*Maya's POV*
I tripped over my own feet and crashed into a table that probably cost more than Carlos's surgery.
A crystal vase wobbled dangerously, and I lunged forward to catch it before it hit the floor. My heart hammered as I carefully set it back down.
"Careful," Alexander said without turning around. "That's a Ming dynasty antique."
"Sorry," I mumbled, following him through what felt like the biggest house in the world.
We'd left the hospital an hour ago after watching Carlos get wheeled into surgery. The doctors said everything looked good, but it would be six hours before we knew if the operation worked.
Six hours of waiting. Six hours of sitting in Alexander's house, pretending to be his happy wife.
"This is the living room," Alexander said, pointing to a space bigger than our entire restaurant. "You're welcome to use it, but please don't touch anything valuable."
Everything looked valuable. The sofas were white leather that probably cost more than Papa's car. Paintings covered the walls - not the kind you buy at department stores, but the kind you see in museums.
"How do you remember where everything is?" I asked.
"I don't use most of these rooms."
"Then why have them?"
Alexander stopped walking and looked at me like I'd asked why the sky was blue. "Because I can afford them."
We kept walking through room after room. A dining room with a table for twenty people. A library with books reaching from floor to ceiling. A music room with a piano that looked like it belonged in a fancy concert hall.
Each room was perfect and beautiful and completely empty of any sign that actual people lived here.
"Where are all your pictures?" I asked.
"What pictures?"
"Family photos. Friends. You know, memories."
"I don't keep photographs."
"Why not?"
Alexander's jaw tightened. "I don't see the point in dwelling on the past."
We climbed a staircase that curved like something from a fairy tale. My sneakers squeaked on the marble steps, sounding ridiculously loud in the silence.
"The master bedroom is down that hallway," Alexander said, pointing left. "You won't need to go there."
"Where do I sleep?"
"This way."
He led me down the opposite hallway and stopped at a door near the end. When he opened it, I gasped.
The bedroom was bigger than my family's entire apartment. A huge bed sat in the center, covered in pillows and blankets that looked softer than clouds. Windows stretched from floor to ceiling, showing a view of the city that took my breath away.
"This is mine?" I asked.
"For the duration of our arrangement, yes."
I walked inside, my feet sinking into carpet so thick it felt like walking on marshmallows. There was a TV bigger than the one at our restaurant, a desk by the windows, and doors leading to what looked like a walk-in closet.
"The bathroom is through there," Alexander said, pointing to another door. "You'll find everything you need."
I peeked inside and nearly fainted. The bathroom had a bathtub big enough to swim in, a shower with more buttons and knobs than a spaceship, and a mirror surrounded by lights like movie stars had.
"Alexander, this is too much. I can't—"
"You can and you will." His voice was sharp. "Image matters in my world. You represent me now, which means you need to look the part."
"What if I don't want to look the part?"
"Then you should have thought of that before you married me."
The words stung, but I pushed down my hurt feelings. This was about Carlos, not my pride.
"What are the rules?" I asked.
Alexander pulled out his phone and started reading like he was giving a business presentation. "First, you will attend all social functions I require. No exceptions."
"What kind of functions?"
"Charity galas, business dinners, company parties. Places where I need to appear married and settled."
"Okay. What else?"
"Second, you will not embarrass me. That means appropriate clothing, proper manners, and no public outbursts like what happened with Isabella today."
My cheeks burned. "I didn't do anything wrong with Isabella."
"You let her upset you. In my world, showing emotion is showing weakness."
"So I'm supposed to be a robot like you?"
Alexander's eyes flashed dangerously. "You're supposed to be smart enough to survive among people who would eat you alive for entertainment."
That sent a chill down my spine. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the people in my social circle are not like your family, Maya. They're not kind or forgiving. They look for weakness and exploit it. They'll smile to your face while planning to destroy you behind your back."
"Sounds like wonderful friends."
"They're not friends. They're business associates, competitors, and potential enemies. Never forget that."
Alexander kept reading from his phone. "Third, you will not discuss our arrangement with anyone. As far as the world knows, we met, fell in love, and got married."
