The first rays of dawn slipped timidly through the velvet curtains of the Blackwood mansion, gilding the edges of the room in a fragile light. Elena stirred awake, her body cocooned in silken sheets that smelled faintly of lavender and smoke. For one suspended moment, she almost forgot where she was. The heavy silence of the room seemed unreal—too still, too imposing.
Then reality descended with crushing weight.
She was no longer in her parents' modest home. She was no longer free. She was the wife of Adrian Blackwood, a man who looked at her not as a companion, but as a burden he was forced to accept.
Her chest tightened as she sat up slowly. The bed beside her was empty, as she had expected. Adrian had not even spent the night here. A hollow pang of humiliation settled in her stomach, but she swallowed it down, pressing her palms to her cheeks to steady herself.
She could not afford to break—not now, not so soon.
A knock sounded at the door, crisp and deliberate. Before she could even respond, the door creaked open and a pair of maids entered, their eyes dropping in quick, professional bows.
"Good morning, Madam Blackwood," one said. The title landed awkwardly in the room, as if it didn't quite belong to Elena. "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence at breakfast in the east dining hall."
Elena blinked. He requested her? Not demanded, not ordered. Requested. It sounded polite, but there was no kindness in it. It was simply a command wrapped in silk.
She nodded mutely and allowed the maids to guide her through her morning routine. They brushed out her hair, dressed her in a pale ivory gown, and slipped soft slippers onto her feet. All the while, she caught the fleeting glances they exchanged—curious, cautious, almost pitying.
By the time she was led down the endless corridors of the mansion, Elena felt as though she were being escorted to a stage where every mistake would be noticed.
The east dining hall was a cavern of marble and crystal. A long table stretched across the room, glittering under a chandelier that seemed older than the city itself. Seated at the far end, as if he were a king on a throne, was Adrian.
He was dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, though his tie hung loose as if he hadn't bothered with perfection this morning. His eyes, dark and unreadable, lifted to hers the moment she entered.
Elena's breath caught in her throat. The sheer presence of him—sharp, commanding, cold—made the air feel heavier.
"You're late," he said flatly, though she had arrived exactly on time.
"I…I came as soon as I was told," she murmured, her voice small against the cavernous room.
His lips pressed into a line. "Sit."
She obeyed, lowering herself into the chair set deliberately far from him. The distance was another unspoken insult. Plates of fruit, bread, and eggs were already laid out, yet Elena found she had no appetite.
The silence stretched thin between them, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware as Adrian cut into his food. Elena's hands trembled faintly in her lap, though she kept her face carefully composed.
At last, he broke the silence. "There are rules you will follow in this house."
Her pulse quickened. Rules. Of course there would be rules.
"You will not interfere in my business. You will not embarrass me in public. You will remain discreet and invisible unless I require otherwise." His eyes met hers briefly, their steel biting into her soul. "In exchange, you will have every luxury at your disposal. Consider it…compensation."
Elena's throat tightened. Compensation? For what? For being shackled to a man who despised her existence?
"I understand," she said softly, though every word burned her tongue.
Adrian nodded once, then returned to his meal as if the conversation were already over.
The doors to the dining hall swung open suddenly, and a figure strolled in with lazy confidence.
Lucas.
His dark hair was tousled in deliberate disarray, his smile too easy, too dangerous. He carried the air of someone who belonged anywhere he stepped, even in Adrian Blackwood's domain.
"Well, well," Lucas drawled, his eyes sweeping over Elena with an amused glint. "The bride of the century joins us for breakfast. How charming."
Elena stiffened under his gaze, unsure whether to feel flattered or threatened.
Adrian's jaw tightened. "You weren't invited."
Lucas smirked, pulling out a chair without asking permission. "Since when have I needed an invitation, brother?"
The word hung in the air like a blade. Elena's heart lurched—brother?
Her eyes flicked between the two men. The resemblance was subtle but undeniable. Adrian's stoic sharpness, Lucas's mischievous charm—they were opposite ends of the same storm.
Lucas leaned back casually, his gaze locking on Elena. "Tell me, Mrs. Blackwood, how does it feel to wake up in this gilded cage?"
Heat rushed to Elena's cheeks. She fumbled for words, but Adrian's icy voice cut in first.
"Don't." His glare at Lucas was venomous. "Leave her out of your games."
Lucas only chuckled, tapping a finger against his chin. "Protective already? How interesting. I thought she was the bride you never wanted."
The jab struck deep. Adrian's eyes darkened, and Elena's stomach twisted. Was she merely a pawn in some twisted rivalry between these brothers?
Breakfast ended in a silence heavier than stone. Lucas sauntered out, whistling a tune, leaving Elena with more questions than answers.
When the hall finally emptied, Adrian rose, his shadow falling long across the table. He studied her for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"You don't belong in this house," he said quietly, almost to himself. "But since you are here, you will learn to survive."
Her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm not afraid to survive." The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His eyes narrowed, a flicker of something—surprise? amusement?—crossing his face. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Good," he said. "You'll need that courage."
Then, without warning, he dropped the words that would shatter the fragile ground beneath her feet.
"Tonight, you will accompany me to the Blackwood gala—as my wife."
Elena's breath caught. The Blackwood gala. A gathering of the most powerful families in the city. A place where appearances were everything.
She would be paraded like a trophy before people who knew exactly how unwanted she was.
Her heart pounded as Adrian turned and strode out, leaving her reeling in the echo of his command.
The chandelier above glittered mockingly, its light dazzling and cruel.
For the first time since stepping into this mansion, Elena felt the spark of rebellion flicker within her chest.
If this was to be her cage, then she would not remain a silent bird forever.
But the question clawed at her mind, relentless and cold:
Would survival mean surrendering to Adrian's icy world, or daring to fight for her own heart?
🔥 End of Chapter Four 🔥