Chapter 3 Gilded Cages

The pen pressed against paper felt heavier than it should have. But once the final stroke was down, it was done. I was Mrs. Volkov, by name only, but the weight of it sat like a stone on my chest. Damian took the contract from me, scanned the signature, and gave a single nod. "Efficient," he said. "I like that." I didn't answer. I didn't owe him anything, not words, not smiles, not even acknowledgment. He might've bought my silence, but not my soul. His office felt colder than when I entered. Or maybe it was me. "You'll move into my penthouse tomorrow," he said.

"The press will expect it." I crossed my arms. "We agreed on appearances. I didn't agree to giving up my freedom." He met my eyes. "You just did." The gall of him. "This marriage may be fake," I snapped, "but I'm still a person, not your pet." "Of course you are," he said coolly, standing to adjust his cufflinks. "A very well-dressed one tonight, if you wear what I sent." I clenched my fists, but forced my voice to steady. "What do you want from me tonight? Eye contact? Forced laughter? A kiss for the cameras?" He moved closer, and for the first time, I saw something shift in his expression. Not warmth, he didn't have that. But something unreadable flickered behind his icy stare. "Be convincing," he said. "They'll be watching. And they don't believe in fairy tales." Neither did I. The gown fit like a second skin, black silk, delicate straps, a plunging back that made me feel both naked and invincible. I hated that he knew my size. Hated more that the dress made me feel powerful in all the wrong ways. At exactly 6:45, the knock came. I opened the door to find Damian standing there, immaculately dressed in a tuxedo, like sin on legs. His gaze traveled from my eyes to my shoes and back. "You clean up well," he said. "Save it," I muttered, stepping past him. The ride to the gala was quiet. Damian's phone buzzed twice, but he ignored it. Instead, he stared out the window as if already calculating his next move. I stole glances at him,his posture, his jawline, the quiet intensity in his eyes. He was dangerous. Calculated. But something in the way he looked out at the city felt... lonely. I turned away. I couldn't afford to humanize him. "You know," I said finally, "people don't usually marry the person who destroyed their lives." He didn't look at me. "People don't usually offer their daughter as collateral." I flinched. He glanced sideways. "Too harsh?" "No," I said quietly. "Just true." The silence after that wasn't comfortable, but it was honest. The gala was being held in a glass museum downtown, with light pouring in from every angle. String lights danced above polished floors, and every guest looked like they'd stepped out of a Vogue spread. Cameras flashed the moment we stepped out of the car. "Smile," Damian said without looking at me, offering his arm. I looped mine through his, lifting my chin. "Just don't forget your lines, husband." He smirked. "I never do." Inside, the room swelled with music, laughter, and ambition. Billionaires, socialites, politicians-they all turned when we walked in. A woman in a crimson dress with a snake tattoo on her shoulder approached with a dazzling smile. "Damian," she purred. "And this must be your new wife?" "Vivienne," he said smoothly. "My wife." Her eyes raked over me. "Charming. And brave." I smiled politely. "It takes bravery to wear a dress that tight." Damian choked on his champagne. The woman's expression froze, then she laughed. "Oh, she's going to be fun." As she slinked away, I turned to him. "Friend of yours?" "Former business partner," he said. "And a gossip with no loyalty." "She seems like your type." He looked at me then, sharp and unreadable. "Not anymore." We made our way through the room, posing for pictures, shaking hands. Damian moved with confidence, charming when needed, brutal when necessary. And I played the part,his beautiful wife, laughing softly, nodding at the right times. But inside, I was crumbling. I hadn't eaten. My heels hurt. My chest felt too tight. And then I saw him. My ex. Caleb. He stood near the bar, drink in hand, eyes wide as they landed on me. "Vivienne?" he asked, stunned. I froze. He walked over slowly, still looking at me like I was a ghost. "What... is this?" I opened my mouth to speak, but Damian stepped in, resting a hand on my lower back. "Hello," he said, voice like frost. "And you are?" Caleb blinked. "I'm Caleb-her boyfriend." "Ex-boyfriend," I corrected, forcing a smile. "From a long time ago." Caleb looked between us. "You married him?" Damian's smile was sharp. "She did. And she wears my ring well, don't you think?" I bit my cheek, nodding. "Perfectly." Caleb shook his head. "Viv, what's going on? This can't be real. You used to hate him." "People change," I said, but the words felt like ash on my tongue. "You're lying," he said. "You're not happy. I can see it." Damian's hand tightened subtly on my waist. "She doesn't owe you explanations." "And you do?" Caleb snapped. "She's not one of your business acquisitions, Volkov." That was it. I stepped between them. "Stop." Both men turned to me. "I made my choice," I said, voice firm. "You don't have to understand it. Just respect it." Caleb's face hardened. "If he hurts you" "He already did," I whispered. "A long time ago." He stared at me, heartbroken. "You don't love him." "I don't have to," I said. "Love doesn't fix anything. Not in real life." Then I turned away. Damian didn't speak until we were alone on the terrace. The night air was crisp, and the city below glimmered like it didn't care about our drama. "You handled that well," he said. I rested my hands on the railing. "Was that another test?" "No," he said. "That was real. You surprised me." "Why? Because I didn't cry?" He moved beside me. "Because you told the truth." We stood there in silence, not looking at each other. "I didn't know you studied drama," he said finally. "I used to want to act," I replied. "Before my life turned into a performance." He didn't respond. After a long pause, I whispered, "I hate you, you know." "I know," he said. And for the first time since I signed the contract, I felt like he actually heard me.