The door to Elena's new life slammed shut behind her, marking an abrupt end.
She found herself in the grand entrance of Blackwood Mansion, feeling the oppressive silence weighing heavily around her. The house was vast too large for just two people yet it felt empty and lacked any warmth.
Alexander remained silent, loosening his tie and removing his black suit jacket before handing it to a waiting housekeeper and disappearing up the grand staircase.
No words of welcome. No inquiry about her well-being. No sign that she mattered.
Elena swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.
As she glided her fingers along the sleek marble walls, the gleaming chandeliers cast an unforgiving light. Everything in the house was exquisitely perfect—expensive, luxurious, and stunningly beautiful.
Yet, it felt like a prison.
A gilded, suffocating cage.
A gentle voice broke her reverie.
"Mrs. Blackwood."
She turned to see a middle-aged woman by the doorway, her expression warm yet cautious. Dressed in a pressed uniform, she clasped her hands in front of her.
"I'm Greta, the head housekeeper," the woman said softly. "If you need anything, please feel free to ask."
Elena mustered a feeble smile. "Thank you, Greta."
Greta paused before adding, "Dinner will be served in an hour. Mr. Blackwood typically dines alone, but I can arrange for something to be brought to your room if you'd prefer."
Elena's stomach twisted at the thought of "her" room.
So it was true—there was no "our" room, no shared space. Just another reminder that this was more of a contract than a marriage.
"I'll come downstairs," Elena replied, her voice steadier than she felt.
Greta nodded and left, leaving her once again by herself.
With a deep breath, she climbed the grand staircase, moving through the dim corridor until she found a door slightly ajar. She pushed it open and stepped inside.
Her bedroom.
Her breath caught in her throat.
It was stunning almost too stunning. A grand four-poster bed with silky sheets sat prominently in the center, a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and a private balcony with a view of the city skyline.
It was everything a girl could wish for.
But it felt… foreign.
She didn't belong there.
Approaching the vanity, she gazed at her reflection. The girl in the mirror looked transformed—her blue eyes filled with sorrow, her wedding dress immaculate yet feeling like a disguise.
A knock at the door caused her to jump.
She turned quickly to see Alexander leaning against the doorframe, his suit vest still on, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his strong forearms.
His gaze swept over her, emotionless.
"Are you settling in?"
His voice carried no warmth, almost as if her presence was a nuisance.
Elena inhaled sharply. "Am I allowed to?"
His lips curved into a smirk, but there was no humor in his eyes.
"As long as you keep the rules in mind."
The rules.
She had no freedom.
No voice.
No choices.
She clenched her fists. "Do you even care how I feel about any of this?"
A shadow crossed his face, something unreadable flashing in his stormy gray eyes before vanishing.
"You agreed to this, Elena," he replied frostily. "Don't pretend I forced you."
Her nails dug into her palms. "You did."
His expression remained unbroken, but his jaw tightened slightly.
"Be downstairs for dinner."
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her alone again.
Elena released a shaky breath, her heart racing.
He was cruel. Indifferent. Cold.
Yet, for a fleeting moment, she had glimpsed something deeper in his eyes.
Something hidden beneath the ice.
But she couldn't afford to care.
Because she was merely his captive in a gilded cage.
And captives rarely get happy endings.
DINNER WITH THE DEVIL
The dining hall was vast. A long, polished mahogany table spanned the length of the room, with chandeliers casting a warm glow over the lavish setting.
Alexander sat at the table's head, a glass of whiskey in hand, his attention fixed on his phone as Elena took her seat at the opposite end.
The space between them felt insurmountable.
A servant set an extravagant plate of food in front of her—something lavish and costly. But Elena had no desire to eat.
She absently pushed the food around with her fork as Alexander remained silent.
Minutes dragged on.
The only sounds were the clinking of utensils and the faint ticking of an antique clock on the wall.
Finally, she couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Why did you even marry me?" The question slipped out before she could stop herself.
Alexander finally looked up, his cold gray eyes locking onto hers.
"You already know the answer."
"For a deal."
He took a slow sip of his whiskey. "Exactly."
Her heart twisted painfully. "You didn't even think twice."
He let out a humorless chuckle. "Would it have changed anything?"
Her breath hitched.
She didn't know why she expected more. This was who he was: a man who viewed emotions as weaknesses, one who didn't hesitate to hurt others for his own gain.
"You could have chosen anyone," she murmured. "Why me?"
Something flickered in his gaze, but it vanished before she could grasp it.
"Because you were easy to control," he replied bluntly.
Elena felt her stomach churn.
She set her fork down, pushing the plate away. "I'm finished."
She stood up, but before she could move, his voice stopped her.
"Sit down."
She froze.
His tone wasn't loud, but it was authoritative.
Slowly, she turned back to him. "Why?"
His fingers tapped against the glass. "Because I said so."
Anger flared within her. "You don't own me, Alexander."
He smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Don't I?"
Her breath caught.
His gaze darkened, his expression inscrutable. "Sit. Down."
She hated how her body reacted, how his voice sent a shiver down her spine. But she wouldn't give in.
With her chin held high, she pivoted and walked away.
She expected him to call her back, to snap, to demand compliance.
But he didn't.
He simply let her go.
And for some reason…
That frightened her more.
LATE NIGHT ENCOUNTER
Elena lay awake, unable to sleep.
She sat on the edge of her bed, gazing out at the city lights through her window.
Her new reality was beginning to settle in.
She was wed to a man who didn't love her, a man who barely recognized her as a person.
A man who held her freedom captive.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
She turned to see Alexander standing there, his tie undone and his shirt slightly unfastened. He appeared less polished, more disheveled.
More… human.
Neither of them spoke.
His gaze lingered on her before he finally said, "You'll get used to it."
Elena swallowed. "To what?"
He leaned against the doorframe, watching her closely. "To being mine."
A shiver crept down her spine.
Then, without further words, he turned and melted into the shadows.
Leaving her to wonder if she would ever escape the gilded cage he had enclosed around her heart.