The silence in the penthouse was deafening.
Hana stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the master bedroom, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if that could shield her from the coldness that wasn't coming from the temperature but from the man she'd just married.
Leon.
Her husband.
In name only.
He hadn't come into the bedroom at all last night. After their awkward wedding dinner, where barely three words were exchanged, he'd retreated into his study and hadn't emerged until long past midnight. She knew because she had stayed awake, listening for the soft sound of the door creaking open, hoping she didn't even know what for. Perhaps that he would say something. Perhaps that he would acknowledge her existence.
But he hadn't.
And now, with morning light filtering through the windows, casting golden beams across the minimalist furniture, Hana felt more alone than ever.
She wasn't used to this kind of loneliness.
Growing up poor, she had been surrounded by noise. Her mother humming in the kitchen. Her aunt scolding kids in the alley. The sounds of life.
Now?
Only silence.
A knock at the door startled her. She turned quickly, expecting a maid but it was Leon.
Dressed in a crisp gray suit, his jaw freshly shaven, his cold, unreadable eyes scanned her once, then flicked away.
"We'll have dinner with my parents tomorrow," he said without preamble. "Wear something formal. My assistant will send a stylist this afternoon."
"Dinner with your parents?" Hana echoed, blinking.
Leon's brow twitched. "It's part of the deal, isn't it? Appearances. Don't worry, I'll do the talking. You just have to smile and look obedient."
Her chest tightened.
"Is that what you married? A puppet?" she whispered.
Leon didn't answer. His fingers adjusted the cuffs of his shirt as if brushing off the question entirely.
"Also," he added flatly, "there are rules in this house."
"Rules?" she asked.
"No entering my study without permission. No touching my things. If there's anything you need, talk to Mrs. Ko our housekeeper. Keep your personal life private. And don't expect me to play the husband."
His words hit her harder than a slap.
He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.
"Then why did you marry me?"
He paused, his back still to her. "Because I needed a bride. And you needed money. It's a transaction. Don't forget that."
With that, the door closed behind him.
The rest of the day passed in a haze.
The stylist did arrive, accompanied by a personal shopper and two assistants. They measured her, fitted her, and draped luxurious fabrics across her body like she was a doll to be dressed. Hana endured it silently. She didn't have the energy to fight.
But as they pinned up her hair and chose a pair of diamond earrings from a velvet tray, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Who was this woman?
This wasn't her. This wasn't the girl who used to study in a crowded library after work, eating crackers for dinner and dreaming of one day having a real home.
Now she had the home but not the heart.
When evening came, she sat alone at the massive dining table, too grand for just one person. She picked at her food, her thoughts distant.
Leon didn't come home.
Not that she was surprised.
The next morning, the car was already waiting when she came downstairs. A sleek black Mercedes, polished to a shine. The driver opened the door silently.
Leon was inside.
He didn't look at her as she slid into the seat beside him. No greeting. No nod. Nothing.
Hana folded her hands in her lap and stared out the window.
This is my life now.
The mansion came into view after a short drive. The Delacroix family estate. Grand, historic, intimidating.
Hana's heart pounded.
They entered the marble foyer together, but still apart. Leon didn't offer his arm. He didn't even slow his pace.
Inside the main salon, a woman stood waiting.
Tall. Regal. Beautiful.
Leon's mother.
"So this is the wife," she said, eyes narrowing.
Hana bowed slightly. "Good evening, Madam Delacroix."
The woman didn't smile. "You speak well. Where are your parents from?"
"Indonesia, ma'am."
"I see. That explains the accent."
Hana flinched, but said nothing.
Leon's father entered then, shaking her hand stiffly, as if she were a new employee rather than a daughter-in-law. They sat for dinner, and Hana was grilled with subtle, pointed questions about her education, her family, her intentions.
Leon said nothing.
Didn't defend her. Didn't speak up.
Not even once.
Afterward, in the car, she broke.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked. "Why did you let them treat me like that?"
Leon's voice was ice. "You're not here to impress them. You're here to fulfill a contract. And you better get used to it."
She looked at him, really looked.
And she realized:
She didn't know this man at all.
They were strangers.
Strangers under the same roof.
And maybe that was more dangerous than being enemies.