Time passed, yet each morning Mia woke up with the same crushing realization—nothing in this house belonged to her.
Not her clothes.
Not her shoes.
Not even the bags she carried.
Everything had been chosen for her, approved for her, decided for her.
She had no friends to talk to. She didn't go out. She didn't work. The mansion was always quiet, yet the silence was loud—heavy, suffocating. Even with servants moving about, the house felt empty. Whenever Mia tried to defend herself, Victor's response was swift and cruel: confinement. Locked in her room like a child being punished.
It finally dawned on her—she wasn't a wife.
She was property.
The thought sickened her. But instead of crying, Mia hardened.
She decided to live only by the rising and setting of the sun. She stopped asking for permission to see her father. She stopped hoping to be loved or cared for.
I've been used to clear my father's debt, she told herself. Let me focus on surviving.
One afternoon, overwhelmed by her thoughts, Mia went to the pool. She stripped out of her clothes and plunged into the water, letting the coolness swallow her worries. For a moment, she felt free.
That was when Victor returned.
He stopped in his tracks when he saw her. Mia, gliding through the water in her swimsuit, looked exactly as she had the first day he saw her at her father's house—untouched, defiant, breathtaking.
Sensing someone's gaze, Mia quickly climbed out of the pool and wrapped herself in a bathrobe.
Victor approached her slowly, circling her like a predator admiring its catch.
"Indeed," he said calmly, "I made the right choice taking you as my wife."
Mia laughed bitterly.
"Wife?" she snapped. "I don't remember giving consent to this cage you call marriage. Ever since I got here, it's been one rule after another. Who do you really think you are, Mr. Hale? Yes, you married me—but can't I move freely?"
Her boldness stunned him.
Fearless, Victor thought. No woman has ever spoken to me like this.
Instead of anger, curiosity bloomed. Mia intrigued him.
As the sun set, Mia came downstairs for dinner. She requested steak. When it was served, Victor noticed immediately.
He summoned a servant.
"Why isn't my wife eating what I'm eating?"
"Sir, your wife requested steak instead of chicken salad."
Victor looked at Mia. She met his gaze without fear—and said nothing.
Disgusted by the tension, Mia stood to leave.
"You'll be sleeping in my room tonight," Victor ordered. "Get your things and wait for me."
Mia smiled faintly.
"I want to sleep alone tonight."
Victor was dumbfounded. For the first time, he felt powerless.
He said nothing as Mia walked away.
That night, Victor barely slept. Her boldness haunted him. Her beauty followed him into the dark. The memory of her in the pool replayed in his mind.
"Damn," he muttered. "She's beautiful."
For the first time, guilt stirred. Maybe I've been too hard on her.
At dawn, Victor knocked once before letting himself into her room. Mia was still in bed. He sat quietly and waited.
She wasn't in deep sleep. She felt his presence.
"What are you doing here?" she asked coldly, without turning. "I know it's your house, but I deserve privacy, Mr. Hale."
Victor smiled.
"You must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I'm leaving for work. You may go see your father today—two hours only. Scott will take you."
He tossed some cash onto the table.
"Get him whatever he needs. Not a minute more than two hours."
Mia smiled—but said nothing.
Victor adjusted his suit and left.
The moment the door closed, Mia jumped out of bed, joy flooding her chest. She dressed quickly and went to see her father.
To her surprise, he looked healthy—stronger than she remembered.
He told her everything. How Victor had taken him to the hospital. How he'd received proper treatment.
Mia felt relief wash over her. She gave her father the money Victor had given her. They talked a little longer before she returned to the mansion.
But something had changed.