The massive, silent house felt less like a home and far more like an opulent, well-guarded museum, and I knew the very moment Adrian closed the heavy, solid oak door behind us that the real, terrifying performance had truly begun, because the grand audience was gone and the stakes were higher than they had ever been. The immense Richard mansion swallowed the sound of our expensive footsteps as we walked through the cavernous marble foyer, a space so vast and coldly beautiful it seemed impossible for human life to genuinely exist there, and the air was thick with the suffocating weight of Adrian's quiet, controlled presence, a pressure far more intense and unforgiving than my mother's screaming ever was. I followed him up another sweeping staircase, my physical exhaustion fighting against a terrifying adrenaline rush, because I knew the conversation that would establish the iron rules of our marriage was imminent and utterly unavoidable.
Adrian stopped before a pair of identical, imposing doors on the second floor, each one leading to a separate master wing, yet he didn't bother to look at me as he spoke, his voice low, gravelly, and utterly devoid of warmth. "This estate is immense, Sophia, and we will be residing in separate wings, which is a detail I believe you will find preferable, considering the very strained circumstances of our arrangement," he stated, his finality leaving no room for discussion. He didn't wait for a response, because in his world, his statement was law, and he led me through the door on the left, which opened into a space that was clearly a woman's domain, lavishly and overly decorated, yet somehow cold and deeply uninviting, perhaps because the entire aesthetic was designed for my sister's chaotic taste, a taste I neither understood nor shared.
"Your luggage has already been unpacked here, and this wing is exclusively yours, containing a private sitting room, dressing area, and a separate exit to the gardens, should you ever feel the necessary need for an escape," he explained, his tone clinical, like a security briefing given to a trusted employee, not a newly married wife. "You will, however, be expected to maintain the flawless appearance of a unified front when outside of these private areas, and you will attend any and all social functions my father or I deem necessary for the stability of the Richard Global Capital merger, which is the only real reason you are here, so remember that every time you feel bored or inconvenienced." His words were a clear, sharp reminder that my value was strictly transactional, tied only to the contracts and the cold preservation of his family's image, which was ironically a cold comfort because it meant he truly wasn't interested in me, the person, and therefore less likely to look too closely.
I finally found my voice, injecting it with the careless, entitled edge of Sophia, which was still terrifyingly difficult to maintain when standing alone with him, stripped of the wedding's social buffer. "And what about your wing, Adrian? Are there any specific rules I need to be aware of, like a 'do not disturb the grumpy billionaire' sign, or will I be punished if I accidentally stumble into your office space?" I challenged him, managing a small, brittle laugh that sounded exactly like the one Amelia had forced me to practice, hoping the sudden bravado would prevent him from seeing the raw panic stirring in my gut.
He turned then, and his intense blue eyes finally fixed on me, the sheer force of his concentrated attention feeling like a physical weight settling directly onto my chest, and the mask of studied indifference he usually wore seemed to slip completely, revealing a profound, bitter cynicism that chilled me to the bone. "My wing is strictly off-limits, Sophia, and you will never, under any circumstances, enter it without my express, written permission, because I value my personal privacy above all things, and I have absolutely no patience for your particular brand of unpredictable emotional chaos," he stated, his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line that promised swift, severe consequences for disobedience. He took a slow, deliberate step closer, closing the distance that was my only shield, and the air crackled with a silent, dangerous tension that made my breath catch in my throat, a horrifying mix of fear and an unexpected, unwelcome awareness of his masculine presence.
"Let me make the rules of our marriage perfectly clear, since we are now behind closed doors, and the public farce has finally ended," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative register that held more absolute power than any shout could convey. "First, you will never, under any circumstances, contact my security or the house staff with any trivial complaints about your lack of freedom, because you are not a prisoner, you are merely a placeholder, and your sole job is to exist quietly and without incident until your ultimate purpose is completely fulfilled." He paused, letting the implication of my humiliating "warm seat" role sink in, the undeniable, ugly truth that I was merely keeping my sister's bed cold until she could be found, and I nodded stiffly, unable to speak, because the naked insult was a deeper, more profound physical blow than any punch could have been.
"Second, we are married in name and on paper, a legal convenience for two powerful families, but we are not a couple, and there will be no intimacy, absolutely no shared bedroom, and zero affectionate pretense within the walls of this house, because I married you solely out of necessity, not desire, and your chaotic, flighty nature is not something I wish to introduce into my disciplined personal life." This was the only specific rule that brought me a strange, paradoxical sense of deep relief, because it protected the quiet core of Sienna's heart from the brutal, degrading reality of sleeping with her sister's husband, yet it also stung, confirming his absolute, complete disdain for the reckless woman he believed me to be, a painful dismissal that I still had to endure.
He leaned in the final, small amount, and his voice became a chilling, almost predatory whisper, a sound that made the fine hairs on my arms rise in response. "Third, and listen carefully to this final command, Sophia, you will not meddle in my vital business affairs, you will not interfere with my deeply personal life, and you will most certainly not try to run away, because if you jeopardize the remaining contracts by creating a scandal, or if you cause any unnecessary chaos that reflects poorly on the sacred Richard name, I will not hesitate to use the full, crushing force of my resources to ensure your entire family is financially ruined, which is a promise I always keep, so never doubt my ability to destroy everything you care about." The threat was delivered with cold, surgical precision, and I knew, with absolute, terrifying certainty, that he was speaking the simple, undeniable truth, because Adrian Richard was clearly a man who saw the world only as a calculated transaction and betrayal as the most unforgivable sin.
He finally straightened, the sudden, blessed release of his intense focus allowing me to gasp a proper breath of air, and he took a quick step back, the distance instantly restoring the protective barrier between us. He gestured toward the far end of the lavish room, where a simple, inconspicuous door was tucked discreetly into the wallpaper. "Your private dressing room and bathroom are through there, and I strongly suggest you get some much-needed rest, because tomorrow, the real duties of being Mrs. Adrian Richard will officially begin, and they involve far more than just looking pretty at a white wedding, because you will be working for your keep."
He turned without another word or even a glance, walking back to the door that led out of my new wing, leaving me standing utterly alone in the silent, gilded prison, staring at the closed door that now rigidly separated me from my lawful, cynical, and terrifyingly demanding husband. I walked to the nearest window, watching the distant, glittering, carefree lights of the city that now seemed impossibly far away, and I felt the cold, heavy weight of the stolen identity pressing down on me, knowing with a sinking certainty that the easy part—the wedding and the beautiful dress—was entirely over, and the long, dangerous con of my fake, necessary marriage had just truly begun.