Chapter 2 A stranger's home

The guest wing of the Lancaster estate was larger than Arielle's entire childhood home. White marble floors gleamed beneath her hesitant steps, and golden chandeliers sparkled overhead like stars she couldn't reach. Every wall bore original artwork, and every hallway was eerily silent-too quiet for a place this grand.

This wasn't a home. It was a fortress.

She paused outside the room Madam Ava had shown her. It was lavish, pristine, and suffocating. The four-poster bed was draped in white silk, and the view overlooked the vast Lancaster gardens. There were no personal items, no warmth. Just perfection and distance.

Arielle sat down on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

Married. She was actually married-to Damien Lancaster.

And he hated her.

The memory of his voice echoed in her ears. "You're not wanted."

She didn't want him either. But here she was, bound by a contract neither of them had signed willingly.

Her fingers brushed the wedding ring on her finger. Heavy. Cold. It felt like a shackle.

A sharp knock on the door startled her.

Emily's voice filtered through the other side. "Arielle? It's me."

Arielle rushed to open it, pulling her childhood best friend into a tight embrace. "You came?"

"Of course I came," Emily whispered. "I saw the news. I had to sneak in like one of the waitstaff. What the hell happened?"

Arielle closed the door behind them. "Cecilia ran away."

"Seriously?"

"She was too scared to marry Damien. Marilyn forced me to take her place."

Emily stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "You married Damien Lancaster? Are you okay?"

"No. But I'll survive."

Emily pulled her to the bed. "Tell me everything."

So Arielle did. She told her about the rushed morning, the silent ceremony, and Damien's cold fury. She even told her about how Damien had touched her-and nothing happened.

Emily frowned. "You're saying you're the only woman who's ever touched him without triggering his condition?"

"I guess so."

"Then this is huge, Ari."

Arielle sighed. "It doesn't mean anything. He still hates me."

Emily's eyes gleamed. "Not for long."

Before Arielle could respond, her phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number lit up the screen.

"Come to the family dining hall. Now." – Damien.

Her stomach clenched. "He wants me downstairs."

Emily squeezed her hand. "You got this. Don't let them push you around."

---

The family dining hall was a grand, long chamber with a table that could seat thirty. At the far end sat Damien, flanked by three others she hadn't yet met.

On his left sat a stern older man with silver hair-Charles Lancaster, Damien's father. Beside him was a younger man with a playful smirk and striking eyes-Julian Lancaster, Damien's younger brother. And at the head of the table sat Eleanor Lancaster, the family matriarch.

Damien