The morning sun didn't bring warmth; it only exposed the bars of the cage.
Elara woke up in the massive silk bed, her body aching with a exhaustion that sleep couldn't fix. For a split second, she thought the night before was a fever dream. Then, she saw the gold ring on her finger, sparkling mockingly in the light.
A sharp knock at the door made her jump.
"Mr. Thorne is waiting in the study," Martha's voice came through the wood. "Five minutes, Miss. He doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Elara dressed in the clothes she found in the closet—a high-necked black dress that felt like a funeral shroud. She walked down the long, silent hallways until she reached a pair of heavy oak doors. Two guards stood outside. They didn't look at her; they simply opened the doors.
The study was a cathedral of dark wood and leather. Julian sat behind a massive desk, a stack of legal documents in front of him. Standing next to him was a man in a sharp suit holding a briefcase.
"Sit," Julian commanded without looking up.
Elara sat across from him. "I want a lawyer."
Julian finally looked at her, a cold smirk touching his lips. "You're looking at one. Mr. Miller is the best money can buy. He's here to make sure our union is ironclad."
"I'm not signing anything," Elara said, her voice trembling but firm.
Julian signaled the lawyer, who placed a single sheet of paper in front of her. Elara looked down. Her breath caught.
It was a death certificate. Her death certificate.
Elara Vance. Deceased. Cause of death: Apartment fire.
"As of six a.m. today, Elara Vance no longer exists," Julian said, his voice flat. "The bank accounts are frozen. The social security number is flagged. You have no identity, no history, and nowhere to go. You are a ghost, Elara."
He pushed a second document toward her. The Marriage Contract.
"This is your only way back into the world of the living," Julian continued. "Sign this, and you become a Thorne. You get my protection, my name, and my resources. Refuse, and you walk out those gates as a dead woman with a target on her back."
"Why are you doing this?" Elara hissed, the paper blurring before her eyes. "Why me?"
"Because you're a loose end," Julian lied, though the intensity in his eyes suggested something far deeper. "And I don't leave loose ends. I either tie them... or I cut them."
He stood up and walked around the desk, leaning over her until his shadow swallowed the paper. He held out a fountain pen. "Sign it. Now."
Elara looked at the pen, then at the death certificate. He had truly erased her. She was trapped in a world where only he could see her. With a shaking hand, she took the pen.
"One year," she whispered. "The contract says one year."
"A lot can happen in a year, kitten," Julian murmured, his hand covering hers as she signed the bottom of the page.
The moment the ink dried, the lawyer packed his bag and left without a word. Julian didn't let go of her hand. He pulled her up from the chair until she was inches from his chest.
"Now that you're officially mine, we need to talk about the rules," he said, his grip tightening on her waist.
Before Elara could respond, the intercom on the desk buzzed.
"Sir," a voice came through. "We have a problem at the perimeter. A gift was left at the gate."
Julian's expression turned to stone. He grabbed Elara by the arm and dragged her toward the front of the house. He didn't care if she could keep up; his stride was long and furious.
They reached the front courtyard. A small, wooden box sat on the marble steps. Julian's head of security was standing over it, his face pale.
"Open it," Julian ordered.
The guard flipped the lid. Elara gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Inside was a single white lily—a funeral flower—soaked in fresh, red blood. Tucked into the petals was a small note.
Julian picked it up and read it aloud, his voice like a winter wind.
"I heard the Shadow Boss found a new toy. I hope she lasts longer than the last one. Hope I don't't have to take care of her like Isabella. — S."
The blood drained from Elara's face. "Who is Isabella? Who is S?"
Julian crumpled the note in his fist, his knuckles turning white. He turned to her, his eyes blazing with a protective fury that was almost more terrifying than his coldness.
"Nobody you need to worry about," he growled.
He turned to his guards. "Double the perimeter. No one goes in or out without my personal authorization. If a bird flies over this house, I want it shot down."
He grabbed Elara's chin, forcing her to look at him. "You wanted to know why I'm keeping you here? That note is why. There are people in this city who would peel the skin from your bones just to spite me."
"I don't even know these people!" Elara screamed, tears of frustration pricking her eyes.
"It doesn't matter if you know them," Julian hissed, pulling her closer until their chests were locked together. "They know you. And as long as you carry my name, you are the most hunted woman in the country."
He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a dark, possessive promise.
"You think this house is a prison? You're wrong. It's a sanctuary. And I'm the only thing standing between you and a shallow grave. So from now on, you don't go to the bathroom without a guard. You don't eat unless I've tasted it first. You are under my absolute control, Elara. Do you understand?"
Elara looked at the bloody lily on the stairs, then at the man holding her like he wanted to crush her. She realized then that the fire in the hangar was just the beginning.
"I understand," she whispered.
"Good," Julian said, his eyes dropping to her mouth. "Now, let's go upstairs. It's time we started our marriage properly."
Julian hauled her back into the house, but as they passed a mirror in the hallway, Elara saw something that stopped her heart.
Julian wasn't looking at the door or the guards. He was looking at her reflection with a look of pure, unhinged hunger—the look of a man who hadn't just found a wife, but a prize he had been hunting for a lifetime.
"You're trembling, Elara," he whispered, his hand sliding down to the small of her back. "Don't be. The monsters outside can't get to you. You only have to worry about the one who's already inside."