Talia stood frozen in the doorway of the penthouse suite, the hum of the elevator fading behind her. The silence stretched, thick and unfamiliar, as her eyes swept across the sprawling room—glass walls, silver accents, marble floors that gleamed under the chandeliers.
Too pristine. Too perfect.
Too far from anything that had ever felt like home.
She stepped inside cautiously, her fingers tightening around the strap of her small bag. Every step echoed like she was walking on glass. The kind that could crack beneath her at any moment.
Liam stood at the far end of the room, back to her, phone in hand. Even in stillness, there was power in the way he held himself—broad shoulders, sharp lines, an air of control that made it impossible to ignore his presence.
He turned at her approach, pocketing his phone and pretend like he wasn't waiting for her.
"You're late," he said flatly.
Talia's throat tightened. "I—there was traffic. And Claudia... she tried to stop me."
Liam's jaw twitched at the mention of her stepmother's name. "Did she hurt you?"
Who?
Your step mum.
"No. And who told you she does."
That answer shouldn't have sounded normal, but somehow, it did. That unsettled him more than he expected.
He studied her for a moment—how she tried to shrink into herself, how her eyes darted around like she expected to be scolded just for breathing.
He exhaled slowly. "Come in. You're safe."
I don't want it to look like torturing my new wife,,
Safe.
The word made her want to cry.
But then. The next word shattered the feeling of tears..
He's evil...
She nodded and took a hesitant step forward. The staff moved around discreetly, bringing in her things. Someone offered her a warm bowl of soup and a soft-spoken welcome, but Talia barely heard any of it. Her head buzzed with too much noise from within.
When they were finally alone, the silence returned. Liam poured himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter, watching her.
"You haven't eaten," he said.
"I'm not hungry."
"You need to eat."
She offered a tight smile. "You always sound like you're giving orders."
He raised a brow. "And you always avoid answering directly."
Talia sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded in her lap. "I didn't expect you to wait up for me."
"I wasn't. I had work."
A lie. He'd been pacing for the past hour, checking the time more often than he'd like to admit. But he wasn't about to say that aloud.
Talia looked at the untouched soup on the coffee table. "This place is beautiful."
"It's just a building."
"No," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "It feels like a different world. One I don't belong in."
Liam crossed the room and sat across from her, his gaze steady. "You belong here, Talia. With me."
She shook her head, staring at her hands. "You don't know me."
"Then let me."
Talia looked up, startled. There was no mockery in his tone. Just quiet conviction. That scared her more than anything. She'd grown up surrounded by people who only saw her as a burden or an inconvenience. Liam saw something else—something she didn't yet understand.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked.
"This?"
"This... marriage. Protecting me. Treating me like I matter."
Liam hesitated. "Because someone I care about asked me to."
"Eleanor?"
"Yes. And because I saw enough to know you needed help. You deserved better than what you were given."
Her heart ached at that. "Do you always keep your promises?"
"I try."
"And this contract... what happens when it ends?"
Liam leaned forward slightly. "That depends."
"On what?"
"On whether you still want to walk away."
Talia swallowed. "Why wouldn't I?"
He looked at her then—truly looked. Into the cracks she tried to hide. "Because sometimes, contracts can lead to something real."
---
Later that night, Liam stood in his study, staring at the skyline through the floor-to-ceiling glass. The city below buzzed with life, but up here, it was silent. Almost too quiet.
His thoughts drifted to Talia, lying in the guest bedroom. He had chosen the room carefully—away from his, warm colors, soft lighting, a space that might ease the transition. But he doubted any room could make her feel at home yet.
He sipped his scotch and opened the drawer to retrieve an old photograph. Two women smiling on a beach—his mother and Eleanor Rivers, arms around each other like sisters.
So much had changed since then. Promises had been made. And now, he was holding the weight of them in his hands.
His phone buzzed.
Eleanor: Is she settling in?
Liam: Trying. She's stronger than she looks.
He stared at the screen for a long moment before typing again.
Liam: Do I tell her the truth?
The reply came a minute later.
Eleanor: Not yet. Her heart's still too soft. Let her fall in love with herself first... before she falls in love with you.
Liam set the phone down, the words echoing in his chest.
Too late, he thought bitterly.
Because something inside him had already begun to shift.
And it had nothing to do with contracts.
...
I'm really trying to understand myself lately.... Is this really pity i feel for her or something else.....
Sir can i come in?
Sir, Sir,
I looked up to see Edward my personal assistant.... More of a brother.
You look lost sir, anyways you have meetings with Mr Williams by 2pm, and you need to be there because this is a major business...
Sir Sir Sir
LIAM DONT FUCKING TELL ME YOURE LOST AGAIN...
That's it
I'm done for....
Told my grandma that marriage is a distraction... This girl is something, we haven't even started and I am loosing concentration...
Edward park some of my things .. we would be staying at my villa by the seaside...
What time is the meeting again?
2pm. Bro u need to focus, it an international contract a long awaiting one at that.