Chapter 3 A Collar of Gold

The image of Cain-fangs bared, breath heaving, sweat-soaked-was burned into her mind like a brand. Not because she feared him. But because in that moment, the man who terrified the city looked... terrified himself.

What kind of monster wakes from his own nightmares?

She sat on the edge of her bed, moonlight painting silver across the sheets. Somewhere downstairs, the grandfather clock struck three.

A soft knock startled her.

She opened the door cautiously.

It was Martha, the older housekeeper with kind eyes and a spine of steel. She held a velvet box in her hands.

"From Mr. Wolfe," she said quietly. "He said to give you this tonight."

Lia took it. "Thank you."

When she closed the door and opened the box, her breath caught.

Inside lay a necklace-no, a collar. Gold. Thin. Elegant. But there was no mistaking its symbolism.

It had his name engraved inside: Cain Wolfe.

She stared at it like it might bite.

There was a note beneath it.

"Wear this tomorrow. You're mine."

Lia's fingers curled into fists. Heat climbed up her neck.

He thought he could brand her like property?

Morning came with a storm.

Rain lashed against the windows as Lia descended the staircase, the collar clasped around her neck like a noose. She wore it not out of obedience-but defiance.

She found Cain in the dining hall, reading the paper like the world hadn't cracked open last night.

"You look beautiful," he said, not looking up.

"You're twisted," she replied.

He chuckled. "Most people say thank you."

"You don't get to put your name on me."

"I already did. The moment you signed the contract."

Lia stepped closer, jaw tight. "You wear masks, Cain. Cold billionaire. Silent wolf. But underneath all of it, you're just a scared little boy trying to own everything so no one ever owns you."

That made him look up.

For a second, the room froze. Even the storm outside seemed to quiet.

"Careful, Lia," he said. "You're touching nerves you don't understand."

She stared at him. "Then explain them."

Cain's lips twitched-not a smile. A warning.

"You're not ready."

The day passed in silence.

But something had shifted.

Later, as she walked through the halls, a voice called her name.

She turned.

A tall woman stood in the hallway, soaking wet and furious. Designer coat, sharp heels, and eyes like razors.

"Who are you?" Lia asked.

"I should ask you that," the woman hissed, stepping forward. "I'm Seraphina. Cain's fiancée."

Lia's stomach dropped.

"What?"

She held up her hand. "Was. Until a week ago. We were planning our engagement party-and then suddenly, he disappears and marries you? Who the hell are you?"

"I'm..." Lia swallowed. "His wife."

Seraphina laughed bitterly. "So that's how he's doing it now. Replacing women like toys."

A butler rushed over. "Miss Seraphina, Mr. Wolfe said you are no longer allowed-"

"Tell him I'll see him in hell," she snapped, storming off.

Lia stood frozen.

A discarded fiancée?

How many more hearts had Cain broken before hers?

That night, she didn't wait.

She barged into his study.

"You used me to humiliate her," she accused. "Seraphina. Did you marry me just to make her pay?"

Cain looked up from his drink. Calm. Icy. Dangerous.

"She was a tool," he said. "So are you."

She flinched like he slapped her.

"So that's it?" Her voice cracked. "You buy people. Use them. Then throw them away?"

"People always leave," he said. "I just make sure I end it before they can."

"But I never planned to leave," Lia whispered. "I wanted to understand you."

Cain stood. Slowly. "Then let me help you understand."

He walked over, grasped her wrist, and placed her hand over his heart.

It was racing.

"Does that feel like a man without fear?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"I've buried more secrets in this house than most men have in a lifetime. You think I'm a monster? Fine. But monsters are made, Lia. They're forged."

Her voice trembled. "By what?"

He leaned in, eyes burning. "By love."

Later that night, she couldn't sleep.

Again.

She wandered to the forbidden east wing-the one locked every day, guarded like a vault.

Tonight, it was open.

Lia stepped inside.

Dust lined the furniture. The wallpaper had faded. But on the far wall hung a portrait.

A woman with soft eyes.

She looked like Lia.

Footsteps echoed behind her.

Cain.

"I told you never to come here."

"Who is she?" Lia asked.

"My first wife," he said, voice hollow. "She died in this house. Pregnant with my child."

Lia turned slowly. "What happened?"

Cain didn't speak for a long time.

Then: "I trusted someone I shouldn't. A rival. I left her unprotected. They killed her to get to me."

Lia's throat closed. "I'm... I didn't know."

"She was the only person who ever saw me," he said. "And I couldn't save her."

Tears filled Lia's eyes. "You married me because I look like her."

He shook his head. "I married you because you're nothing like her."

Lia blinked.

"You fight me," he said. "You see through me. You're not afraid to touch the scars."

She stepped forward. "Then stop hiding them."

For the first time, Cain didn't pull away.

And neither did she.