Nia stood motionless for a moment, her pulse still hammering in her ears, the reality of Luciano's words settling in like a weight in her chest. Her hands were still trembling from the marriage certificate that had shattered the illusion of control she'd clung to for so long. This wasn't real. It couldn't be. But it was.
She stared at the door, half expecting to see an escape route, a crack in the carefully curated reality Luciano had just thrust upon her. But there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of the opulent room, the gentle rustle of the curtains as the breeze moved through the tall windows.
Luciano's voice sliced through the stillness, his words carrying a calm that made her stomach tighten even more.
"Don't look for ways out just yet, Nia."
She turned, catching his gaze—dark, unwavering, the calm of someone who'd already made up his mind. The look he gave her wasn't pity, nor was it malice. It was... something else. Like he was already seeing beyond this moment, beyond her resistance.
His eyes never left hers as he moved toward the door. "You'll get used to it."
Her mouth went dry as she took a few hesitant steps forward, the silence between them heavy. His presence was like an invisible force pulling at her, even though they were no longer touching. It was suffocating, but there was nothing she could do to escape it. Nothing but the choice she had made—or had it been made for her?
Before she could speak, he looked over his shoulder, his gaze cold but with a trace of something deeper, something darker.
"I'll give you time to adjust," he said, his voice low. "But I need you to be ready by tonight. The press will be at the event."
Nia's heart skipped. "What event?"
"Don't worry," he added, his voice dripping with a touch of mockery, "it'll be your grand debut as my wife."
The way he said the word "wife" felt foreign in her ears. Not because of its meaning, but because of the way he wore it like a crown, something both heavy and commanding.
She opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, the words dying on her tongue.
Adjust. The word echoed in her head. Adjust to this life. Adjust to him.
Her mind raced, her thoughts scattering in all directions. Was this all part of some game? Some power play that he was used to winning? Her fingers clenched into fists at her sides as she fought the wave of frustration threatening to break free. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her unravel.
"I'm not playing this game," she muttered under her breath, but even as the words left her lips, she wasn't sure if she believed them.
Luciano didn't answer. He just left, leaving her standing there, bathed in the early morning light, the faint scent of his cologne still lingering in the air.
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone with the thought of the next thirty days—the contract she had signed without realizing, the façade she would have to put on for the world.
There was no getting out of this. Not yet.
Nia took a deep breath, gathering her strength. One month. That was all she had. Thirty days to play the role of the perfect wife, thirty days to survive.
And then, she would walk.
She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, her fingers trembling as she took a long sip, willing the burn in her throat to subside. The icy coldness did little to soothe the fire of anger that was slowly growing inside her.
The sound of footsteps reached her ears, but this time they weren't Luciano's.
A gentle knock on the door made her turn.
She straightened. "Come in."
The door opened to reveal a tall, slim woman with jet-black hair pulled into a tight bun, wearing a black suit that was clearly meant to impress. She had a sharp gaze and an air of authority about her, though the slight smile she offered seemed genuine enough.
"Good morning, Mrs. Luciano," the woman said, her tone polite but with the hint of something more—a readiness to take her place in this world of polished appearances.
Nia's chest tightened at the title. Mrs. Luciano.
She had no idea what to say. What could she say?
The woman stepped in, holding a delicate tray in her hands. "Breakfast, as requested. I was told to make sure you had everything you needed."
Nia nodded, still lost in her thoughts. The woman set the tray down and, with a bow of her head, moved toward the door. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to let me know. I'll be outside."
Nia couldn't help but watch her leave. As the door clicked shut, she turned back to the tray, her eyes falling on the untouched meal. The idea of food felt distant.
But it wasn't just the food that was distant.
It was the reality she was now trapped in.
Nia turned to the windows again, staring at the sprawling view outside, wondering if she could ever find her way out of this maze.
Her phone buzzed on the table, snapping her from her thoughts. She glanced at the screen.
A message from an unknown number.
"Ready for tonight? Don't forget, Nia, the world is watching."
It was signed with a single letter.
L.
Luciano.
Nia's hands tightened ar
ound the phone, her fingers digging into the screen. This was only just beginning.