Under the glow of crystal chandeliers, the wedding hall shimmered with light, brilliance spilling into every corner of the room. I clutched the ring my father had placed in my hand, my heart filled with dreams of the future. Everyone was waiting for this moment—my "happily ever after."
But happiness existed only in my imagination.
"I'm sorry… I can't marry you."
His voice echoed through the hall, sharp as a blade, slicing apart every hope I had clung to.
Whispers rippled through the guests. Their gazes burned into my back. The ring slipped from my fingers and struck the marble floor with a clear, merciless clang—announcing the end of my marriage before it had even begun.
Betrayal and humiliation tangled in my chest. I nearly collapsed, but I clenched my fists and lifted my head high. I would not let them see me cry.
Then I noticed him, standing in a shadowed corner no one seemed to pay attention to.
He wore a black suit, his face marked by a cold, unreadable smile. His eyes were fixed on me.
In that moment, I felt as though he could see straight through my soul.
The nightmare didn't end with the wedding.
The next morning, a contract appeared before me.
— "You have been bought."
The terms were clear:
I must always play the role of the "perfect partner."
I must follow all arrangements strictly, with no unauthorized changes.
Any violation would result in enormous penalties.
My chest tightened. This stranger… wanted to control me with a contract.
"You think this is just a business deal?" he said softly, his voice dangerous as he stepped closer. "No. This is your new life."
I lifted my chin, my gaze steady. "I am not a pawn you can move at will."
A faint, cold smile curved his lips. "I don't care what you think. Obedience is your only option."
My fists clenched as I swore silently:
If you think you can control me with a contract, I'll make you regret ever wanting to possess me.
Yet even as I made that vow, there was something magnetic about him—
dangerous, intoxicating, capable of burning away all reason.
I realized then that this contract was not merely a power play,
but a game of desire, revenge, and obsession—
—and I was already trapped inside it.
He leaned closer and whispered,
"Tomorrow… your real life begins—
under my control."
:
---
Morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, yet it couldn't chase away the chill that seemed to seep into my bones. My gaze fixed on the black folder on the glass table—that contract I couldn't escape. Every word, every clause, reminded me that, in a sense, I was already his possession.
I had barely slept. My thoughts were a tangled mess, replaying his words over and over, his icy smile, and the threat hidden behind it. He was more than a billionaire—he was a storm, and I had been thrown into its center.
A knock on the door made my heart leap and pulse quicken.
"Come in," I called, my voice calmer than I felt.
The door swung open, and he appeared. Perfectly tailored suit, sharp gaze, radiating a danger I couldn't ignore. He stepped inside, closing the door softly—but the sound hit like a gunshot.
"Good morning," he said, polite yet chilling. "I trust you've reviewed the contract."
I nodded, gripping the edge of the table. "I understand. I understand the rules."
A faint, cold smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Good. Obedience is the first step. But you must understand… if your heart refuses, the rules are meaningless."
My stomach churned. He wasn't just trying to control me with paper; he wanted me to feel his power.
I forced myself to straighten my spine. "I will follow the contract. But I will not—"
"Not what?" His voice cut through the air like ice. "Refuse me?"
I hesitated. Yes, I would refuse him—but not in the way he expected. Not in a way that left me vulnerable. I was not a weak woman to be toyed with.
Before I could answer, he walked past me, his gaze calm and penetrating as it swept across the room. The penthouse was immaculate—modern, luxurious, perfect to the point of suffocating. He stopped behind me, so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him.
"Tomorrow, you will make your first public appearance as my partner," he murmured, almost a whisper. "I expect nothing less than perfection."
I froze. A public event? Everyone would see me—trapped by this man, my life at his mercy with a single word.
"I—" I began, but he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear.
"Don't worry," he whispered, "you'll learn quickly. Resistance… can be… amusing."
My pulse spiked. Why did his presence unsettle me so? I had suffered humiliation and betrayal, and now I was bound by a contract to a man I barely knew—yet a part of me did not want to fight him.
I had to reclaim myself. I was strong, independent—I was not a toy.
"Listen," I said calmly, "I will follow the contract. But don't mistake that for submission. Beyond that, I belong to no one."
He tilted his head, studying me. "Good. I like women who think they can defy me. That way, breaking them… is far more satisfying."
I clenched my teeth. Satisfying? The word sent shivers down my spine, yet I refused to acknowledge it.
Finally, he stepped back and picked up the folder from the table. "Sign it," he said, placing the pen before me. "Let's begin."
I hesitated, my hand trembling slightly. Signing this document meant surrendering my life into his control. But refusal… was impossible. Not now, not ever.
The instant the pen touched the paper, a cold shiver ran through me. This was only the beginning.
The next few hours were a whirlwind: outfit fittings, etiquette lessons, rehearsal for the event. Every order he gave, every correction, was precise and commanding, infuriating yet impossible to ignore.
By evening, I was utterly exhausted. But he was not done. He appeared in my private study, his expression colder than before.
"Tomorrow, you face your first test," he said softly. "Failure will… be unpleasant."
I met his gaze, forcing myself not to show fear. "And if I succeed?"
A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. "Then perhaps I'll let you savor the illusion of freedom."
The room fell silent, tension so thick it was suffocating. I could feel a current passing between us, like a storm ready to break. I wanted to run, to scream—but my pride kept me there.
As I prepared to leave, he stepped closer, brushing his hand lightly against mine, and my heart raced uncontrollably.
"Sleep well tonight," he whispered, voice barely audible. "Tomorrow… everything changes."
I swallowed hard. I didn't know what he meant, but one thing was clear—my life no longer belonged to me.
Yet deep down, a dangerous part of me… craved more.
---
I lay in bed, the contract heavy on the nightstand. Then my phone buzzed with a message:
"Be ready at 8 a.m. Wear the dress I picked. Don't be late."
My stomach twisted. Another test… or something even more dangerous?
---
If you want, I can translate the next chapter in the same suspenseful, slow-burning tension style, keeping the psychological push-pull between them. Do you want me to do that?