Chapter 3 A Cage Made of Gold

Angel awoke to silence. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. The bed beneath her was too soft, the sheets too smooth, the air too crisp. She wasn't in her tiny, worn-down apartment. She was in Aaron Blackwood's penthouse. Her new prison. Pushing herself up, she glanced around the unfamiliar room. The guest bedroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the penthouse-white and gray color tones, a massive window overlooking the city, and furniture that probably cost more than a year's rent at her old place.

She had spent half the night staring at the ceiling, replaying yesterday's events over and over. The contract. The wedding. The cold way Aaron had dismissed her, setting the rules of their so-called marriage like a businessman drafting a deal. "No one must ever know the truth about our marriage." A sharp knock at the door made her flinch. She threw the blankets off and hurried to the door, opening it to find a well-dressed woman standing there, her expression unreadable. "Good morning, Mrs. Blackwood. My name is Valerie. I am Mr. Blackwood's assistant." Mrs. Blackwood. The name still didn't feel real. "Uh... good morning," Angel murmured. Valerie gave a tight smile. "Mr. Blackwood has requested your presence for breakfast. Please follow me." Requested. More like summoned. Angel nodded, smoothing down the simple silk nightgown she had found in the walk-in closet last night. It had probably been chosen for her, just like everything else in this life she had been thrown into. She followed Valerie down the sleek hallway, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The penthouse was massive, its open floor plan revealing a grand living area with floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight spilled into the space, illuminating the city skyline beyond. Everything screamed wealth. But to Angel, it only felt cold. Aaron sat at the dining table, dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He looked effortlessly powerful, as if he had been born to own the world. "Sit," he said, not bothering to look up from his tablet. Angel hesitated before pulling out a chair across from him. A full breakfast was spread across the table-freshly baked croissants, eggs, fruit, and coffee. It was the kind of meal she had only seen in magazines. She swallowed. "I didn't expect-" "I don't like small talk in the morning," Aaron cut in, flipping a page on his tablet. Angel clenched her fists under the table. Of course. Even breakfast with him had rules. Valerie poured her a cup of coffee before stepping back, standing silently near the kitchen. Angel wrapped her hands around the warm mug, trying to steady herself. "I have a schedule for you," Aaron finally said, setting down his tablet. Her stomach twisted. "A schedule?" "Your role as my wife comes with responsibilities," he said. "Public appearances, charity events, and meetings with certain people. You will attend when required. No exceptions." Angel tightened her grip on the mug. Of course. Their marriage wasn't just a contract-it was a performance. And she had to play her part. "Understood," she said quietly. Aaron studied her for a moment, his sharp gaze unreadable. "You will also have access to a personal stylist. I expect you to look the part." Her jaw clenched. "You mean, I have to dress like one of your trophies?" A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Exactly." Heat rose to Angel's cheeks, but she bit her tongue. Arguing with him was pointless. Aaron continued, his voice as smooth as ever. "We have a charity gala in three days. You will be attending with me." Angel's stomach knotted. She had never been to anything remotely close to a high-society event. She had no idea how to act, what to wear, or what to say. "I don't know anything about these kinds of events," she admitted. "You'll learn," he said simply. "And fast." Before she could respond, he took a sip of his coffee, completely unfazed. "And my sister?" she asked, changing the subject. Aaron leaned back in his chair. "She's been moved to a private hospital. Everything is taken care of." Angel exhaled in relief. "Can I see her?" "Not yet." Her head snapped up. "What? Why not?" Aaron's expression didn't change. "For now, the media will be watching us. I can't have you sneaking off to a hospital when we need to establish our image as a newlywed couple." Angel's pulse pounded. "She's my sister-" "And she's being given the best care money can buy," he interrupted smoothly. "This is the price you agreed to pay." Angel's throat tightened. He was right. This was what she had signed up for. Her sister's health in exchange for her freedom. Still, it didn't make it any easier to swallow. "One more thing," Aaron said, watching her carefully. "You will be assigned a driver and security detail. You don't go anywhere without them." Angel frowned. "Security? I don't need a bodyguard." Aaron's eyes darkened. "You do now." She stared at him, searching for any sign of explanation, but his expression was unreadable. "Is there something I should be worried about?" she asked cautiously. Aaron set his cup down with a soft clink. "Let's just say being associated with me makes you a target. And I don't take risks." A shiver ran down Angel's spine. "So I'm trapped here?" she muttered. Aaron smirked. "You were trapped the moment you signed that contract." Angel looked away, frustration bubbling inside her. Aaron stood, adjusting his watch. "You'll receive the schedule from Valerie. Be ready when needed." Without another word, he strode away, leaving Angel sitting alone at the grand dining table, the weight of her new reality pressing down on her. She had sold herself for security. But she was starting to wonder-was the price too high?