She left before the sun rose not because she had a place to be, but because she needed to feel alive again.
No driver. No luxury bag. Just a canvas tote, her sketchbook, a scarf wrapped around her curls, and a heart that hadn't stopped aching since her wedding day.
There was no note.
No breakfast.
No goodbye.
The mansion doors closed behind her like a dream fading too golden, too quiet, too much.
Downtown, her world returned.
The fashion studio sat on the second floor of an old building that used to be an art gallery. It had peeling white walls, a rooftop view, and an open-plan layout that always smelled like fabric glue and takeout noodles. Her boss, Mister Theo, was abroad for a fashion expo. But the heart of the studio the girls were here.
Juliette pushed open the door. The familiar creak made her smile.
Inside, the music was loud something upbeat and French. Sketches were pinned to the walls, mannequins half-dressed in silk, and moodboards lay across every desk.
Then
"OH. MY. GOD."
Juliette was nearly tackled to the floor by a whirlwind of curls and laughter.
It was Zina the calm one with sleepy eyes, now screaming like a child. Behind her, Fola wild, dramatic, never without a pair of huge earrings stood with her hands on her hips like a furious auntie.
"You're alive?" Zina gasped. "Are you really here?!"
Fola nearly cried. "We were this close to printing 'Have You Seen This Girl?' flyers. You disappeared on us!"
Juliette laughed, breathless. "I missed you guys too."
"You look like you've been through a rom-com and a crime series at the same time," Zina muttered, eyeing her scarf.
"You're glowing," Fola added, then leaned in. "Wait. You didn't get married and run off with a billionaire, right?"
Juliette went still for half a second.
"…no," she said. "Just… life got weird."
They didn't press.
Zina looped her arm around Juliette's and pulled her straight to her desk a mess of fabric swatches, coffee cups, and open design software. "Come and feel useful again."
Midday came like sunshine in a bottle.
The girls ordered spicy jollof from the buka down the street. They ate barefoot, sitting on the floor by the window, plates balanced on sketchpads.
"So, where have you been really?" Fola asked, chewing on fried plantain.
Juliette shrugged. "Trying to figure out if I belong anywhere."
Zina nudged her. "Well, you belong here. This place is nothing without your chaos."
Juliette smiled, deeply. Her chest tightened not from sadness, but from how easily they welcomed her back. No questions. Just laughter, gossip, and food.
Evening came too quickly.
Rain tapped softly on the windows. The lights were dimmed. They played a movie on someone's laptop, sipped cold Maltina, and argued about who was better Dior or Alexander McQueen.
Juliette laughed harder than she had in weeks.
Her body relaxed. Her mind forgot.
It didn't feel like a job anymore. It felt like family.
Around 10 PM, Zina looked up from her blanket. "Should we all sleep here?"
Fola raised her brows. "Again?"
Zina shrugged. "It's raining. It's late. Plus, we cleaned the upstairs flat last weekend."
Juliette blinked. "The apartment is still functional?"
"Comfy too," Fola grinned. "I left my Hello Kitty duvet there."
That was how she ended up there on a mattress, in a tiny artist's apartment above the studio, curled beside two friends who didn't know her life had changed completely.
Her ring stayed in her tote.
Her heart stayed silent.
She stared at the ceiling until her eyes burned.
For the first time in weeks, she slept and dreamed.
Back at the mansion, silence had broken.
Cassian's car was parked sharply in the driveway. Inside, the air was thick with tension.
Maya stammered. "Sir, we didn't realize she left early, maybe to see her mother…"
Cassian didn't speak.
He just sat, jacket still on, brows furrowed, jaw sharp as broken glass.
No note.
No call.
No explanation.
He dialed her number again.
No answer.
Another. No reply.
His glass of scotch sat untouched.
His phone screen lit up with silence.
She had disappeared. And she didn't even care that he noticed.
The next morning, Juliette returned just as the sun rose.
She opened the gate quietly. Used the spare key. The house was still. The staff hadn't started their day.
She moved up the steps like a thief in her own life.
And then
"You finally returned."
His voice sliced through the silence.
She stopped.
Cassian stood at the edge of the foyer. Hair slightly messy. Shirt half-buttoned. A storm in human form.
Juliette felt her stomach drop.
He wasn't calm. He wasn't angry.
He was furious.
"You returned?
His voice cut through the marble foyer like frost.
Juliette froze, still holding the strap of her tote bag, her fingers suddenly stiff. She turned slowly he was leaning against the column near the staircase, shirt sleeves rolled, expression unreadable, but everything about him screamed fury.
"Good morning," she said quietly, unsure.
Cassian stepped forward. Slowly. Like a storm gathering pace. "Where were you?"
"I " She swallowed. "I resumed work. I told the staff I was heading out yesterday. It wasn't planned, I just… we ended up sleeping over. I was safe."
"Sleeping over?" he echoed, voice dangerously low. "With who? In what kind of work environment does a woman vanish for a day and spend the night like a vagrant?"
Juliette's heart twisted. "It's not like that. I wasn't alone
"That's not the point."
He stepped closer. The light from the chandelier made his jawline sharp, his stare dark.
"You left this house without informing anyone, including me. You did not take your phone calls. You ignored texts. You were missing for over twenty-four hours. And you think coming back like a schoolgirl who overslept is acceptable?"
Her throat tightened. "You don't even live here properly. You come and go without saying a word. You
"I am not the one who left without permission," he snapped, his tone glacial. "You are my wife. Not some university intern running around with sketchbooks and dreams. That foolish job of yours whatever it is does not come before me."
Her breath caught. "It's not foolish
"Don't interrupt me."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Cassian's voice dropped, calm and terrifying.
"I don't care if you choose to work. But you will not disappear again. You will not sleep anywhere outside this house again. And you will never step out without letting me know first. Do I make myself clear?"
Juliette blinked hard. "So I have to report to you like a child?"
"You are not a child," he said coldly. "You are a Vale now. Everything you do reflects that name. If your job needs you to crawl around dusty studios at night like an orphan, then perhaps it's time to choose a different path. Or no path at all."
She felt her chest twist. "You don't even know what I do
"I don't need to. I know it kept you out all night without my knowledge."
"I didn't know I needed permission to work," she whispered.
"You need permission to breathe in this house, if I say so."
The words hit her like a slap. She took a step back. "This isn't a marriage. This is a cage."
Cassian's expression didn't flicker. "Then don't pretend you didn't walk into it willingly."
Tears burned behind her eyes not because she wanted to cry, but because she had nothing left to say.
He turned away as if the conversation was done.
"From now on," he added over his shoulder, "if you must work, you'll go in a driver. One of the official cars. You'll be picked up and dropped off. You return home daily. No arguments."
"I don't want attention," she snapped. "That would draw eyes. People will talk
"I don't care what people say. Let them talk."
"And what if I don't agree?" she challenged, her voice shaking.
Cassian paused at the foot of the stairs.
Then he looked back at her not with affection, not with concern. Just cold steel.
"Then you don't leave the house again."
She stood there, paralyzed. The walls of the mansion seemed taller now. Tighter. The silence closed in like a noose.
He walked up the stairs and disappeared into his wing.
Juliette clenched her jaw and held her tears back with all the strength she had left.
This was not a partnership.
This was not a home.
This was the price of being his wife.