The wedding was perfect.
At least, that was what the world saw.
Hundreds of guests filled the grand ballroom of the Rosewood Hotel, their laughter and clinking glasses echoing under the glittering crystal chandeliers. Journalists fought for the best angle, camera flashes exploding like fireworks. A ten-piece orchestra played a soft waltz while waiters in white gloves carried trays of champagne.
Every corner of the room was bathed in gold light, every table adorned with rare white orchids imported from Singapore. The media would call it the "Wedding of the Year."
But to Isabella Moretti, it felt like a funeral.
She stood beside Adrian Kane at the altar, the silk of her couture gown heavy against her skin. The dress fit like a dream, yet she couldn't breathe. Her fingers, wrapped around a bouquet of pale roses, were ice cold.
She didn't remember the vows she had just repeated, nor the moment the officiant pronounced them husband and wife. It was all a blur like she was watching someone else's life from behind a glass wall.
Adrian's hand rested lightly on her waist as they turned to face the crowd. He was smiling, but she could feel the tension in his grip, the coldness in his touch. To the guests, they were the perfect couple: the billionaire CEO and his stunning bride. But Isabella knew better.
This was a transaction.
The applause thundered as they descended the marble steps, photographers shouting their names. Adrian leaned close enough for his lips to almost brush her ear.
"Smile, Mrs. Kane," he murmured. "You're supposed to look happy."
She forced her lips into a delicate curve, praying no one saw the truth in her eyes.
The reception dragged on for hours. There were speeches, toasts, and endless small talk with strangers who spoke of stock prices and mergers as if they were discussing the weather. Adrian was a master at it his charm effortless, his laughter calculated.
Isabella barely touched her champagne. She kept her responses polite, her smile fixed, her mind elsewhere. Every time she glanced at her new husband, he seemed perfectly composed, as if the day was nothing more than another business deal.
Finally, the music shifted to a slower melody, and the MC announced their first dance as husband and wife.
Adrian extended his hand. "Shall we?"
She placed her fingers in his, the contact sending a strange jolt through her. His hand was warm, steady, and yet there was no tenderness in his gaze only possession.
The ballroom blurred as they moved together, his steps precise, hers cautious. From the outside, they were the picture of elegance. Inside, Isabella's heart pounded with every measured spin.
"Relax," he said quietly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "The sooner you stop looking like a deer in headlights, the easier this will be for both of us."
She bit back a retort. "Forgive me if I'm not used to marrying strangers."
His lips twitched as if amused. "You'll get used to it."
By the time the last guest left, Isabella's cheeks ached from forced smiles. She followed Adrian into the waiting limousine, the city lights flickering through the tinted windows. Neither spoke during the ride to his penthouse.
When the elevator doors opened, she stepped into a world of polished marble, black leather, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. It was breathtaking cold, but breathtaking.
Adrian removed his tie, loosening the collar of his shirt. "The guest room is down the hall to the left," he said casually, as if discussing the weather.
Isabella froze. "Guest room?"
He glanced at her, expression unreadable. "Did you expect otherwise?"
Her chest tightened. "We're married."
"In name only," he reminded her. "Don't misunderstand what this is, Isabella. You got what you wanted your father's debt cleared, his safety assured. I got what I needed a wife. Nothing more."
The words stung more than she cared to admit.
Adrian moved past her, heading toward his own bedroom. But just before disappearing inside, he stopped and looked back.
"One more thing," he said. "Stay out of my office. And don't go anywhere without telling Marcus. This city… isn't safe for you."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Isabella stood alone in the vast penthouse, the silence pressing in around her. Her wedding night had ended not with kisses or whispered promises, but with separate rooms and a warning.
She set down her bouquet on the marble counter, the white roses already beginning to wilt.
Somewhere deep inside, a small, defiant spark flared.
If this was going to be her life, she wasn't going to let Adrian Kane control every part of it. Contract or not she was still her own person.
And she intended to prove it.
The guest room was beautiful too beautiful for someone who felt so unwanted.
Isabella stepped inside and closed the door, leaning her back against it. The room smelled faintly of lavender, the sheets perfectly pressed, the furniture minimal but elegant. A large window framed the glittering skyline, the Empire State Building glowing in the distance.
She dropped her heels to the floor, the click of them echoing in the silence. The relief of standing barefoot was overshadowed by the emptiness curling in her chest. She had just married a man who looked at her like she was a pawn in a chess game… and nothing more.
For a moment, she sat at the edge of the bed, fingers twisting the gold wedding band on her hand. The ring fit perfectly, but it felt foreign heavy, as if it carried the weight of invisible chains.
From beyond the door, she heard faint movement. Footsteps. A low voice speaking on the phone. She couldn't make out the words, but there was a certain sharpness in Adrian's tone, a clipped authority that sent a chill down her spine. Whoever he was talking to, it wasn't business from the boardroom it was something darker.
She found herself straining to hear more, but the conversation ended abruptly, followed by the sound of a door closing.
Isabella stood and crossed to the window, pressing her palm against the cool glass. The city seemed so alive down there millions of people moving, laughing, loving while up here, she felt like a bird in a gilded cage.
Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, an uneasy feeling grew. She had stepped into Adrian Kane's world thinking she could keep her distance, that this arrangement was just about debts and appearances.
But tonight, staring out at the city, she realized something far more dangerous
This wasn't just his world.
It was his kingdom.
And she was trapped in it.