---
Anastasia barely remembered leaving the penthouse.
The moment Leonidas had said, "You are not to fall in love with me," something in her chest had twisted.
The words had been cold, final.
A warning.
Yet… why had it felt like a lie?
She leaned back in the car seat as the driver took her home. The city lights blurred outside the window, her mind spinning with questions.
Leonidas Kosta was not an ordinary man.
And this was not an ordinary marriage.
She should be relieved that he had no interest in love.
It made things easier.
Didn't it?
---
Two days passed in a whirlwind.
The media had exploded with the news: Leonidas Kosta was getting married.
Every major outlet speculated on the last-minute change of brides—where was Isabella Vasquez? Why had she disappeared? And who was this mysterious Anastasia Vasquez, the lesser-known daughter?
No one had expected it.
No one believed she deserved him.
And she had started to believe it, too.
Until the wedding day.
___
The ceremony was lavish, extravagant—a billion-dollar display of power rather than love.
Anastasia stood in a breathtaking gown, surrounded by guests who barely acknowledged her existence.
It was his wedding, not hers.
She felt like a spectator in her own life.
And then, the moment came.
Leonidas stood before her, tall and commanding, in an impeccably tailored black suit. His obsidian eyes locked onto hers, revealing nothing.
The officiant spoke the words.
Leonidas never hesitated.
"I do."
His voice was deep, final.
It was her turn.
She swallowed. This was it. The end of Anastasia Vasquez, the forgotten heiress—and the beginning of Mrs. Kosta, the wife of the most feared billionaire in the world.
"…I do."
The moment the words left her lips, something changed in his eyes.
It was subtle.
But it was there.
Possession.
---
She braced herself for the kiss.
After all, every couple sealed their vows with one.
But Leonidas simply took her hand, sliding a cool platinum band onto her finger.
No kiss.
No emotion.
Just a firm, silent declaration of ownership.
Then, he leaned in—just enough for only her to hear.
"Welcome to my world, Anastasia."
Her pulse stuttered.
Because for the first time, it didn't feel like she had been forced into his world.
It felt like he had planned this all along.
---
The First Night
The reception was a blur of champagne, forced smiles, and whispered gossip.
Leonidas barely left her side, his presence a constant shadow beside her.
When it was finally time to leave, she found herself escorted to his private car, her hands clutching the silky folds of her dress.
The ride was silent.
Tense.
She didn't dare look at him.
And then, they arrived.
His penthouse.
Not her family's mansion.
Not a honeymoon suite.
His territory.
Her breath hitched as he opened the car door for her. His touch was brief—just a brush of his fingers against her wrist.
But the heat of it burned.
She stepped inside, her heart pounding.
The door shut behind them with a quiet click.
She turned to face him.
Leonidas watched her with something unreadable in his dark gaze.
And then, finally, he spoke.
"Go to bed."
A pause.
"My room or yours, it's your choice."
Her stomach flipped.
She knew what he was offering—control. A decision. A cold, practical agreement.
And yet…
She also knew he was watching her every move.
Testing her.
Waiting.
Slowly, she met his gaze.
And for the first time, she wondered—if he wanted her to choose him.