Chapter 3 Bound by Vows, Not by Love

In the morning, Nolan would leave early-sometimes even before the sun came up. At night, he'd come back, usually just long enough to have a quick dinner before disappearing into his office in the mansion. We never had deep conversations. No small talk. It felt like I was just another person living in the house-not his wife, not someone he cared about.

I spent most of my time reading, taking short walks in the garden, or simply staring out the window, hoping to see something beyond the tall fences and the guards in uniform.

From the outside, this mansion looked like a dream. But to me, it was nothing more than a fancy prison.

One night, while I was still awake in bed, the bedroom door opened. Nolan walked in calmly, took off his jacket, and carelessly threw it over a chair. His tie was loose-he looked tired.

I closed the book I had been pretending to read.

"You're finally home," I said, more to myself than to him.

Nolan glanced at me like my presence didn't matter. "You're still awake?"

I didn't answer right away. I watched him slowly unbutton his sleeves, his movements relaxed-like everything was normal. Like his constant absences didn't need any explanation.

"I never sleep early," I said at last.

He just nodded, then walked over to pour himself a drink. No words. No effort to explain. Only silence between us.

I looked at him, feeling more and more frustrated.

"Why even have a wife if you're never around?"

Nolan paused, then turned to face me. His expression was hard to read. "Would you prefer me to stay home?"

I scoffed at the ridiculous question. "I'd rather be allowed to leave this place."

He didn't answer right away. He slowly walked toward me, his face calm-but there was something in his eyes that made me nervous.

"I don't remember giving you permission for that," he said, his voice low, like a warning.

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to snap back. "And I don't remember needing permission just to live."

He went quiet.

I thought he might get angry. But instead, he laughed softly-not because something was funny, but like he found my defiance amusing.

"You're stubborn," he said finally.

I stared at him without backing down. "And you're annoying."

Nolan just shook his head slightly, set down his glass, and walked to the door. Before leaving, he paused and looked back at me.

"Go to sleep. I have a meeting."

I let out a long sigh after he left.

Even when he was home, he still felt so far away. And inside these luxurious walls, I felt more and more lost-like I didn't know who I was to him anymore.

The days went by without any real change.

Nolan came home less and less. Sometimes, I wondered if he even lived here. He'd show up late at night and be gone before I woke up. And even when he was home, he was glued to his laptop or phone, always working.

And me?

I was still stuck in this mansion like a display doll.

Big, fancy, beautiful-but still trapped.

I couldn't go anywhere. Every time I walked near the gate, the guards just stared at me. I once tried going farther than usual, just to feel what it was like to "break the rules." But before I could reach the front door, two large guards blocked my path with blank expressions.

I raised my hand and forced a smile. "Just wanted some fresh air."

They didn't move.

I tried to step forward again-and they stepped forward too.

"Seriously, I just-"

They didn't say a word, just gave me a look that clearly said, Try it, and see what happens.

I sighed and gave up, turning back toward the house.

Damn it. I wasn't even allowed a taste of freedom.

That night, I woke up to the sound of footsteps in the room.

My eyes were heavy, but I felt something strange. I blinked, trying to adjust to the darkness-and then I froze.

Something was pressing down on me.

I'd felt this before.

I opened my eyes fully-and Nolan's face was just inches from mine. His breath was warm against my cheek. His body-God, his whole body-was lying on top of me.

I tried to move, but it was useless. My movement only made Nolan mumble in a sleepy, low voice:

"Don't move, Kelly."

I froze. "Nolan, wake up."

He didn't respond. Instead, he pulled me closer, his face buried in the curve of my neck. His breathing was calm and steady.

Okay. This is bad.

"Nolan, let go of me."

God, if I had to choose a way to die, I wouldn't want it to be crushed under this annoying Italian mafia boss.

"Nolan," I whispered, trying to stay calm.

He stared at me for a while, then slowly and deliberately let go. But before I could move, he leaned in and whispered in my ear:

"You're so tiny in my arms, Kelly."

Oh, come on-I'm not that short. I'm actually 172 cm (about 5'8"). But unfortunately, this man is probably 195–200 cm (around 6'5"–6'7").

I quickly rolled away from him. Behind me, I heard him chuckle softly.

I glared at him. "What's so funny?"

He didn't answer. Just picked up his phone and checked something, his face turning blank again.

I rolled my eyes. "You come home less and less."

"Yeah."

That's it? Just "yeah"?

I turned to face him, annoyed. "You're never home. I'm trapped in this place. And everyone acts like it's normal. Seriously, Nolan, am I your wife or your prisoner?"

He glanced at me. "Both."

I paused, then threw a pillow at him. "Jerk."

He caught it easily, like he saw it coming.

"I'm protecting you."

I laughed bitterly. "Protecting or locking me up? I don't even know if the outside world still exists. Has the apocalypse started? Are there zombies? Aliens? I have no idea!"

Nolan sighed and put down his phone. "The outside world isn't as safe as you think, Kelly."

I looked at him in disbelief. "Is it the world that's dangerous, or just your world?"

He didn't answer.

I crossed my arms, standing near the closet. "I'm bored, Nolan. I want to go outside."

He stared at me for a while, then finally got up from the bed and walked toward me. I took a step back out of instinct, but he moved faster and trapped me between his body and the wardrobe.

"And what if I don't let you?" he said in a low, almost whispered voice.

I stared back, trying not to show fear. "Then I'll find my own way."

He looked at me for a few seconds, then smirked, his expression full of challenge. "Go ahead. Try."

I clenched my fists. I really wanted to punch him, but I knew that wouldn't end well.

Instead, I tilted my head up and gave him my most defiant look. "You think I won't?"

"No," he said casually. "I know you can't."

I wanted to argue, but before I could say anything, he stepped back and picked up his phone again-as if I didn't matter anymore.

Unbelievable.

I wanted to scream. Throw something. Do anything.

Then... I had an idea. A crazy one.

I cleared my throat, walked to the desk, grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. Calmly, I started writing.

Nolan glanced over briefly. "What are you doing?"

I smiled slightly, then held up the paper so he could read it:

"I'M GOING ON A HUNGER STRIKE UNTIL YOU LET ME OUT."

He stared at the paper for a few seconds, then raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

I gave him a sharp look. "Dead serious."

He put down his phone and looked at me with an unreadable expression.

Then he laughed.

Not the reaction I was hoping for.

"What's so funny?" I snapped.

He just shook his head, his grin widening. "I'm curious how long you'll last."

I clenched my jaw. "We'll see."

And in that moment, I realized something.

I might not be able to fight Nolan with force. I might not be able to run. But I still had one weapon:

Stubbornness.

If Nolan wanted to play this game, I was going to make damn sure he didn't win easily.