to be seen."
A flicker of irritation sparked within her. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
Damian strode further inside, his movements measured. "It means," he said smoothly, "that I don't know if you're here to play the role of dutiful wife or simply to bide your time until you figure out a way to leave."
Lena met his stare head-on. "Does it matter?"
Something shifted in his expression subtle, almost imperceptible. "Not to me."
Lies.
But she didn't call him on it.
Instead, she rose from the chair, stepping past him toward the door. "Then I guess we understand each other."
She had barely made it two steps when he spoke again.
"Lena."
She hesitated, turning slightly.
His gaze was darker now, a quiet intensity beneath the cold façade. "You may not have chosen this marriage, but you're in it now. Be careful where you tread."
A warning.
Or a promise.
Lena wasn't sure which unnerved her more.