The car purred like a sleeping beast as it carried Shani away from the only home she had ever known. She sat in the back seat, her mother's frail hand resting in hers. Elena leaned weakly against her shoulder, already exhausted from the short trip from the house to the vehicle.
Outside, the city blurred past—streetlights fading into skyscrapers, narrow alleys widening into smooth roads lined with steel and glass. The closer they drew to the Kingston estate, the farther Shani felt from the life she'd known.
"Are you cold, ma'am?" the driver asked politely, adjusting the air conditioning.
"I'm fine," Shani whispered. But her hand wouldn't stop trembling.
Marcus sat in the front, silent as ever, his sharp profile unreadable. He hadn't said much after the contract was signed—only that arrangements for Elena's transfer had been made. True to his word, an ambulance was already waiting at Kingston Medical Center. Her mother would be admitted under private care, the best doctors in the country at her service.
That was the only reason Shani hadn't begged the driver to turn around.
The gates of the Kingston estate loomed ahead, black iron stretching high into the night sky. They swung open with mechanical precision, revealing a long driveway lined with lanterns that cast golden pools of light across the stone path.
Shani's breath caught.
The mansion itself was something out of a dream—or a nightmare. Enormous pillars supported a sprawling façade of pale stone, every window glowing softly in the dark. Ivy climbed one wing of the house, blending old-world charm with ruthless wealth. It was beautiful, but cold—like a palace built for power, not for people.
The car stopped, and a butler opened her door. Shani stepped out, her simple shoes crunching against the gravel. She felt painfully out of place in her modest dress, as though the mansion itself might swallow her whole.
"Miss Williams," Marcus said briskly, "this will be your home for the next two years. Mr. Kingston is expecting you, believe me, everything will be fine."
Her stomach twisted. Mr. Kingston. Jay's father.
Inside, the mansion was silent except for the faint echo of her footsteps against polished marble floors. The air smelled faintly of lavender and old wood, expensive and sterile.
They entered a grand hall where a man stood waiting by the fireplace. His posture was rigid, his suit perfectly tailored, his expression carved from stone.
"Miss Williams," he said, his voice deep, controlled. "I am Richard Kingston."
Shani swallowed hard, lowering her gaze respectfully. "Mr. Kingston."
His sharp eyes studied her for a long moment, weighing, measuring. Finally, he nodded. "You're smaller and younger than I expected."
The words stung, though his tone was matter-of-fact, not cruel.
He turned, gesturing for her to follow. "Come. I'll show you where you'll be staying."
They climbed the grand staircase, each step making Shani feel as though she were ascending into a different world. He led her down a long corridor until they stopped at a heavy oak door.
Richard paused, his expression softening for the first time. "This is my son's room. From this moment on, it is also yours, and this house all of it, is yours now too."
Shani's breath caught. She hesitated before pushing the door open.
The room was dim, lit only by a lamp near the massive bed. And there, surrounded by machines that beeped steadily, lay Jay Kingston.
Her heart clenched.
He looked nothing like the confident cruel, wealthy young man the newspapers had shown before his accident. His once-strong frame seemed thinner, his skin pale against the crisp white sheets. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and though his eyes were closed, there was a strange stillness about him that felt both fragile and powerful.
Shani stepped closer, almost without realizing it. Her chest tightened as she watched his chest rise and fall with each shallow breath.
"This is the man you are married to now," Richard said flatly.
Shani glanced at him in shock. "Already? But I—"
"The paperwork has already been processed," Marcus interrupted smoothly. "From this day forward, you are Mrs. Shani Kingston. For all intents and purposes, you are his wife."
The words struck her like a physical blow. Mrs. Kingston.
She turned back to Jay, her throat dry. "He doesn't even know I exist ."
Richard's jaw tightened. "Then make him know you. Talk to him. Sit with him. Care for him. If my son has even a chance to return to this world, it will be because of you."
The weight of his command settled heavily on her shoulders.
As Richard and Marcus left, the room grew quiet again, broken only by the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.
Shani sank into the chair beside the bed, staring at the stranger who was now, legally, her husband.
She whispered softly, her voice trembling. "Hello, Jay. I guess… I'm your wife now, I'll be here everyday for you. And don't worry—I won't let you go through this alone."
The machine beeped steadily in reply, as if acknowledging her promise.
The Kingston mansion had grown quieter with the fall of night. Long hallways that earlier buzzed with staff and footsteps now echoed only with the sound of Shani's slippers brushing against polished marble. She carried a tray with a glass of water, her heart beating faster the closer she came to his room.
Jay's room.
She paused at the heavy oak door, her hand hovering over the handle. For a moment, she considered turning back to her guest room, climbing into bed, and hiding under the covers. But her stepfather's voice replayed in her head—This is your chance, Shani. Five million dollars. Your mother's future.
Taking a deep breath, she turned the handle and stepped inside.
The room was dim, lit only by a lamp in the corner. It was nothing like she expected. Not sterile like a hospital, but warm and masculine—dark wood furniture, leather chairs, and a wide bed where Jay Kingston lay motionless beneath crisp white sheets. Machines hummed softly beside him, their blinking lights marking the fragile thread that tied him to life.
Shani set the tray down on the bedside table and moved closer. For the first time, she allowed herself to really look at him.
He was handsome. Almost painfully so. Strong jawline, high cheekbones, thick lashes resting against skin too pale from months of stillness. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, but his body remained a prisoner to silence.
"Jay, I'm here waiting for you…" She whispered his name, testing how it felt on her tongue. Strange. Intimate. Dangerous.
She sat on the chair beside the bed, folding her arms as if to keep herself from shaking. "You don't know me. And honestly, I don't know you either I've heard a lot about you, how cruel you were, but guess what? I wanted to meet you so bad , imagining you being my man. But—" Her voice cracked, and she paused, gathering herself. "I'm here because I don't have a choice. My mother… she's sick. And your father thinks marrying you, pretending to be something I'm not, will solve everything."
The only reply was the steady beeping of the monitor.
Shani let out a shaky laugh, brushing hair from her face. "It sounds insane, doesn't it? Me, marrying a man who can't even hear me. A contract, a deal… nothing about it is real." She leaned closer, studying his still features. "And yet… here I am ."
She reached out, hesitant, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his hand. Warm. Alive. Something in her chest shifted at the contact.
"I don't know if you can hear me," she whispered. "But if you can, I want you to know… I'm not here for your money. I'm here because I promised I wouldn't let anyone go through this alone. Not even you, I'll always be here for you, even if it's longer then two years. I want to see you open your eyes so bad, It's insane. Isn't it. I don't know why I'm feeling strange. Something that I can explain. But, I'm waiting for you to wake up, so we can talk about it. And there's a lot I wanted to ask you long ago ."
Silence. But for the first time since entering, Shani felt something stir inside her—a strange pull, like the air itself shifted between them. Her heartbeat quickened, not from fear but from something she couldn't name.
She let her hand linger on his for a moment longer before pulling away, whispering softly into the dim room:
"Goodnight, Jay ."
As she rose and turned off the lamp, she swore she felt the faintest twitch of his fingers against hers.