"What if someone asks how we met?"
"We met at a charity event for children's hospitals. We bonded over our shared desire to help sick kids. Very romantic."
The lie rolled off his tongue so easily it scared me.
"Fourth, you will not enter my office or my bedroom without permission. I value my privacy."
"What if there's an emergency?"
"Call my assistant. She'll handle it."
"What if you're hurt and need help?"
Alexander looked at me like I'd suggested he might need help tying his shoes. "I won't be."
"Everyone needs help sometimes."
"I don't."
The way he said it made me sad. Everyone needed help. Everyone needed someone to care about them when they were sick or scared or alone.
But Alexander Kane had built walls so high around himself that he couldn't even imagine letting anyone climb them.
"Is that all?" I asked.
"One more thing. This marriage has an end date. Two years from today, we'll divorce quietly, and you'll receive your settlement. Don't get attached."
"Attached to what?"
"To this lifestyle. To me. To the idea that this is real."
His words hit me harder than they should have. I knew this was fake. I knew it was just business. But hearing him say it so coldly made my chest ache.
"I won't," I lied.
"Good." Alexander started to leave, then paused at the door. "Dinner is at seven. Don't be late."
"Where?"
"The dining room. Someone will come get you."
"You mean we eat together?"
"We're married, Maya. Married couples eat dinner together. It's part of the act."
After he left, I sat on the edge of the huge bed and tried not to cry.
This room was beautiful, but it felt like the fanciest prison cell in the world. Everything was perfect and cold and empty, just like Alexander.
I pulled out my phone and called Papa.
"Mija! How did the surgery go?"
"Still waiting. The doctors say it'll be a few more hours."
"And the wedding?"
I looked down at my wedding ring. "It happened."
"How do you feel?"
Like I just sold my soul to the devil, I wanted to say. Instead, I said, "Tired. It's been a long day."
"Are you okay? You sound sad."
"I'm fine, Papa. Just worried about Carlos."
We talked for a few more minutes before I hung up. Then I lay down on the huge bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling more alone than I'd ever felt in my life.
Around nine o'clock, someone knocked on my door. It was a woman in a uniform who introduced herself as Maria, the housekeeper.
"Mrs. Kane, dinner is ready."
Mrs. Kane. I still wasn't used to that name.
Alexander was already seated at the enormous dining table when I got downstairs. He'd changed into casual clothes, but even his relaxed look was perfectly put together.
"How was Carlos's surgery?" he asked as I sat down.
"Still in recovery. The doctor says everything went perfectly."
"Good."
That was it. No "I'm glad he's okay" or "you must be relieved." Just "good," like he was confirming a business transaction.
Dinner was fancy food I couldn't pronounce, served by people who appeared and disappeared like ghosts. Alexander ate in silence, occasionally checking his phone.
"Do you always eat alone?" I asked.
"Usually."
"Doesn't that get lonely?"
Alexander looked up from his phone for the first time since I'd sat down. "I prefer solitude."
"Why?"
"Because people are disappointing."
"All people?"
"In my experience, yes."
"What about your parents? Weren't they good people?"
Alexander's face went completely blank. He set down his fork and stared at me with those ice-cold eyes.
"We don't discuss my parents."
"I was just—"
"Ever."
The word came out like a knife cutting through steel. I shrank back in my chair, suddenly afraid I'd crossed a line I didn't know existed.
"Sorry," I whispered.
Alexander went back to his phone like nothing happened, but I could see the tension in his shoulders.
We finished dinner in uncomfortable silence. Afterward, Alexander disappeared into his office, leaving me alone in the huge, empty house.
I went back to my bedroom and tried to watch TV, but I couldn't concentrate. Every sound echoed through the house like footsteps in a tomb.
Around midnight, I finally fell asleep.
But a few hours later, something woke me up.
Screaming.
Terrible, heart-bre
aking screaming coming from somewhere else in the house.
I sat up in bed, my heart pounding. The screaming came again - raw and desperate, like someone was being tortured.
Then I realized where it was coming from.
Alexander's room.