Episode 4
The dining hall was as vast as a ballroom — glittering chandeliers, long velvet curtains, and a polished table that could seat thirty people.
But only two seats were occupied that night.
Aria sat at the far end, her back straight, trying not to let the silence crush her. Across from her, Lucien Blackwood sipped red wine, his expression unreadable, his gaze occasionally flicking toward her like a lion observing his prey.
This wasn't dinner.
This was judgment.
"I assume you don't drink?" he finally asked, his voice calm, almost bored.
She shook her head. "No, sir."
His brow arched. "Lucien. You're my wife now."
She swallowed. "Lucien."
He didn't smile. Just set his glass down and cut into his steak with surgical precision.
Aria glanced at her untouched plate. Lobster tail, truffle risotto, and a dish she couldn't even name. The aroma was divine, but her stomach twisted with nerves.
"Eat," Lucien said without looking at her.
She picked up her fork obediently. Her hand trembled.
"Has no one taught you how to dine?" His voice was sharp this time.
"I— I'm sorry," she stammered, placing her fork down immediately. "I'll learn."
Lucien finally looked up. His gaze locked with hers. "Learn quickly. I don't tolerate embarrassment."
Aria felt the sting of those words like a slap.
She clenched her jaw. "Yes… Lucien."
The door to the dining hall creaked open, and a man in glasses stepped in, holding a sleek black folder.
"Mr. Blackwood," he said. "Your schedule for tomorrow."
Lucien didn't even glance at him. "Leave it. And tell Carter to be ready by six."
"Yes, sir." The assistant gave Aria a curious glance before leaving.
Lucien noticed.
"You'll meet people who want to know everything about you. Ignore them," he said.
Aria nodded. "Understood."
After a few more minutes of tense silence, Lucien finally rose from his seat. "Come."
She quickly stood, nearly knocking over her glass in the process. He didn't wait for her.
She followed him out of the dining hall, her heels clicking against the marble floor.
As they walked down the corridor, Aria dared to speak. "Are we… going somewhere?"
He glanced over his shoulder. "You'll accompany me to a charity gala tomorrow."
"A gala?"
"You'll smile, look beautiful, and say nothing."
"I see."
Lucien stopped walking. Turned around slowly.
His eyes bore into her. "Don't speak like a servant. I didn't marry a maid."
Aria's heart thudded.
"I'm sorry."
"You keep apologizing," he said. "But never improving."
She bit her tongue, holding back the retort forming on her lips.
Lucien's gaze drifted to her trembling hands. Then back to her face.
"I'll send Clara to train you," he said. "You'll learn how to behave like a Blackwood."
Her head lowered. "Yes."
He turned and walked away.
As he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, Aria stood still — fighting back tears, her heart aching.
Was this how every night would be?
Was this her future?
Later that night
In her room, Aria sat by the window, staring out into the rain-drenched garden. She wrapped a shawl tightly around herself, craving warmth — not from the cold, but from the emptiness growing inside her.
Her phone buzzed.
Ethan: "Sis! Guess what? I walked today. Just a few steps, but I did it! The doctors said I'm healing faster than expected. Mom cried. Thank you. I love you!"
A soft sob escaped her lips.
This was why she was here. This was worth the pain.
Wasn't it?
Suddenly, a knock.
She wiped her face. "Yes?"
The door opened and a woman in a sleek black dress stepped in. She was tall, graceful, and carried a tablet in one hand.
"I'm Clara. Mr. Blackwood's personal stylist and etiquette coach."
"Oh… hello."
"Let's begin."
"Begin?"
"You have 14 hours to learn how to walk, talk, and smile like the Devil's wife," Clara said briskly. "So stand up."
Aria blinked.
"You may hate him. You may fear him. But if you humiliate him in public, you're done. Understood?"
Aria stood slowly. "Understood."
Clara looked her up and down. "We have a lot of work to do."
For the next hour, Aria was drilled on posture, eye contact, how to smile without showing teeth, how to speak with confidence, how to wear heels like armor.
"You will not shrink. You will not tremble. You will walk into that gala tomorrow like you belong there," Clara said firmly. "Because if you don't, you won't survive this marriage."
Aria's chest tightened.
Survive.
Was that the goal now?
Not happiness. Not love. Just survival.
As the clock struck midnight, Clara finally left her with one last instruction:
"Don't forget — behind every powerful man is a woman who knows how to wear his darkness like a crown."
Aria stood in front of the mirror.
She no longer recognized the girl in the reflection.
But maybe… that's what it would take to win this war.
💔 To be continued…
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