I did not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, the city lights bled into the darkness behind my eyelids. Flashing cameras. Headlines multiplying. My name turning into something people spat instead of spoke.
By morning, exhaustion had settled into my bones like a quiet ache. The car waiting downstairs was black, unmarked, and expensive enough to make a point. The driver did not ask where I was going. He already knew.
Ashbridge Tower again.
This time, no reporters were allowed inside. The elevator ride up was silent. My reflection stared back at me, pale but composed. If fear showed, it would only confirm what everyone already believed about me.
I would not give them that.
Daniel was already in the conference room when I arrived. He stood near the table, jacket draped over the back of a chair, sleeves rolled up just enough to suggest he had been working for hours. He did not look at me when I entered.
"You signed quickly," he said.
"I didn't see the point in pretending I had a choice."
That earned his attention.
"Most people would at least try to negotiate."
"Most people still think fairness exists at this level."
His mouth twitched. Again, not quite a smile.
"Sit," he said.
I did.
A new document lay on the table between us. Thinner than the contract. More dangerous for that reason alone.
"What is this?" I asked.
"A clarification."
I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds suspiciously harmless."
"Nothing in this marriage is harmless."
He slid the document toward me.
I scanned it quickly at first. Residence arrangements. Public appearances. Non-disclosure extensions.
Then my eyes caught on a single line, buried deliberately in legal language.
Cohabitation is mandatory for the duration of the agreement.
My hand stilled.
"You didn't mention this," I said.
"You didn't ask."
"I assumed separate residences were implied."
"They were not."
I looked up at him.
"You expect us to live together."
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Until the public believes this marriage is real."
"That could take years."
"Then years it is."
Something cold settled in my chest.
"This was intentional," I said. "You let me sign without telling me."
"I let you sign because you were determined to," he replied evenly. "And because the illusion won't work if we disappear from each other's lives after the wedding photos."
I leaned back slowly.
"So this is about control."
"This is about credibility."
"And where exactly do you plan to keep me?" I asked. "Locked in one of your penthouses?"
His gaze sharpened.
"You'll live at the Ashbridge estate."
The words hit harder than I expected.
"That house is crawling with your family."
"Yes."
"You want me under constant surveillance."
"I want to know where my wife is at all times."
The word wife landed between us, heavy and unsettling.
I stood.
"That clause changes everything."
"It changes nothing," he said. "You were already trapped. This just makes it visible."
For a moment, I thought I might lose my composure. The room felt smaller. The walls closer.
Then I exhaled.
Fine.
"If I'm living in your house," I said, "then I have my own conditions."
He studied me, intrigued despite himself.
"I won't be treated like a prisoner," I continued. "I come and go as I please. I speak when I choose. And if your family tries to humiliate me behind closed doors, I won't stay silent for the sake of appearances."
"And if you embarrass us publicly?"
"I already have," I said softly. "And you're still marrying me."
Silence stretched.
Finally, he nodded once.
"Agreed," he said. "With limits."
"Of course."
He reached for his phone.
"You'll move in tonight."
I laughed, sharp and disbelieving.
"You don't waste time."
"Neither does the media," he replied. "Your presence at the estate will leak by morning. That's the point."
As if summoned by his words, the door opened.
A woman stepped in.
She was tall, elegant, impossibly composed. Every inch of her screamed old money and careful breeding. She wore grief like jewelry, subtle but unmistakable.
Daniel stiffened.
"Evelyn," he said.
So this was her.
The former fiancée.
She looked at me with eyes that were not angry.
They were curious.
"So you're the woman," she said calmly, "worth destroying my engagement for."
"I didn't destroy anything," I replied. "But I understand why you'd think that."
She smiled faintly.
"Oh, I don't think," she said. "I know."
Daniel stepped between us slightly.
"This isn't the time."
"No," Evelyn agreed, her gaze never leaving mine. "But it is interesting."
She turned back to him.
"The press is waiting outside. They want a statement."
"Then give them one," he said.
She paused at the door and looked back at me once more.
"I hope you understand," she said softly, "that no one enters this family without paying."
The door closed behind her.
I looked at Daniel.
"She hates me."
"She doesn't hate you," he said. "Not yet."
That was somehow worse.
That evening, I moved into the Ashbridge estate.
The gates closed behind me with a finality that made my chest tighten.
I stood in the grand hallway, surrounded by wealth, history, and eyes that watched without curiosity or kindness.
Upstairs, somewhere in the house, Daniel waited.
And buried in a contract I had signed too quickly was a clause that ensured I would never face this alone.
I had agreed to live with the enemy.
And I was no longer sure who that enemy really was.