The leather folder felt like it weighed a hundred pounds in Xavier's hand. He looked at the signature—his own name, scrawled in ink that was still wet. He had just sold a year of his life to the "Ice Queen" of the business world.
"Stand up, Xavier," Seraphina commanded. She didn't look at him; she was already busy tucking her diamond-encrusted phone into a designer handbag that probably cost more than his father's house. "The rain has stopped, and we have a schedule to keep. My driver is waiting downstairs."
Xavier stood, feeling the dampness of his faded jacket against his skin. He felt like a ghost in this room of gold and glass. "Where are we going? My family—"
"Your family's debt was cleared the second you pressed that pen to the paper," she interrupted, her voice as sharp as a razor. "My lawyers have already sent the wire transfer. From this moment on, your only concern is being the husband the world expects you to be. Follow me."
She didn't wait for him to respond. Her heels clicked with a rhythmic, predatory sound against the marble floor as she headed for her private elevator. Xavier followed, catching his reflection in the polished gold mirrors of the elevator car. He looked like a beggar trailing behind a queen.
When the doors opened at the ground floor, a sleek, midnight-black Rolls-Royce was idling under the glowing lights of the Vane Empire canopy. A chauffeur in a crisp suit hurried to open the door.
"Get in," Seraphina said, sliding into the back seat.
As the car pulled away into the damp streets of the city, the luxury inside was overwhelming. The seats were soft leather, and the air was perfectly chilled. Xavier looked out the window at the blurred lights of the city he used to call home. He was leaving his old life behind, traded for a year of secrets and a basement he was never allowed to enter.
"Tonight, you will stay in the East Wing," Seraphina murmured, her eyes fixed on the tablet in her lap. "My staff will bring you a new wardrobe. Burn that jacket you're wearing. I don't pay for failures, and I certainly don't stand next to them."
Xavier leaned back, his heart hammering against his ribs. He had the money to save his family, but as the gates of the Vane mansion appeared in the distance, he realized the truth. He wasn't a husband. He was a prisoner in a golden cage.