Chapter 6 His Rules, Her Silence

The black Maybach pulled up to the towering iron gates of the Kane estate-silent, sleek, and intimidating. Mia sat stiffly in the back seat, her fingers twisted together in her lap. Lucas hadn't said a word since they left the courthouse, where their impulsive Vegas wedding had just been legally ratified.

Not annulled.

Ratified.

Permanent.

The sound of the gates creaking open was the only thing that broke the silence. The driver didn't glance back. Lucas didn't glance at her. And Mia's stomach twisted with anxiety.

She'd married a billionaire.

But she was arriving at his house like a trespasser.

The car rolled up a semi-circular driveway surrounded by high hedges and fountains. The mansion looming ahead was not a home-it was a fortress made of steel and glass, sharp edges and shadows. Cold, just like its owner.

When the driver opened her door, Mia stepped out, her worn ballet flats touching the glossy marble driveway like she didn't belong.

Lucas stood waiting beside the steps, a tall figure in a dark coat, his face unreadable. "Don't lag behind," he said without looking at her.

Mia flinched. But she followed.

The front doors swung open without a sound, revealing a cavernous entryway with vaulted ceilings, a crystal chandelier that looked like it cost more than her entire childhood, and a sweeping staircase made of white stone. There were no family photos, no cozy rugs. Just silence, luxury, and a faint chill in the air.

A tall woman with her dark hair in a tight bun stood at attention near the entrance. "Mr. Kane," she said with a respectful nod. Her eyes flicked briefly to Mia. "Mrs. Kane."

Mia felt that pause like a slap. Even the help was surprised.

"This is Ingrid," Lucas said dryly. "She's head of the household staff. She'll show you your room."

Mia blinked. "My room?"

Lucas finally met her gaze. "Did you think we'd be sharing one?"

That stung more than she expected.

"No," she said quickly, trying to sound casual. "Of course not."

He walked away without another word, disappearing down a long corridor that swallowed him whole.

Ingrid turned to her, cool and composed. "Follow me."

Mia trailed behind her silently through pristine hallways lined with expensive artwork. The air smelled like citrus and money. No warmth. No welcome.

Ingrid stopped at a door near the west wing and opened it. "This will be your room, Mrs. Kane. Mr. Kane prefers privacy. Meals are at eight and seven. You may dine alone or with him, depending on his schedule. You'll be assigned a driver if you need to go out. Any requests must go through me."

Mia stepped into the room. It was stunning-white and gold with high ceilings, a king-sized bed, and windows that overlooked a private rose garden.

But it felt like a hotel.

And she felt like a guest in her own life.

"Thank you," she murmured, her voice small.

Ingrid nodded and left, closing the door softly behind her.

Mia let out a slow breath and dropped her small duffel bag onto the luxurious bedspread. The contrast was laughable. Canvas and leather against silk and velvet. She sat down and stared at the garden below.

What now?

She didn't even have a toothbrush.

Her marriage to Lucas had been reckless and wild, but now it was real-and she had no idea how to live in this world. No guidebook. No roadmap. No affection from her husband.

Just rules.

A knock startled her.

She opened the door to find a young maid holding a gift box. "From Mr. Kane," the girl said with a shy smile before hurrying away.

Mia opened the box slowly. Inside was a new phone-sleek, black, and expensive. A note was tucked beneath it.

"You'll need this. Don't embarrass me." – L

Her stomach clenched.

Was this how he intended to treat her? Like a temporary employee? A contractual obligation?

She picked up the phone, powered it on, and stared at the blank screen. A single message was already waiting.

Lucas: Dinner. My study. 8 p.m. Sharp.

Her hands trembled as she set the phone down.

The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eight. Dressed in a simple navy dress that Ingrid had arranged for her from the wardrobe, Mia made her way down to the study with trembling legs. The corridors still confused her-like a maze built to intimidate.

When she found the study, the door was ajar. She knocked lightly.

Lucas didn't look up from his laptop. "Come in."

She stepped in and stood awkwardly by the door. The room was wood-paneled and masculine, filled with shelves of books and a glass decanter of scotch on a side table. A small dining setup had been arranged by the window: two plates, wine glasses, candles.

Romantic.

Except he hadn't done it for romance.

"Sit," he said flatly.

She obeyed.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. The food was exquisite-salmon in citrus glaze with white asparagus and a tart tomato salad. Mia barely tasted it.

Lucas sipped his wine and finally looked up at her. "Let's set some ground rules."

Of course. She swallowed.

"This arrangement will last a year," he said. "Until the media forgets. Until my board is satisfied. You'll live here. Attend events with me. Keep up appearances."

Mia nodded. "Okay."

"You will not speak to the press. You will not post on social media. You will not interfere with my business."

"I wasn't planning to," she said quietly.

He raised an eyebrow. "You weren't planning anything. That's the problem."

Her cheeks burned. She looked down at her plate.

He went on. "You'll receive a monthly allowance. More than enough to buy clothes and maintain a proper image. A stylist will be assigned to you. And when this is over, we'll file for divorce quietly. You'll walk away with a settlement. No more. No less."

Mia looked up. "And if I say no?"

Lucas set down his fork. "Then your brother's job disappears. Your landlord gets an offer he can't refuse. And the rumors about you will start to look like facts."

She stared at him, stunned. "You wouldn't."

"I would." His voice was like ice. "Because you said 'I do,' and I intend to make sure you stick to it."

Her throat tightened.

Lucas stood. "Finish your dinner. Ingrid will show you where the events wardrobe is tomorrow. You'll be attending the Whitmore Gala as my wife. Don't be late."

And just like that, he was gone again.

Back in her room, Mia curled up on the massive bed, trying not to cry.

She'd agreed to this to survive. To protect her brother. To stay off the streets. But now she was living in a palace and feeling more like a prisoner than ever before.

Was this what being married to a billionaire meant?

She stared at the phone again. No new messages.

Just his last one: "Don't embarrass me."

But something in her stirred-a flicker of fire in her chest.

She might be out of her league. But she wasn't going to be a pawn forever.

Lucas Kane had married her for convenience.

He thought he could control her.

He thought she'd be silent.

But Mia Carter had just stepped into his world.

And she had no intention of leaving quietly.