Episode 2
The night was long.
Aria lay stiffly on the edge of the bed, her damp wedding dress clinging to her skin like a second layer of punishment. The bed was cold despite the silk sheets and velvet pillows. Every breath she took echoed like a whisper in the vast silence of the room.
Lucien hadn't returned.
She stared at the open balcony doors. Rain had softened into a mist, and thunder had retreated into the distance, but the storm inside her had just begun.
What had she done?
The ring on her finger felt heavier than metal. It pulsed like a shackle, a reminder that she was no longer free — no longer Aria Elwood, the girl who dreamt of college, dancing in her room, and laughter-filled dinners with her family. That Aria had been sold.
And in her place stood Mrs. Blackwood.
Her phone buzzed again.
> "The hospital cleared your brother for surgery next week. Thank you, my angel."
Her mother's words brought fresh tears. She curled into a ball, holding the phone to her chest.
"This is worth it," she whispered into the darkness.
But she didn't believe it.
---
Morning at Blackwood Mansion
She woke to the sound of sharp knocking.
"Miss Elwood," the butler's voice came through the door, stern and emotionless. "Breakfast is served. Mr. Blackwood expects you downstairs in ten minutes."
Miss Elwood. Not Mrs. Blackwood.
Right. Even her title in this house was conditional.
Aria stood, muscles aching. Her dress had dried, but it reeked of cold fabric and shame. She found a robe in the closet — expensive, silk, unfamiliar — and changed quickly. Her own suitcase hadn't been delivered.
When she stepped into the grand dining room, Lucien was already there.
He didn't look up from his tablet.
"Sit."
She obeyed.
The long table stretched between them like a frozen river. Silver platters filled with fruits, eggs, pastries, and juices lined the table, untouched.
Lucien sipped black coffee.
"You'll be given a schedule," he said without preamble. "You'll attend three charity functions this month, two business galas, and a family dinner with my parents next Friday."
Aria blinked. "Your… parents?"
He looked up.
"For appearances only. Do not speak unless spoken to. Wear what my assistant gives you. Smile. Be charming. Pretend we're in love."
Her heart sank.
He continued, "You'll receive a monthly allowance. You may use the gym, the pool, the library. You may not enter my office. Ever."
"Okay."
"You may have one day off per month to visit your family. No more."
"One?"
"That's generous."
She lowered her gaze.
Lucien set his tablet down and finally looked at her — properly.
"Is this difficult for you, Miss Elwood?"
She met his eyes. Cold. Calculated.
"No."
"Liar."
He stood and circled the table, walking behind her.
She stiffened.
"You married me for money. That makes you a pawn, not a princess. Don't mistake my name for protection. This isn't a fairytale."
"I know."
He leaned down, whispering near her ear.
"Good. Because the last girl who broke the rules… regretted it."
---
Later That Day
Aria was shown around the mansion by a stern housekeeper named Mrs. Kingsley.
"This is the guest wing. You'll stay here unless Mr. Blackwood states otherwise."
"But I slept in the master room last night," Aria said.
Mrs. Kingsley's eyes narrowed.
"That was temporary. You'll be moved."
"But… we're married."
The older woman snorted. "Legally, yes. Romantically? Don't flatter yourself."
Aria flinched.
The housekeeper continued. "There are 28 rooms in this mansion. You may not enter the west wing or the cellar. Don't ask why."
She didn't.
The last stop was the library.
It was breathtaking. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, spiral staircases, and a domed glass ceiling that poured sunlight into the room. Aria's breath caught.
"You may use this room freely," Mrs. Kingsley said. "Mr. Blackwood rarely does."
After the housekeeper left, Aria wandered to a leather chair and sat down, finally alone.
She needed time to think.
What had Lucien meant when he said the last girl regretted it? Was there someone before her? Another wife?
She shook her head.
None of it mattered.
She was here for a year. One year. Then freedom.
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Just survive."
---
That Evening
Lucien didn't return for dinner.
Aria dined alone in the glittering hall, the chandelier above her throwing diamond-like light on empty plates. She missed the noise of her small kitchen, the scent of burnt toast and her brother's laughter.
A maid arrived silently and handed her a velvet box.
"Mr. Blackwood sent this. You're expected at the Black Rose Gala tomorrow night."
Inside was a blood-red gown. Off-shoulder, backless, with a slit so high it made her blush. There was a matching set of jewelry: rubies and gold.
Aria touched the fabric. It felt like fire.
So this was how he played his games — dressing her up like a doll, showing her off as a trophy.
Fine.
If he wanted a performance, she would give him one.
But inside… she would remain Aria Elwood. Not his puppet. Not his possession.
She stood and faced the mirror, holding the dress to her chest.
"I'll survive this," she whispered. "And when the year ends… I'll be free."
Outside the window, the storm clouds were gathering again.
---
💔 To be continued…
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