The city lights faded behind them as the black limousine rolled silently through the night. Elena sat quietly beside the window, her reflection pale against the dark glass. Her hands were folded tightly in her lap, the new ring on her finger gleaming faintly under the car's soft light. It wasn't a symbol of love — it was proof of a deal signed and sealed.
Across from her, Alexander sat with the same calm expression he had worn since the boardroom. His gaze was fixed on his phone, fingers moving swiftly across the screen as though she didn't exist. The silence between them stretched, cold and heavy.
Elena turned her eyes to the road ahead. Her heart pounded softly, each beat reminding her of what she had done — she had become Alexander Knight's wife, by contract.
When the car finally stopped, the door opened to reveal a house so grand that Elena momentarily forgot how to breathe. It wasn't a house, it was a mansion — tall and proud, with golden lights spilling from its windows. The walls were pale marble, and fountains danced in the front yard like tiny streams of light. It looked like something out of a dream — or a life that didn't belong to her.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Knight," the driver said politely.
The title made her chest tighten. She stepped out of the car slowly, her heels touching the polished stone path. The night breeze was cool, carrying the faint scent of roses from the garden.
Alexander walked past her, not waiting. The large doors opened automatically as they approached, and a line of servants bowed in greeting.
"Good evening, sir."
"Welcome back, sir."
Their voices were soft, respectful, practiced. One woman, older than the rest, stepped forward with a warm smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Knight. I'm Mrs. Carter, the housekeeper. Please, let me show you around."
Elena managed a small smile, though her throat felt dry. "Thank you."
The mansion was breathtaking inside. Every corner was decorated with taste — marble floors, gold accents, and chandeliers that looked like falling stars. But despite the beauty, it felt cold. Too perfect. Too quiet. It was a home built for power, not comfort.
"This will be your room," Mrs. Carter said as they reached the second floor. She opened a wide white door that led into a room larger than Elena's entire apartment. The bed was dressed in silk, the walls painted soft cream, and the curtains shimmered faintly in the light.
Elena stepped inside, her heels clicking softly. "It's beautiful," she whispered.
Mrs. Carter nodded kindly. "If you need anything, just press the bell by the bed. Dinner will be ready shortly."
When the door closed, Elena finally exhaled. She walked to the mirror and stared at herself. Her face looked tired, her eyes slightly red from holding back tears. The woman staring back didn't look like her anymore. She looked like someone pretending to belong to a life she had borrowed.
A knock came at the door. She turned quickly. It was Alexander.
He stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable. "Dinner is downstairs," he said simply.
She nodded. "I'll be there soon."
He didn't reply. He just gave a short nod and left.
At the dining table, everything looked like it came from a royal feast — silver plates, crystal glasses, candles flickering softly. Elena sat opposite him once more, the distance between them wider than the table itself.
"You don't have to be nervous," Alexander said without looking up from his meal. His voice was calm, almost detached.
"I'm not nervous," she lied.
He glanced at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. "You're a terrible liar."
She pressed her lips together, unsure how to reply.
They ate mostly in silence. The only sound came from the clinking of silverware. At one point, she tried to thank him — for paying her family's debts — but the words caught in her throat. Gratitude felt wrong when the price was her freedom.
When dinner ended, Alexander rose from his seat. "From tomorrow, you'll meet my assistant. He'll brief you on public events and appearances. Our marriage has to look real — at least in the eyes of the media."
Elena nodded softly. "I understand."
He paused for a moment, his dark eyes studying her. "Good. I don't expect you to play the perfect wife, Miss Hayes —" he corrected himself, "Mrs. Knight — but I expect you to play your part."
The correction hit her harder than expected. Mrs. Knight. The name felt strange, heavy, not hers.
When he left the room, Elena sat there for a while, staring at the empty chair he had occupied. Her mind felt heavy. She wasn't sure if she had made the right choice — but it was too late to think about that now.
She walked back to her room, her footsteps echoing softly in the long hallway. As she passed another door, slightly open, she caught sight of a dark room filled with shelves and a grand piano in the center. The keys were covered in dust.
Curiosity made her step closer, but before she could look further, Mrs. Carter appeared.
"Oh, that's Mr. Knight's private room," the older woman said gently. "He doesn't like anyone entering there."
Elena nodded quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"It's all right, dear. You must be tired. Get some rest."
Later that night, Elena stood by her window, looking out at the glowing city below. Somewhere out there, people were living freely — laughing, loving, choosing their own paths. She wondered when she had lost that right.
She touched the ring again. "Three years," she whispered.
Knowing fully well that this marriage is under contract, meaning she don't have to do anything
But in her heart, she wasn't sure she would last that long.
But she keeps on hoping that one day ,maybe she will later love the billionaire CEO ,but Elena knowns fully well that she is in a home where she can eat or buy whatever she demands for without no complain.
Let wait for chapter 3
Coming up soon