The announcement hit the world before Elena fully processed the ring on her finger.
By morning, headlines had already decided the narrative.
WINTERS HEIRESS WEDS ROMANO BILLIONAIRE IN PRIVATE CEREMONY
A MERGER OF POWER, LOVE, AND LEGACY
Elena stared at the screen from the backseat of the car, expression unreadable. Love. Legacy. Lies dressed in elegance.
Alessandro sat beside her, calm as ever, scrolling through his phone as if the world hadn't just rearranged itself around them.
"You should look happier," he said casually.
She didn't look at him. "You should look less pleased."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Public perception matters."
"So does honesty."
He glanced at her then—slow, assessing. "Not in marriages like ours."
The car rolled through iron gates, opening into the Romano estate. The house rose from the hill like a fortress disguised as a home—stone walls, wide windows, controlled beauty. It wasn't warm. It wasn't cruel.
It was prepared.
Elena stepped out first, spine straight, chin lifted. If she was going to be watched, she would give them something worth watching.
Inside, staff lined the entrance—silent, respectful, curious. Eyes flicked to her hand, the ring. Acceptance was immediate. Not affection. Loyalty.
To Alessandro.
"This is your home now," he said as they walked.
"For three years," she replied.
"Or longer."
She stopped. Turned to him. "Don't start rewriting terms already."
His gaze held hers. "I don't rewrite. I adapt."
They reached the corridor where the house split into two wings.
"This side is yours," Alessandro said. "Bedrooms, study, private balcony."
She frowned slightly. "Bedrooms?"
He met her eyes steadily. "Plural."
Understanding settled.
"You planned separate rooms," she said.
"Yes."
"That's… unexpected."
"I don't share space without intention," he replied. "And I won't pretend this is something it's not."
Something in her chest tightened—relief tangled with irritation.
"Good," she said. "Because neither will I."
That night, Elena stood alone in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Married. Protected. Trapped.
She removed the ring and placed it carefully on the dresser, as if distance could soften its weight.
A knock sounded at the door.
She didn't turn. "If this is about appearances, we've already satisfied them."
"It's about rules," Alessandro said from the doorway.
She faced him then.
He hadn't changed clothes. Still immaculate. Still composed. But there was something sharper in his eyes tonight.
"I don't enter your space uninvited," he said. "This is me knocking."
"Go on."
"There will be cameras," he continued. "Events. Dinners. Touches meant for the world."
"And behind closed doors?"
"We decide nothing happens unless we both want it."
Her breath slowed.
"And if one of us does?"
His voice lowered. "Then we talk first."
Elena studied him carefully. "You're more disciplined than I expected."
"Discipline keeps people alive."
She nodded once. "Then we're aligned."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"Elena."
"Yes?"
"You don't have to fear me."
She held his gaze, unflinching. "That's not what worries me."
"What does?"
She hesitated—just for a moment.
"How easily this could stop being pretend."
Something unreadable passed through his expression.
"Sleep well, wife," he said quietly.
The door closed behind him.
Across the hall, Alessandro stood alone in his room, loosening his tie with a sharp tug. The house was silent, but his mind wasn't.
Elena Winters was not fragile.
She was not obedient.
And she was already under his skin.
That was dangerous.
He moved to the window, watching the city lights flicker below. Enemies were watching. Waiting.
Let them.
Because anyone who came for Elena would have to go through him.
And Alessandro Romano had never lost what he chose to protect.