The penthouse was undeniably luxurious.
Floor-to-ceiling glass wrapped around the living space,revealing the city spread out below like a living map of power and movement marble floors reflected the soft glow of recessed lighting.Every surface was polished,curated,expensive furniture sat in perfect alignment,untouched and impersonal,like it had been arranged for inspection rather than comfort.
It was the kind of place magazines wrote about.
And the kind of place no one truly lived in.
Ethan stepped inside first,moving his suit jacket with swiftly,already loosening as though today's events had required nothing more than patience.He didn't look back to check if I was following.
"Leave your shoes there,"he said, nodding toward the entrance without turning.
I slipped them off quietly and followed him in,my bare feet meeting the cold marble.The doors closed behind us with a soft click that echoed too loudly in the silence.
The silence here wasn't awkward.
It was intentional.
"This arrangement works only if there's clarity,"Ethan said,stopping near the living room.His tone was calm,measured,as if he were explaining terms to a client."So listen carefully."
I straightened without realizing it.
"There are no emotions involved,"he continued,"No expectations beyond what is required publicly.You will attend events when necessary,you will answer questions the way I instruct."
He turned slightly,finally facing me.
"You will not speak to the press unless approved,you will not make independent decisions that affect my name."
My name.
The phrase settled heavily in my chest.
"You will be provided with everything you need," he went on."Accommodation,security,transportation,allowance."
I waited for the pause.
"In return," he said,"I expect co-operation".
The word was quiet,precise and unforgiving.
My fingers curled slowly at my sides."And if I don't co-operate?"
He studied me then—not with anger,not with surprise,but with interest.
"This marriage exists because it benefits us both," he said evenly."But don't mistake necessity for equality."
The message was clear enough.
He gestured down the hallway "Your room is on the left,mine is on the right always locked."
I nodded once.
"No entering my space,"he added "No touching or assumptions."
A quiet laugh escaped me before I could stop it "Trust me I'm not confused about what this is."
His gaze lingered on my face for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
"Good" he said."Confusion leads to complications."
Then he turned and walked away.
That was it.
No welcome,no hesitation,no explanation beyond what was required.
I stood alone in the vast living room, surrounded by glass and silence,feeling smaller than I had in the courthouse and in my entire life.
My room was immaculate.
The bed was perfectly made,untouched. The closet was empty except for neatly spaced hangers,no personal items,no warmth...Just space waiting to be temporarily occupied.
I sat on the edge of the bed and exhaled slowly,my hands trembling despite my effort to stay composed.
This wasn't a marriage.
It was isolation.
Dinner had been left for me on the kitchen counter—covered,labeled... I ate alone at the long dining table,surrounded by empty chairs that emphasized the size of the room and my isolation within it.
I didn't hear Ethan once.
That night,sleep came in fragments...every sound intensified—the hum of electricity,the faint whistle of wind against glass,the distant buzz of traffic far below.I was deeply aware that behind a locked door,my husband existed like a presence I wasn't meant to acknowledge.
Morning arrived without comfort.
I showered,dressed,and stepped into the hallway,still half-expecting the place to feel unfamiliar__ it didn't change.It remained cold,and indifferent to my presence.
The smell of coffee reached me before I saw him.
Ethan stood in the kitchen,fully dressed,tie perfectly knotted,posture composed the faint domesticity of the scene felt misleading ....he wasn't relaxed.He was ready.
"There's a driver waiting,"he said without looking up."We'll leave shortly."
"We?" I asked.
He glanced at me then,it was brief and assessing."You'll be taken elsewherere.
"For what?"
"A public appearance."
My stomach tightened."Already?"
"Yes."
No explanation followed.
He poured coffee into a second cup and slid it across the counter toward me."Drink it."
I hesitated before picking it up.
"You're expected to be presentable"he added."Alert."
The implication was clear.
"I thought today was for adjustment,"I said carefully.
"Adjustment comes later,"he replied.
"Today is about control."
The word settled like a weight.
He finally faced me fully, his expression unreadable."There will be people watching. You will follow instructions you ont improvise."
"And if I make a mistake?"I asked quietly.
His gaze didn't soften.
"You won't,"he said."Mistakes cost money. And I don't pay twice."
Silence stretched between us.
"This marriage exists for one reason" he continued.
"When the year ends,so does whatever illusion this is...don't confuse closeness with permission".
I nodded,my throat tight.
He picked up his briefcase,already finished with the conversation."Finish your coffee,We leave in ten minutes."
Then he walked out.
The sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment,leaving me standing alone in a kitchen that suddenly felt even colder than before.
I stared at the untouched cup in my hands.
On paper,I was his wife.
In reality,I had just entered a contract where emotions weren't merely unwanted—
They were a liability.