Something was wrong.
I couldn't explain it… but I could feel it.
It started the moment I woke up.
This house was too quiet, yet too alive at the same time. Like the walls were listening. Like every step I took had already been expected.
I walked past the hallway slowly, my fingers brushing the cold walls.
"This place is insane," I muttered under my breath.
But the deeper I went, the stronger the feeling grew.
I wasn't just living here.
I was being observed.
⸻
I finally reached the dining area, expecting emptiness.
But I wasn't alone.
Rico Zander sat at the table, reading something on his phone. Calm. Controlled. Like the world bent around him.
He didn't even look up when I entered.
"Good morning to you too," I said dryly.
Silence.
Of course.
⸻
I pulled out a chair and sat anyway, refusing to let his coldness intimidate me.
This was my new reality.
A forced marriage.
A stranger for a husband.
And a life I never asked for.
But I refused to break easily.
⸻
My name is Bella Collins.
I am Seventeen years old.
I used to believe life was simple—study hard, get into college abroad, escape my uncle's house, and build something better for myself.
That dream ended the day my uncle signed a debt agreement I never saw coming.
The day my life stopped belonging to me.
And the day Rico Zander entered my world.
⸻
I stole a glance at him.
He looked… normal.
Too normal.
But I knew better.
No man like him was ever normal.
There was something about the way he sat—like control wasn't something he learned, but something he was born with.
Dangerous men don't announce themselves.
They don't need to.
⸻
"You're staring," his voice broke the silence suddenly.
I blinked.
Caught.
But I didn't look away.
"Am I not allowed to?" I asked calmly.
That made him finally look at me.
His eyes were sharp. Studying. Like I was a puzzle he already had half the answers to.
"No," he said simply.
I smiled slightly.
"Good. Because I don't like being told what to do."
A flicker—barely noticeable—crossed his face.
Interest.
Or something close to it.
⸻
I stood up before the tension could grow heavier.
"I'm going out," I said.
"Where?" he asked immediately.
I paused.
That was too fast.
Too controlled.
Too… personal.
I turned slowly.
"Since when do I need permission?"
Silence.
⸻
For the first time, he leaned back slightly, watching me more carefully now.
"Since you live in my house," he said.
A chill ran through me—but I refused to show it.
"I live here," I replied, "but I'm not a prisoner."
Something shifted in the air.
A warning.
A boundary I had just stepped on without realizing.
⸻
I walked away before he could respond.
But as I left the dining area, the feeling returned stronger than before.
I wasn't imagining it.
This house had rules.
Invisible ones.
And I was already breaking them.
⸻
And worse…
I had a feeling Rico Zander wasn't the only one watching me.