Morning arrived way too quickly.
Ivy woke before the alarm, her body tense, her mind replaying the night over and over again. The memory of Adrian standing in her doorway—hesitant, conflicted—lingered like a bruise she couldn't stop touching. His almost-touch. His restraint. The way his eyes had looked at her like she was both a risk and a refuge.
She sat up slowly, pressing her feet to the cold floor.
This changes nothing, she told herself.
It can't, trying hard to believe her own words.
Yet her chest tightened with the lie.
Downstairs, the house was already awake. Soft footsteps echoed, doors opening and closing, the distant murmur of staff beginning their day. Ivy dressed deliberately this time, choosing simplicity over armor—a cream blouse, fitted trousers, low heels. She wanted to feel like herself, not a role she was playing.
She found Adrian in the kitchen.
He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, dark hair slightly rumpled, staring into a cup of coffee like it held answers. The sight of him—unguarded, human—caught her off guard.
"Good morning," she said softly.
He looked up, eyes flicking to her face, then away. "Morning."
The air between them was different. Not tense exactly. But fragile.
They ate in near silence, the clink of cutlery too loud, every unspoken word hovering between them. Ivy noticed how he barely touched his food, how his jaw tightened whenever she shifted.
Finally, she spoke. "About last night—"
"We shouldn't discuss it," Adrian said quickly.
Her lips pressed together. "So we are going to pretend it didn't happen?"
"Yes," he replied. "That's the safest."
"For you or me?" she asked.
His gaze snapped to hers. "For you."
Ivy exhaled slowly. "You don't get to decide that all alone."
Before he could answer, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening.
"I have to take this."
He stepped away, voice low and clipped as he spoke. Ivy caught fragments—board, evaluation, timeline. Each word tightened the knot in her stomach.
When he returned, his face was closed off again.
"I have a meeting this evening," he said. "A family dinner."
Her heart sank. "With Lucian?"
"Yes."
Ivy hesitated. "Do you want me there?"
Adrian studied her for a moment. "They'll expect it."
That wasn't an answer.
---
The Blackwood estate glowed with understated opulence as night fell. Ivy stepped out of the car, smoothing her dress, forcing her shoulders back. The house was alive with voices, laughter that felt rehearsed, too sharp to be genuine.
Inside, the family gathered like predators circling a shared food, or perhaps secrets.
Lucian greeted them with his usual polished smile. "Adrian. Ivy. How lovely of you to join us."
"Cut the performance." Adrian said coolly.
Lucian chuckled. "Still blunt as ever. I suppose that's why you've always been my favorite nephew."
Ivy felt the tension spike instantly.
Dinner was a battlefield disguised as civility. Conversations skimmed the surface—business updates, polite inquiries—before slipping into something sharper.
"So," one of the aunts said, eyeing Ivy with thinly veiled curiosity, "how are you settling into married life?"
Ivy smiled tightly. "Wel, it's been… quite educational."
Lucian raised his glass. "Marriage has a way of revealing truths."
Adrian's hand brushed Ivy's knee beneath the table—a warning or a reassurance, she wasn't sure.
"And your health?" Lucian asked casually. "You look well."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "I'm fine."
"Good," Lucian replied. "Because the board is eager for results. Stability. Proof."
Ivy's appetite vanished that moment.
"Proof of what?" she asked.
Lucian turned to her, eyes gleaming. "That this union serves its purpose."
The silence that followed was heavy.
Adrian stood abruptly. "This conversation is over."
Lucian leaned back, unbothered. "For now."
---
Later, Ivy found herself alone on the terrace, the night air cool against her skin. The city lights stretched endlessly beyond the estate, beautiful and distant.
"You handled that well," Adrian said behind her.
She didn't turn. "They don't see me as a person."
"They don't see anyone as a person," he replied.
She faced him then. "How long have you lived like this?"
"Too long."
The honesty in his voice startled her.
"Adrian," she said quietly, "what aren't you telling me?"
He hesitated, conflict etched across his features. "There are medical evaluations scheduled. Invasive ones."
"And if you don't pass?"
"I lose everything."
Her chest tightened. "And me?"
His gaze dropped. "You're part of the condition."
Anger flared. "So I'm proof. Evidence. Not a wife."
"That's not—" He stopped, exhaling. "That's how it started. Not how it feels."
The admission hung between them, raw and dangerous.
"I don't want to be another thing they control," Ivy said.
"I don't want you to be," Adrian replied. "But I can't promise safety."
She laughed softly. "I stopped expecting safety a long time ago."
Something shifted then—an unspoken agreement, fragile but real.
---
The call came the next morning.
Ivy was halfway through breakfast when Adrian's phone rang. He listened, expression hardening with each passing second.
"They've moved the evaluation," he said when he hung up. "Tomorrow."
Her heart skipped. "That's soon."
"They want to pressure me."
"And you?"
"I don't know if I'm ready."
She stood, crossing the room to him. "You don't have to do this alone."
His eyes searched hers. "You shouldn't be this involved."
"Too late," she replied.
Later that day, Ivy received a message from an unknown number.
If you care about Adrian Blackwood, you'll meet me.
A time. A location.
Her pulse quickened.
---
The café was quiet, tucked away from the city's chaos. Ivy arrived early, scanning the room. When the woman approached, Ivy recognized her immediately.
"Elena," the woman said, extending a hand. "Adrian's former fiancée."
The word hit like a slap.
"I didn't know he was engaged," Ivy said carefully.
"He was," Elena replied. "Before everything fell apart."
They sat in silence for a moment before Elena spoke again. "You're in danger."
Ivy stiffened. "Explain."
"Elaborate medical conditions," Elena said bitterly. "Contracts. Control. I walked away before they could destroy me."
"Why tell me this?"
"Because you're stronger than I was," Elena said. "And because Adrian doesn't deserve to be trapped forever."
Ivy swallowed hard. "Do you still love him?"
Elena smiled sadly. "Yes. But love isn't enough."
---
That night, Ivy confronted Adrian.
"You were engaged," she said quietly.
His face drained of color. "She spoke to you."
"Yes."
He ran a hand through his hair. "It ended because I wouldn't give them what they wanted."
"And what was that?"
"Complete control."
Ivy stepped closer. "And me?"
"You weren't supposed to matter," he admitted. "But you do."
The truth settled heavy and warm in her chest.
Before she could respond, his phone buzzed again. He read the message, expression darkening.
"They know," he said. "About Elena. About you meeting her."
Fear crawled up Ivy's spine. "What happens now?"
Adrian looked at her, resolve hardening. "Now, they escalate."
The house felt smaller, the walls closing in.
Somewhere in the distance, a storm rolled in, thunder echoing like a warning.
Ivy realized then that this was no longer just a contract or a marriage of convenience.
It was a war.
And whether she wanted it or not, she was standing beside Adrian Blackwood at the center of it.