Three days had passed since Ella stepped into the luxurious yet cold mansion of the Lucian family. Her life was now tightly bound to a helpless heir whom the entire upper class whispered was withdrawn and blind. The marble floors shone brightly, floor-length curtains hung neatly, and servants moved in silence. Every corner exuded a sense of alienation, yet in Ella's tragic life, this was the first time she felt a faint peace—even if this peace came from marrying a stranger to save her father's failing company.
She had long given up hope of warmth. After her mother passed away, her stepmother Mrs. Tan and stepsister Lina had drained every bit of kindness from her life. They ruthlessly forced her into this marriage, calling it a "favor," claiming it was mercy to marry off their unwanted daughter to a blind man. Behind her back, they plotted for Lina to marry a wealthy young master and seize everything her father had built. To them, Ella was nothing but a disposable tool, a sacrifice to be thrown away at any time for their gain.
Early that morning, sunlight filtered through sheer curtains, casting soft golden spots in the living room. Ella woke up as usual, skipped breakfast, and began tidying up, rearranging fresh flowers in the vase by the window. She dared not slack off for a moment, knowing her position was precarious. One wrong step, and she would be sent back to the miserable life she had barely escaped.
But peace never lasted long for her.
A sharp, ear-piercing roar suddenly shattered the quiet, coming from the kitchen. Ella's shoulders tensed, and her fingers clenched the rag in her hand. She knew that voice all too well—it was Mrs. Tan, who had followed her to the mansion under the pretense of helping her settle in. In truth, she only wanted to keep bullying Ella and remind her that she could never break free.
Ella walked slowly toward the kitchen, her heart pounding wildly. As soon as she reached the doorway, a glass crashed at her feet, shattering into tiny shards. Scalding water splashed onto her bare ankles, searing her skin, but she dared not make a sound.
Mrs. Tan stood by the counter, her face twisted with rage, staring at Ella with venomous eyes. "Useless thing! Do you really think you're a lady just because you married Lucian? You're still the worthless orphan I took in! Sleeping half the day and not lifting a finger in the kitchen—who do you think you are?"
Lina stood beside her mother, twirling her hair, a sneer on her lips as she looked Ella up and down with disdain. "Mother, don't waste your breath on her. She just got lucky, marrying a blind man who can't even see how ugly she is. She should be grateful we didn't throw her out on the street."
Ella lowered her head, staring at the broken glass on the floor, her nails digging into her palms as she held back tears. She had endured such humiliation and abuse for over a decade. At home, she lived worse than a servant, always submitting, never having anyone to stand up for her. She had no right to argue, only to nod silently in obedience.
"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll clean it up right away. I'll make dinner for the whole family tonight."
"You'd better," Mrs. Tan snapped, kicking a shard of glass toward Ella's feet. "If dinner is the slightest bit off, I'll go complain to the Lucians that you're unfit to be his wife and have them send you back. A blind man's wife should know her place—meek, quiet, useful. Don't you dare throw a tantrum."
With that, Mrs. Tan and Lina turned and left the kitchen, letting out cold, mocking laughs as they walked away. Ella froze in place, trembling uncontrollably. She slowly knelt down and reached for the broken glass. Her fingertip accidentally slid across a sharp edge, a small wound appearing at once, a bead of blood oozing out. She pressed her finger to her lips, holding back the pain, and quickly cleaned up the mess.
In the afternoon, Ella stayed alone in the kitchen preparing dinner. The mansion's kitchen was fully stocked with the finest ingredients, yet she still worked carefully, chopping and simmering at full speed. She did not notice the hot oil splattering from the frying pan until it was too late. Her right hand was scalded before she could react.
A sharp pain shot through her right hand, and she gasped, pulling it back quickly. A bright red burn mark blazed on her skin, the burning sensation throbbing relentlessly. Tears finally spilled down her cheeks. She was so tired—tired of endless abuse, tired of being alone and helpless, tired of living a life where no one cared if she lived or died.
She leaned against the counter, clutching her injured right hand, and memories from the night before flooded back. After the quiet wedding ceremony, Lucian had taken her hand into the bedroom. Even with his eyes covered, his steps were steady. He had not touched her, not forced her to do anything. He had only sat beside her and spoken in a low, gentle voice—a sentence that had stirred a strange warmth in her chest.
"You don't have to be afraid here. No one will hurt you."
