Chapter 2 The Billionaire's Cold Rules

The first morning of her new life began with silence.

No breakfast.

No husband.

Only a heavy black binder waiting on the dining table like a challenge.

Liana sat alone in the cavernous kitchen-granite counters gleaming, walls covered in chrome and glass. Everything was expensive. Sterile. Lifeless.

She flipped open the binder.

Inside, the first page read:

Thorne Estate Regulations

Failure to comply will result in termination of the marriage agreement.

Her chest tightened. Marriage agreement?

This wasn't a union. It was a transaction. A cage with polished walls.

She turned the page.

Rule One:

You are not to leave the estate without permission. Security clearance is required for all exits.

Rule Two:

You will maintain public appearances as Mrs. Thorne when required. A stylist and publicist will be assigned.

Rule Three:

You will not speak to the media. Ever.

Rule Four:

No personal guests allowed. Not even family.

Rule Five:

No entering the west wing of the estate. Ever.

Liana swallowed hard.

The rules read like laws. Absolute. Unbending.

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

She closed the binder and stood, pacing the kitchen like a prisoner trying to map her cell.

A soft click echoed behind her.

She turned.

Killian stood in the doorway, black suit, no tie, shirt sleeves rolled just enough to reveal the tension in his forearms. He looked like he hadn't slept. Or maybe he just didn't need it.

"You read the rules?" he asked flatly.

Liana nodded. "Yes."

He walked toward the coffee machine. "Good. Follow them and this marriage will go smoothly."

"Is that what you want?" she asked. "A smooth marriage?"

His pause was only half a second but she caught it.

"I want order," he said. "Control. No surprises."

Liana didn't respond.

Because she was a surprise. A walking, talking lie in a borrowed ring and a stolen identity.

And he didn't even know it yet.

---

Killian poured his coffee, took a sip, then glanced at her.

"You'll be meeting with my legal advisor today," he said. "He's drawing up a prenup addendum. Retroactive."

"Retroactive?" she echoed.

He looked at her, cold. "In case you thought marrying me gave you access to anything."

Liana blinked. "I didn't marry you for money."

He arched an eyebrow, slowly. "No? Then why did you marry me?"

Her mouth opened. Nothing came out.

Because she couldn't say: I did it to save the family name. I did it because my sister ran away. I did it because your wedding was a train speeding off a cliff and I was thrown in front of it.

Instead, she said the only thing she could:

"I was told it was what you wanted."

He studied her then longer than before.

A beat passed. Then two.

"Eat something," he said finally, his voice clipped. "You'll need energy. Public appearance tomorrow night. Charity gala."

Then he left, his footsteps fading into the marble silence.

The rest of the day passed like a shadow moving through velvet.

Liana met Killian's assistant, a sleek woman named Mara who gave her a stack of files to memorize-family names, business partners, press talking points.

"This marriage is already news," Mara said crisply. "The press knows something's off. They can smell it."

Liana stayed silent.

Because the press was right.

Something was off.

Everything.

---

That night, she wandered the estate.

Room after room of curated beauty. Minimalist luxury. Ice. Steel. Glass.

But no warmth. No photos. No life.

It was a house built by someone who didn't want to be remembered.

She paused at the threshold of the west wing just beyond the grand staircase.

Rule Five.

She wasn't allowed in there.

But why?

What was he hiding behind the oak doors with brass handles?

A past? A secret?

A grave?

She took a step closer.

The door was locked.

Hours later, she sat alone on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. She still wore the wedding ring. A flawless diamond set in platinum. Cold. Heavy.

It wasn't hers.

Just like this life wasn't.

Who am I becoming?

She didn't know.

All she knew was this:

She had married a man who saw her as an obligation. A body in a dress. A placeholder in a plan.

But Killian Thorne didn't realize something yet.

Liana might have been the wrong twin...

But she wouldn't be the silent one.