🌅 Morning at Z.Y Empire
The sun had barely risen, its first pale rays spilling through the tall windows of Zain Yan's mansion. The grand dining table was set with an elaborate spread of breakfast delicacies—fruits, pastries, eggs, steaming toast, and delicate juices—all arranged like a royal banquet.
Zain sat at the head of the table, motionless, his piercing gaze locked on the figure seated across from him. Anya. She looked like a living ghost, slumped in her chair, her arms resting limply on her knees. The white shirt she wore—a shirt that belonged to Zain—hung on her small frame, making her appear even more fragile, innocent, and helpless.
He picked up a bite of toast and slowly lifted it toward her.
"Eat this, Anya," he said softly, yet with an authority that brooked no refusal. "You haven't eaten anything since last night."
Anya's lips trembled as she turned her face away. Her eyes, dark with anger and resentment, glared at him.
"I don't want it!" she snapped. "Let me go home, Zain! You forced me to sign that contract. I will never accept this marriage!"
Zain's eyes cooled instantly. He placed the toast back on the plate, his movements calm, deliberate.
"Whether you accept it or not, you are my wife now. And your place is here… in my house… under my control."
🔥 The Breaking Point
Anya's patience shattered. With a sharp movement, she knocked the plates, glasses, and cutlery onto the floor. A cacophony of glass breaking and food splattering filled the room.
"I hate you!" she screamed, and sprinted upstairs toward Zain's room, slamming the door shut behind her.
Inside, she sank against the door, wrapping her arms around her knees, muffling her sobs. Her cries echoed down the mansion corridors like a haunting melody.
Suddenly, a series of sharp knocks thundered on the door.
"Open this door, Anya!" Zain's voice rumbled like distant thunder. "You're testing my patience. Open it, or I'll break it down myself!"
"Go away! Leave me alone!" she yelled.
"Aanya… this is the last time I'm telling you," Zain's voice deepened into a low, dangerous growl. "If I break this door, your brother and mother won't be spared. Do you really want me to call them right now and tell them where you are?"
Anya froze. Her heart raced. She knew Zain Yan did exactly what he said. With trembling hands, she unlocked the door, leaving it slightly ajar.
Zain pushed the door open in one swift motion and stepped inside. Anya tried to back away, but her back slammed against the wall. Zain planted both his hands firmly on the wall, boxing her in.
He leaned close, his face so near that she could feel the heat of his anger radiating onto her skin. With a firm grip, he lifted her chin to meet his eyes.
"Don't try to run from me again," he said, his gaze piercing hers. "I told you—every breath you take now is mine. Your rebellion excites me, Anya. Do you really want to see my true 'demonic' side?"
A single tear slid down her cheek, landing on Zain's hand. She choked out, "You're a wolf… you only know how to break people."
For a brief moment, Zain's grip softened. But only briefly. He had mastered controlling his emotions. His eyes softened just enough to caress the tear off her finger with the tip of his thumb. Then, leaning close to her ear, he whispered,
"Watch carefully, Anya… whether you break first, or melt in the fire of my love."
He pressed his cold lips to her forehead. The touch ignited a fire within Anya's very soul. She recoiled violently, pushing him across the room and landing in the opposite corner.
Zain didn't flinch. Until now, no one had dared push him. A slow, enigmatic smile crept across his lips.
"Interesting," he murmured.
🌸 A Royal Mask
Later, Zain sat on the lavish sofa in the living room, his mind replaying every moment—the way he forced Anya to sign the contract, the rebellion at the breakfast table, the sparks in her eyes.
He summoned his manager, his voice sharp and commanding.
"Order the finest fabrics from the world's most expensive designers. Prepare her… like a queen. Every diamond, every silk must radiate beauty worthy of a 'queen.'"
When Anya finally descended, she looked every bit a queen—but the light in her eyes had dimmed. She glanced at him nervously.
"Why… why am I being dressed like this? Where are we going?"
Zain adjusted his watch, not even looking at her.
"This is my wedding. And I want my parents to see what kind of bride their son has chosen. Remember, Anya… do not create a scene. You know what will happen if you do."
Anya met his eyes, and a rebellious plan sparked in her mind. Yes… I will go. And in front of everyone, I will expose this staged life you've trapped me in. Everyone will see how you've held me captive.
đźš— The Golden Cage
Zain gripped her hand tightly and began leading her toward the mansion gates. Anya planted her heels firmly on the ground, trying to resist the pull. Her long, heavy garments and high heels made it impossible to move swiftly, but her pride wouldn't let her yield.
At the Rolls-Royce parked outside, the black, shining car reflected the morning sunlight. The driver swiftly opened the rear door, waiting for his command. Zain gestured for Anya to enter—but she stood firm.
"Sit!" Zain commanded, his voice ice-cold.
"I can get in myself. No need to shove me," she said, raising her chin.
Anya finally slid into the car, leaning toward the window, avoiding his gaze. Zain seated himself beside her. The luxurious scent of his expensive cologne enveloped her, prickling her senses like a warning.
As the car sped along Beijing's streets, Zain's voice cut through the tense silence.
"Control your anger, Anya. You are to act the 'cheerful bride' in front of my parents. If you hesitate even for a second… the fees for your brother's college won't be transferred for even a moment."
Anya snapped her head toward him. Her eyes blazed.
"When will your threats end? Do you think money and power can buy anyone's soul?"
Zain's expression softened into that same enigmatic smile. He reached for her cheek, and she flinched.
"I'm not interested in buying your soul, Anya. I only want your presence. And as for the threats… they aren't threats—they are reality. The sooner you accept it, the safer it will be for you… and your family."
Outside, the city whizzed past the tinted windows. Tears, fury, and helplessness played across Anya's face. She knew she was leaving her golden cage and stepping into a grand hall to play the role of a bride… one who had been caged by a wolf.
🏰 Arrival at the Mansion
The car came to a stop in front of Zain's palatial mansion. Anya's heart raced. The grandeur of the estate, the sprawling gardens, and the ornate gates made it feel like a castle. Zain extended his hand, and Anya ignored it, stepping down on her own—making it clear she was not property, but a human being.
Her eyes widened at the sight of the massive mansion.
"This… this is like a palace!" she gasped.
Zain's cold gaze met hers.
"You wanted this, didn't you?" he said, gripping her hand tightly.
The grandeur outside didn't make her feel awe—it made her blood boil. Rows of servants lined the pathway, bowing in unison. Their faces reflected more fear than respect.
"Welcome, young mistress!" they said together.
Seeing the trembling servants, Anya whispered to herself, Even these poor people… this cruel man doesn't spare anyone. How terrified they must be.
Zain's senses were sharp; he immediately caught her muttered words.
"Stop whispering curses at me," he said.
Anya quickly masked her expression with innocence.
"I… I wasn't talking to you. You must have misunderstood," she replied, turning her head demurely.