The presidential suite on the top floor of the Grand Palladium Hotel was a masterpiece of luxury—cream marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city skyline, and furniture that cost more than most people's annual salary. Red rose petals scattered across silk sheets, champagne chilling in crystal buckets, candles flickering with romantic ambiance.
It was everything a bride should dream of for her wedding night.
And it felt like a beautiful prison.
Thẩm Tịnh Dao stood in the doorway, her hand frozen on the golden handle as she took in the suffocating opulence. The heavy wedding dress that had made her feel like a princess now felt like chains wrapped around her body, each bead and crystal weighing her down until she could barely breathe.
The reception had finally ended after what felt like an eternity of fake smiles and hollow congratulations. Her cheeks ached from pretending to be happy, her feet throbbed in the designer heels, and her heart felt like it had been trampled by a thousand guests who looked at her like she was an intruder in their world.
But the worst part was the man already occupying the suite.
Lục Trạch Hạo sat in a leather chair by the massive window, his tall frame silhouetted against the city lights. He had removed his tuxedo jacket and loosened his tie, but even in this relaxed state, he radiated an aura of cold dominance that made the spacious room feel claustrophobic. A crystal glass of amber whiskey rested in his long fingers, catching the candlelight like liquid gold.
He didn't look up when she entered. Didn't acknowledge her presence at all.
The door closed behind her with a soft click that sounded like a judge's gavel sealing her fate.
"Don't just stand there like a statue," his voice cut through the silence, smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. "This is your wedding night, after all. Shouldn't you be overjoyed to finally have everything you schemed for?"
Dao's hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she forced herself to walk deeper into the room with as much dignity as she could muster. Each step on the marble floor echoed like a countdown to her doom.
"I never schemed for anything," she said quietly, stopping near the ornate vanity table. Her reflection in the mirror showed a girl who looked like she was playing dress-up in someone else's life—beautiful on the surface, but hollow-eyed with exhaustion underneath.
Hạo's low laugh held no warmth. "Of course not. The poor, innocent Thẩm daughter just happened to catch the attention of the richest bachelor in the city. What a coincidence."
He finally turned to look at her, and the contempt in his dark eyes made her stomach twist. Even sitting down, his presence dominated the room like a king surveying his conquered territory.
"Let me tell you what really happened," he continued, taking a slow sip of whiskey. "Your father's company was drowning in debt. The banks were circling like vultures. Your family's reputation was about to be destroyed completely. So what did daddy dearest do?"
Dao's throat felt like sandpaper, but she met his gaze steadily. "He—"
"He offered you as payment." Hạo's words fell like hammer blows. "His beautiful daughter, fresh out of university, with just enough design talent to be useful. A pawn to be traded for financial salvation."
The truth hit harder than any physical blow could have. Her father's face flashed in her memory—the desperation, the shame, the way he couldn't meet her eyes when he explained why she had to marry a stranger.
"And you?" Hạo stood with fluid grace, his height making her feel even smaller in the vast room. "You agreed to it. Signed your name on that contract without a second thought. So tell me, Mrs. Lục—what does that make you?"
He began walking toward her with predatory slowness, each step deliberate and threatening. The candlelight played across his sharp features, making him look like a beautiful devil come to claim her soul.
"It makes me a daughter who loves her family," Dao whispered, but her voice grew stronger with each word. "Someone who understands sacrifice and responsibility. Someone who keeps her promises, even when they cost everything."
"How noble." His tone dripped with sarcasm. "The dutiful daughter, sacrificing herself for the greater good. But we both know the truth, don't we?"
He was close enough now that she could smell his expensive cologne—something dark and intoxicating that made her head spin. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his black eyes, the perfect line of his jaw, the cruel curve of his lips.
"You wanted this," he said softly, his voice like velvet wrapped around steel. "The money, the status, the power that comes with the Lục name. You may have convinced yourself it's all for family, but deep down, you're just like every other woman who's ever tried to trap me."