At the time, she had thought it was just a polite remark, a meaningless comfort from a man trapped in the same marriage. But now, as the pain in her hand grew worse, those words echoed in her mind again and again, and she found herself strangely hoping he would appear.
Just then, the kitchen door gently opened.
Ella froze instantly, wiping away her tears quickly with her uninjured left hand, thinking Mrs. Tan had come back to pick on her. But when she looked up, she saw Lucian standing in the doorway, his tall figure outlined by the hallway light. He wore a simple black sweater, a thin white blindfold covering his eyes, his expression calm and unreadable.
His personal assistant Ethan stood nearby, ready to help him, but Lucian raised a hand to stop him. He stepped forward slowly, his steps surprisingly precise, as if he could clearly hear her suppressed sobs and smell the faint burnt oil in the air.
"Ella?" he called, his voice gentle, without a trace of impatience or annoyance.
Ella bit her lower lip, not wanting him to see her in such a miserable, vulnerable state. "I'm fine, Mr. Lucian. I just burned my hand by accident. It's only a small injury."
Lucian did not reply. He took another step forward, moving with unnerving accuracy, as if he could see every corner of the kitchen. He walked straight up to Ella, and before she could react, reached out and gently touched her injured right hand.
The moment his warm, calloused fingertips brushed the burn, Ella flinched instinctively, but he held her hand gently and did not let go. His thumb brushed lightly over the red mark, and his face darkened instantly, a faint flicker of anger crossing his features—anger not directed at Ella, but at whoever had hurt her.
"Who did this to you?" he asked, his voice dropping, cold and sharp, nothing like his usual gentle tone.
Ella stared at him, stunned. She had never heard him speak like this—firm, authoritative, exuding a powerful aura that made her almost forget he was supposed to be blind. "I hurt myself by accident. No one is to blame," she mumbled quietly, not wanting to cause trouble. She knew full well that if she told the truth, Mrs. Tan would only retaliate even worse.
Lucian clearly did not believe her. He squeezed her hand gently, his touch soft but firm. "Ethan," he said, still facing her, "bring the first-aid kit at once. And have the family doctor come immediately."
Ethan nodded at once and hurried out of the kitchen without hesitation. Hearing the commotion, Mrs. Tan rushed over with Lina, their faces pale and shocked. They had never seen Lucian like this. Everyone thought he was just a quiet, blind man who could not even take care of himself, let alone stand up for his new wife.
"Lucian, what are you doing?" Mrs. Tan forced a smile, trying to stay calm. "It's just a small burn. There's no need to make such a fuss. Ella is an adult; she can handle a little injury. She should learn to be more careful, after all—she's your wife now."
Lucian slowly turned toward where Mrs. Tan stood. His eyes were covered by the blindfold, but his gaze was so sharp that Mrs. Tan stepped back involuntarily, filled with fear. His voice was icy cold, the chill almost freezing the entire kitchen.
"My wife is not a servant, nor is she someone to be scolded or hurt here. If you cannot respect her, leave this mansion at once. My home does not welcome anyone who disrespects my wife."
The kitchen fell into complete silence. Mrs. Tan opened her mouth but could not say a word, her face flushing red and pale with embarrassment and anger. Lina stared at Lucian in disbelief, unable to believe the blind man she had mocked so freely had such a commanding presence.
Ella looked up at Lucian, her eyes wide, filled with shock. Her heart raced, and a strange warmth welled up in her chest, chasing away the pain and grievance from before. For the first time in her life, someone was standing up for her. For the first time, someone was protecting her.
Lucian turned back to her, his voice softening at once, as if the cold aura had never existed. "Don't move. The doctor will be here soon. I won't let you get hurt again."
He held her hand gently, led her to a nearby chair, and stayed quietly with her until Ethan returned with the first-aid kit. He personally applied the cool burn ointment for her, his movements slow and gentle, as if handling a precious treasure. Ella sat there, staring at his face, filled with confusion and curiosity.
Everything was wrong. A truly blind man could not move so precisely, could not find her position in the room so easily, could not locate her wound without being told. And that cold, authoritative aura he had shown moments ago—it was nothing like the helpless blind heir the world believed him to be.
Beneath that blindfold lay a secret. And Ella knew in her heart that this marriage between her and Lucian would never be an ordinary, peaceful contract marriage.