Chapter 2 Trapped in a golden cage.

The night air in the Vale estate smelled faintly of expensive leather and cold money.

I had expected mansions to be warm, bustling, alive-but this place was a mausoleum dressed in silk curtains and polished floors. The kind of place where laughter sounded out of place, and every echo reminded you how small and insignificant you were.

The maid had shown me to my room, a massive space with walls I couldn't count and a bed the size of my childhood apartment. Every corner gleamed. Every shadow had a story. And in the center of it all, my suitcase felt laughably tiny.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the silk sheets. My hands still shook. My throat was dry. I felt like a hostage who had been given a five-star cell.

Then the knock came.

I jumped.

"Ms. Moore," a calm voice said from the doorway. The maid, her face still neutral, held out a tray. "Dinner, as requested."

I hadn't requested dinner. My stomach twisted.

"Leave it here," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She hesitated. Then, without a word, she set the tray down and left. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with the sound of my heartbeat bouncing against the walls.

I stared at the tray. Cold pasta. A slice of bread. A single piece of fruit. It looked like a mockery of a meal for a princess-or a prisoner.

And then it hit me: I wasn't a guest. I was property.

The reality of the contract pressed against me, heavier than the silk sheets ever could. One year. My sister's life in exchange for my freedom.

I pressed my hands to my face. I couldn't cry. Not yet. I had to be strong. I had to survive.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. Approaching my door.

I froze.

"Liana," the voice said, low, calm, and terrifyingly smooth. "Are you settling in?"

My body refused to move.

Dominic Vale.

He wasn't supposed to come to my room. He wasn't supposed to invade the one place I could pretend to breathe. And yet, here he was. Standing in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the dim light of the hallway.

I swallowed, trying to sound steady. "I... I'm fine."

His lips curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Fine," he repeated. "Good."

He stepped inside anyway, and the air seemed to shift. Every polished surface reflected him, looming, unstoppable. He didn't sit. He didn't smile kindly. He simply watched, silent and sharp, like a hawk sizing up prey.

I didn't dare look away.

"You understand the rules, I hope?" he asked, finally breaking the silence.

I nodded quickly. "Yes."

He didn't answer. He only walked to the window and stared out, arms crossed. The city lights glittered below, a reminder of a world I no longer belonged to.

Minutes passed. Hours, it felt like. I tried to eat, but my appetite had vanished. Each bite felt like betrayal-betraying my own dignity, my own sense of self, just to survive.

Finally, he spoke again, softer this time. "You will obey the household rules. You will not leave without permission. And..." His eyes found mine, dark, unreadable, commanding. "You will remember why you are here."

I swallowed. "Yes."

He nodded once and turned to leave. The sound of his footsteps faded into the marble corridors, leaving silence that pressed against me from all sides.

I collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving, trying to process what had just happened.

I wasn't married because of love. I wasn't married because he cared. I was married because he could take what he wanted-and because I had no choice.

A shiver ran down my spine.

The first night in the Vale estate stretched endlessly. I stared at the ceiling, imagining Mia's pale face, imagining what would happen if I failed. If I refused him tomorrow. If I broke the rules.

I couldn't stop thinking about the contract. The pen, the signature, the piece of paper that bound me to this man.

And then, as if the walls themselves were listening, I whispered to the dark room:

"I won't let him win. Not entirely."

But deep down, a part of me knew-I had already lost.

And tonight, survival was going to demand more than courage. It was going to demand surrender