"That's not true." Dao's voice shook, but not with fear—with anger. Pure, burning anger that she'd been holding back all evening. "I never wanted any of this. I wanted to build my own career, make my own choices, fall in love with someone who actually cared about me. But life doesn't always give us what we want, does it?"
Something flickered across Hạo's face—surprise, maybe, or something more dangerous.
"How touching," he murmured. "The little bride has claws after all."
Before she could react, his hand shot out and gripped her chin, tilting her face up toward his. His fingers were warm against her skin, but his touch felt like ice burning through her veins. This close, she could see the darkness in his eyes wasn't just coldness—it was pain, buried so deep it had turned to poison.
"But let me make something very clear," he said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "You may have my name now. You may live in my house, wear my ring, spend my money. But you will never have my heart, my respect, or my love. You are nothing more than a business arrangement. A pretty decoration to satisfy the board's expectations."
His thumb brushed across her lower lip, the gesture somehow both intimate and threatening.
"And if you think you can change my mind, if you think you can make me fall for whatever innocent act you're playing—" His grip tightened slightly, making her gasp. "You'll regret stepping into this room. You'll regret signing that contract. You'll regret the day you ever thought you could handle being married to me."
Dao's heart hammered against her ribs so hard she was sure he could hear it. Every instinct screamed at her to back down, to apologize, to make herself small and safe. The man holding her chin could destroy her with a single phone call. He could make her family's situation even worse. He held all the power, all the cards, all the control.
But something rebellious and fierce sparked to life in her chest—the same stubborn strength that had carried her through years of financial struggle and social ridicule.
"You're right about one thing," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "This is just a business arrangement. I'm not some starry-eyed girl who thinks she can change the cold-hearted CEO with the power of true love."
His eyes narrowed, clearly not expecting her agreement.
"But you're wrong about something else," she continued, meeting his gaze without flinching. "I may be here because my family needed saving, but that doesn't make me weak. It doesn't make me a victim. And it certainly doesn't give you the right to treat me like garbage."
She reached up and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, not trying to pull away but making her own claim to strength.
"I signed that contract knowing exactly what I was getting into—a loveless marriage to a man who thinks cruelty makes him powerful. But I also signed it knowing who I am. I'm not some decoration for you to arrange however you like. I'm not a pawn to be moved around your chess board."
Her voice grew stronger, fueled by months of suppressed frustration and hurt.
"You want to keep this marriage cold and businesslike? Fine. You want separate rooms and separate lives? Perfect. But if you think you can break my spirit with insults and intimidation, you're going to be very disappointed."
For a long moment, they stood frozen like that—his hand on her chin, her fingers around his wrist, their eyes locked in a battle of wills that felt more intense than any physical fight.
Then something strange happened. The contempt in Hạo's gaze flickered, replaced by something she couldn't identify. Curiosity? Respect? Or was it something more dangerous—interest?
"Interesting," he murmured, his thumb tracing along her jawline in a gesture that sent unwanted shivers down her spine. "The little mouse has teeth after all."
He released her abruptly and stepped back, leaving her swaying slightly from the sudden absence of his overwhelming presence. But his eyes never left her face, studying her like she was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
"We'll see how long that defiance lasts," he said, straightening his tie with casual precision. "Marriage has a way of wearing down even the strongest spirits."
He moved toward the door with predatory grace, pausing only to deliver one final blow.
"Sweet dreams, wife. Tomorrow, your real education begins."
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Dao alone in the suffocating luxury of the bridal suite. She stood there for a long moment, her legs shaking with delayed reaction, her heart still racing from their confrontation.
But despite the fear, despite the loneliness, despite the overwhelming magnitude of what she'd gotten herself into, one thought burned bright and fierce in her mind:
I won't be broken. Not by him, not by this marriage, not by anyone.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror—disheveled hair, smudged makeup, wedding dress that now felt like battle armor instead of chains.
The battle between them had only just begun.
[End of Chapter 2]
Hạo sees Dao as just another gold-digger, but her unexpected defiance has caught his attention. Will his cruel treatment break her spirit, or will she prove stronger than he imagined? And what secrets from his past have made him so cold toward love?
Find out in Chapter 3: The Pawn...