The Blake estate felt different that evening—quieter, heavier, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath. Ayla stood before the gilded mirror in her room, adjusting the silk gown that clung to her figure like a whispered secret. It was Adrian's choice, of course. A box had been delivered to her door earlier, inside a dress so expensive it made her palms sweat to touch it.
Her reflection stared back at her, hesitant yet strangely resolute. She had promised herself she wouldn't let Adrian Blake dictate who she was, even if she was bound to him by paper and ink. But tonight, she was stepping into his world again—a dinner that was more than just a meal.
A knock on her door broke her thoughts. One of the maids entered, her expression neutral. "Mr. Blake is waiting for you in the dining hall. The guests have already arrived."
Ayla's heart gave a small jolt. Guests. He hadn't mentioned that. For a man so precise, Adrian Blake was a master at throwing her off balance.
---
The dining hall glittered under crystal chandeliers, a room built to impress. The table stretched far too long, adorned with candles and fine china, as if they were about to host royalty. At the head sat Adrian, his charcoal suit perfectly tailored, his presence commanding the entire space. Around him were half a dozen people—men and women with sharp eyes and sharper smiles.
Ayla felt every gaze turn toward her as she entered, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Adrian rose slightly, not quite smiling but acknowledging her presence. "Gentlemen, ladies… my wife, Ayla."
The word wife lingered in the air like a spark waiting to ignite. She forced herself to walk forward, her chin lifted, though her pulse raced.
One of the women, elegant in a blood-red dress, leaned forward with a sly smile. "So this is the mystery bride. Adrian, you do know how to surprise us."
Ayla caught the subtle undertone, the way everyone's eyes flickered between her and Adrian, as though dissecting every unspoken detail. Were they doubting her? Judging her? Or worse… testing her?
Adrian's hand lightly brushed hers as he guided her to the seat beside him. It wasn't affection—it was control, a silent reminder that every move here was part of a performance.
---
As the dinner progressed, Ayla began to understand the tension threading through the room. These weren't just business partners. They were sharks circling each other, each conversation laced with hidden barbs. Discussions about investments and power moves slipped easily into veiled threats, and more than once, she caught Adrian exchanging glances with a man across the table—a tall, silver-haired figure whose polite smile didn't reach his eyes.
Halfway through, Ayla excused herself, needing air. The corridors of the estate felt like a maze, and for a moment, she simply leaned against a cold marble pillar, trying to steady her breathing.
That's when she heard it—two voices, hushed but urgent, drifting from a partially open door nearby.
"…Blake's distracted. The girl is leverage. If we move quickly, the Orion deal collapses, and so does he."
Ayla's blood ran cold. She edged closer, careful not to make a sound.
"We can't act too soon," another voice replied. "He's always three steps ahead. But the girl… she's the one variable he can't control. Use her, and the rest falls apart."
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the doorway. They were talking about her. About using her to destroy Adrian.
Before she could retreat, the door creaked slightly under her weight. The voices stopped. A shadow shifted, and Ayla bolted down the hallway, her heartbeat hammering in her ears.
---
When she returned to the dining hall, Adrian's sharp gaze immediately locked on her. He stood, excusing himself from the table, and intercepted her near the staircase.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice low but edged with steel.
She hesitated. If she told him, would it help—or would it make things worse? "Nothing," she said finally, forcing her tone to remain even. "Just needed some air."
Adrian's eyes narrowed. He didn't believe her, not entirely. But instead of pressing, he leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear. "In my world, Ayla, secrets don't keep for long. And neither do people who hold them."
The warning sent a shiver down her spine, but beneath it, another sensation stirred—something unexplainable, a pull she couldn't name.
---
Later that night, Ayla sat on the edge of her bed, replaying the voices she'd heard. She knew she should tell Adrian. She also knew that the moment she did, her life would become even more entangled in his dangerous empire.
Her phone buzzed again. Another message from the same unknown number as before:
"You heard them, didn't you? Be careful. Trust no one—not even him."
Her breath caught. Whoever was behind these warnings knew more than they should.
For the first time, Ayla realized this wasn't just about pretending to be a billionaire's wife anymore. She was a pawn on a board she barely understood—and the game had only just begun.