Surrogate Wife

The marble floors echoed with each reluctant step Emilia took, the sound a cold reminder that this house was not a home-it was a prison, a pristine cage crafted with glinting chandeliers, gold-trimmed mirrors, and walls that seemed to watch her every move. She clutched the delicate fabric of her dress, feeling out of place in her own skin as she made her way down the corridor toward the main living room. She had been summoned, of course. In this house, nothing was her choice.

When she reached the arched entrance, she paused. There, framed by the blinding sunlight pouring in from floor-to-ceiling windows, stood Alessandro DiLaurentis-Alex, the man she'd been forced to marry. His figure was imposing, tall and severe, with an aura that felt more like a threat than a presence. He wore a tailored black suit that accentuated his athletic frame, every inch of him radiating authority. He didn't look at her; he didn't even acknowledge her presence, his sharp gaze fixed on something beyond the glass, his expression unreadable.

"Alex," she said softly, her voice almost swallowed by the vastness of the room.

He turned his head slightly, as if it took an effort to bring her into focus. A faint scowl twisted his features, barely concealed under his polished exterior. He took his time answering, as though the sight of her was a chore he preferred to avoid.

"Emilia," he said, his tone edged with that familiar disdain. "You're late."

"I... I didn't know you needed me here so soon," she replied, keeping her voice steady, though her heart beat faster under his scrutiny.

"That's no excuse," he cut in, his eyes narrowing. "When I ask for you, you come. Is that clear?"

She nodded, biting her lip, feeling that sinking sensation she'd grown used to-the feeling of being diminished, of becoming something small and inconsequential under his gaze.

"Yes. I understand," she said, her voice barely a whisper.

For a brief moment, silence hung between them, thick and stifling. He looked away again, his gaze drifting back to the view outside, where the sprawling estate stretched in all directions. There was a stiffness in his posture, a tension she couldn't quite place.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a cold drawl. "My grandfather is expecting us for dinner tomorrow. You'll wear something appropriate."

Emilia blinked, thrown by the abruptness of his words. "I... of course. I'll find something."

He gave a slight nod, clearly already dismissing her in his mind. But just as she was about to turn and leave, his voice halted her.

"Make no mistake, Emilia," he said, each word slow and deliberate. "This arrangement between us-it's nothing more than a contractual obligation. You're here to serve a purpose, and once that's fulfilled, we'll part ways. Don't forget that."

Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to stand a little straighter. She had known this marriage was only a transaction, but hearing him say it so plainly made her chest ache with a hollow sort of pain. Yet, she wouldn't let him see it.

"Believe me," she replied, her voice steady this time, "I have no illusions about what this is."

A ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips, amused by her attempt at defiance. "Good. Then we understand each other."

Another long silence followed, his gaze lingering on her, studying her in a way that made her skin prickle. She felt exposed, like he could see every thought, every flicker of insecurity she fought so hard to hide.

"What?" she finally managed, desperate to break the oppressive quiet.

"Nothing," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Just wondering what my grandfather saw in you."

The words cut, sharper than any physical blow, and though she kept her face neutral, inside, the hurt twisted deeper. She wanted to snap back, to make him feel the sting of his cruelty, but she knew it would be futile. Nothing she said would change his opinion of her. To him, she was an inconvenience-a placeholder.

"Will that be all?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"For now." He dismissed her with a flick of his hand, his attention already drifting back to the view outside.

Turning, Emilia walked out of the room, her steps as quiet as she could make them. As she reached the hallway, her fingers found the wall, and she leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes. She needed to steady herself, to force back the emotions he'd so effortlessly dredged up. She knew what he thought of her, and she had promised herself she wouldn't let it affect her. But sometimes, in moments like these, his words broke through her defenses, seeping into places she had tried to keep guarded.

"Did he send you running away already?"

The voice startled her, and her eyes flew open to see Vanessa Chen leaning casually against the wall. Vanessa's dark, glossy hair framed a face that was both beautiful and cruel, with eyes that held a glint of amusement as they fixed on Emilia.

"Vanessa," Emilia said, attempting to keep her tone polite.

Vanessa's smile was thin, predatory. "Poor Emilia. I almost feel sorry for you."

Emilia kept her expression neutral, not wanting to give Vanessa the satisfaction of seeing her ruffled. "I don't need your pity."

"Is that so?" Vanessa arched a perfectly shaped brow, her lips curving into a mocking smile. "Because, from where I'm standing, it looks like you're in over your head."

Emilia swallowed, determined not to let Vanessa see how much her words hit home. "Alex and I have an understanding. I don't expect you to understand it."

"Oh, I understand," Vanessa said, her voice dropping to a cold, quiet tone. "I understand perfectly. Alex may be tied to you on paper, but he belongs to me. He always has, and he always will. You're nothing more than a formality."

The words sliced into her, but Emilia didn't let it show. She met Vanessa's gaze with a calm she didn't feel. "Is that why you feel the need to remind me?"

For a second, something flickered in Vanessa's eyes-surprise, maybe even anger. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look of bored indifference.

"Enjoy your little charade while it lasts, Emilia," Vanessa said, her voice dripping with venom. "It won't be long before you're out of the picture."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall, leaving Emilia standing alone, the weight of her words pressing down on her. Emilia took a shaky breath, trying to gather the pieces of herself that had been chipped away in those brief, painful encounters.

She hadn't chosen this life, hadn't asked to be Alex's wife. But now that she was here, she realized that every day would be a battle-a test of how much she could endure without losing herself entirely. And in the dark, twisted world she'd been forced into, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: she was utterly, inescapably alone