The gates of the Kavinsky estate groaned open like the jaws of a beast. Cold steel, taller than trees, flanked by cameras and armed guards. It wasn’t just a mansion—it was a fortress.

Lily didn’t look up as the car rolled in. Her veil had been discarded, her dress wrinkled from hours of sitting stiffly beside Leo, who hadn’t said a word the entire ride. His posture had remained statuesque, a perfect picture of controlled rage. One hand on his phone. The other tapped the leather seat in a slow, ticking rhythm that matched the dread in her stomach.

She thought she'd felt fear before. She was wrong. This—this felt like a sentence.

He removed a cigarette and lit it. “Care for a smoke.” He asked.

She had only ever smoked when she was with Daou and never liked it any other time.

“ No, I don't smoke.”

“Right. I don’t even want an engine operator for a housewife.”

“ Why did you ask if you never even wanted to give me one? Isn't that rude?”Lily replied.

“What's rude is how you're talking to me. And you really should end it.”

The doors of the estate opened before they reached them, a line of servants standing at attention on either side. But it was the woman at the top of the marble steps who made Lily’s skin crawl.

Mrs Kavinsky.

Tall. Severe. Impossibly elegant in navy silk and diamonds that caught the afternoon light like knives. Her gray-streaked hair was pulled into a tight chignon. Her lips were sharp with crimson lipstick. Her eyes—Leo’s eyes—were empty but cold.

Lily stepped out of the car like a prisoner arriving at her final destination.

Mrs Kavinsky’s gaze raked over her. Not once did she smile.

Not once did she greet her.

“So,” she said finally, voice dry as dust. “This is what disgrace wrapped in white looks like.”

Lily didn’t flinch, though her throat clenched.

“I’m sorry we didn’t invite you to the first wedding,” Mrs Kavinsky continued, slowly descending the stairs. “Oh, wait—you ran away from that one, didn’t you?”

“Mother,” Leo said quietly. A warning.

Mrs Kavinsky raised a perfectly arched brow. “Don’t hush me, Leo. If she’s going to sully our name, she may as well get used to how we speak around here.” She turned to Lily. “I don’t like you. I don’t trust you. And you’ve brought scandal to my doorstep. But you’re here now. So be useful. Don’t embarrass us again.”

“Like I wanted it to happen,” Lily murmured, eyes on the marble.

Valentina Kavinsky leaned in, her perfume thick and cloying. “None of us do, darling. But unlike you, we don’t throw tantrums in airports. We manage. We obey. That’s what real women do.”

Lily didn’t reply. She didn’t have the strength.

Valentina turned on her heel and swept back up the stairs, trailing venom and diamonds behind her.

The servants helped with Lily’s bags. No one spoke.

Leo remained behind her the whole way, a looming shadow, until they reached her new room.

It was not a honeymoon suite.

It was a wing.

Huge. Immaculate. Cold. Like someone had designed it without imagining it would ever need to feel like a home. Velvet curtains. Cream-colored walls. A grand canopy bed at the center, untouched and intimidating. No personal effects. No photos. Nothing soft.

She turned to him, her voice a whisper:

“Why did you bring me here?”

Leo stepped forward, the door clicking shut behind him.

His eyes raked over her slowly, methodically. Like she was something to be unwrapped, not understood.

“I gave you everything,” he said calmly. “I gave your father the deal he begged for. Your mother the dignity of a second wedding. And your family the safety they’ve clung to since your little performance at the airport.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t,” he cut in, stepping closer. “You don’t get to rewrite history, Lily. You left me. You humiliated me. Twice.”

“You humiliated me first,” she whispered.

He tilted his head. “By asking you to marry me?”

“You never asked.” Her fists clenched. “You made deals with my parents behind my back. You treated me like property, Leo.”

His jaw tightened. His voice turned to ice.

“You are property now.”

Lily blinked, swallowing the scream that built in her throat.

“I’ll play the role,” she said, voice cracking. “Smile in public. Be a good wife. Just… don’t expect me to pretend.”

Leo stared at her for a long time. Then, so softly it made her tremble, he said:

“You think you’re still in control. That’s adorable.”

He stepped closer, and she instinctively backed away.

“You will sleep in this room. You will attend every function. You will smile when spoken to. And you will give me heirs.” He ran a finger along her jaw, not gently. “You don’t have to like me, Lily. You just have to obey.”

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

Something dark flickered in his eyes. Not surprising. Not pain.

Amusement.

“You’re brave tonight,” he murmured. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

He turned and left.

The sun set. Dinner was served in silence.

She didn’t eat.

Servants came and went like ghosts, and Valentina did not dine with them. Leo sat at the head of the table. She sat far down the other end.

No one dared look up.

Later, alone in her room, Lily sat in her room on the bed going through her phone.

There was no escape now.

Then—a knock.

She turned. The door creaked open slowly.

Leo.

No jacket. Shirt unbuttoned just enough to expose the sharp line of his collarbone.

Her stomach dropped.

“No.”

He closed the door behind him.

“I’ve done everything you asked,” she said quickly, stepping back. “I came back. I stood at that altar. I wore the dress. I said yes.”

He nodded once, slowly.

“So tonight, I collect.”

Lily’s breath hitched. “You don’t have to do this.”

He raised a brow. “I know.”

She reached for the edge of the vanity, gripping it to steady herself.

“Leo, please.”

His eyes flicked over her. “You’re my wife now. That comes with duties.”

“I’m not ready.”

He tilted his head, voice hushed. “You should’ve thought of that before you ran. Before you disgraced me. Before you chose that thing.”

The name struck her like a slap.

Leo smiled, dark and slow. “Did you think he’d come back for you? That your little airport stunt would make him a hero? He is gone, Lily. And now you’re mine. Don't act like you didn't like it when you were with him.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “You’re not like this.”

“You don’t know me,” he said simply. She backed into the wall.

He reached for her face. She turned away.

His touch wasn’t brutal. But it was empty.

And her heart screamed in silence.

When he pressed his lips to hers, it was not a kiss—it was a theft. Then she pushed him with a slap.