Chapter 1

Paris

"Daydreaming, my love?" A cold voice whispered in my ear, the warm tickle of his breath sending a shiver down my spine. I stirred slowly, a small smile playing on my lips as I remained half-asleep, unaware of where I was or whose voice it was. But the next moment, reality hit me like a tidal wave. The scorching pain of hot iron grazing my skin jolted me awake, a scream tearing from my throat. "Ah!" I cried out, clutching my burning hand as tears stung my eyes. I straightened abruptly, realizing I had dozed off while leaning against the kitchen counter. Through tear-filled eyes, I looked ahead. Standing there, as if he owned my suffering, was the reason for all my pain. My husband. My nightmare. Stevenson Bale.

In the twenty days since our marriage, he hadn't missed a single chance to remind me that he could, and would, dismantle my life piece by piece. Every day with him made me believe death would be kinder than this existence. And he made sure that belief seeped into every corner of my soul. "Are you hurt, wifey?" His voice dripped with mockery as he stepped closer, his cold eyes locking with mine. For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something softer in his gaze, and it confused me. Stevenson, with softness for me? The thought was almost laughable. His stare lingered on me, as if he'd forgotten why he was here or why he'd burned my hand in the first place. I felt suffocated under the weight of his gaze. Lowering my eyes, I whispered through clenched teeth, "No, sir." I bit the inside of my cheek, swallowing every ounce of anger and pain. Losing control wasn't an option. Stevenson said nothing. He turned and walked away, his silence more suffocating than his words. The moment he left, I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. It felt as though the air in the room had been sucked out while he was there. All I wanted was to escape his presence, to run far away from this hell. But I couldn't—not yet. Not until I had the proof I needed to save my brother. Tears streamed down my face as my brother's image flashed before my eyes. I missed him. I missed my mother. I missed home. I wanted to curl into their arms and pretend this nightmare wasn't real. But it was. And I couldn't stop now, not when my family's future was on the line. "No," I whispered to myself, wiping my tears. Crying would only earn me another punishment. Stevenson despised tears. The last time, my punishment had been to sit in his study for an hour, enduring his cold presence and mocking silence. This time, I feared it could be worse. I was enduring all of this for my brother. His life was on the line, and I had made a deal with Stevenson to save him. The price was my freedom, my happiness—my marriage. If I broke the deal or violated any of his rules, my family would be destroyed. Standing in the kitchen, I felt trapped, paralyzed by the thought of facing him again. It was Sunday—a day that should have offered peace. Instead, it brought the constant threat of Stevenson, who sat in the living room, working as if he hadn't just torn me apart moments ago. "Can I help you in any way?" The words slipped out before I could stop myself. I winced, regretting the lapse. "Please don't tell him I said anything," I quickly added to the maid. She nodded silently, her understanding clear in her cautious demeanor. Not wanting to provoke him, I stayed in the kitchen all afternoon. By the time evening rolled around, I finally dared to leave the kitchen, but only when I was certain Stevenson had retreated to his study. I returned to the tiny room beneath the stairs, the one he'd designated for me despite my status as his wife. It was humiliating, but a small part of me was grateful. Sharing his bedroom would've been unbearable—a step too far. If that had happened, I wasn't sure I'd still be alive. As I finished eating the simple meal I'd prepared, a sharp knock startled me. Opening the door, I found a maid standing there. "Sir has called for you," she said curtly before hurrying away. My eyes flicked to the clock. 11:20 PM. The lateness of the hour sent a chill down my spine. Taking a deep breath, I made my way to his bedroom. Each step felt heavier than the last as dread coiled in my stomach. My palms were damp with sweat by the time I reached his door. Before I could knock, his voice cut through the silence. "Come in." I pushed the door open hesitantly, my gaze instinctively lowering to the floor. He was seated on the sofa, surrounded by files, his piercing eyes locking onto me the moment I entered. The tension in the room was suffocating. I focused on the tiles beneath my feet, unable to meet his gaze. "Tomorrow," he said, his tone as cold as the man himself. "Yes, sir," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "Sharp at 5 PM," he continued without looking up from his laptop. "Okay, sir." "Leave." I didn't dare linger. As I walked down the corridor, the sound of my anklets echoed softly, blending with the rapid beating of my heart. For the first time in weeks, a faint smile touched my lips. Tomorrow, I would meet my family—my brother, my mother, and Bradley. Bradley, my boyfriend. He didn't even know that I was no longer his girlfriend—that I was now someone else's wife. He deserved to know the truth. Bradley wasn't just my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—but also my best friend, the one person who had always been my anchor. The mere thought of him made my chest tighten with guilt. He was away for training, blissfully unaware of the storm that had upended my life. He'd been planning our marriage for when he returned, imagining a future together, while here I was—already married. But it wasn't that I felt I had betrayed him. From the very beginning, he knew where I stood. I didn't love him, not in the way he wanted me to. He had proposed to me countless times over three long years, and each time, I'd said no. But he stayed—patient, unwavering, always there. Two years ago, when he proposed again, I finally gave in. I didn't say yes because my feelings had changed. I said yes because I couldn't bear to hurt him anymore. He had wanted me as more than a friend, while I had only ever seen him as my closest confidant. But I convinced myself to give it a chance, hoping that perhaps love would grow from our friendship. Bradley had been so certain it would. But deep down, I knew the truth. My heart would never change. Even so, I was ready to marry him. Bradley was my safe haven, my comfort zone—the one place I could escape to when the world felt too heavy. I thought that being with him would be enough, that his love would fill the void in my heart. Now, that same heart burned with guilt. I had broken his dreams, shattered the future he'd so carefully planned for us. I wasn't his girlfriend anymore. I couldn't marry him. I couldn't give him the life he deserved—all because of one man. Stevenson. Tomorrow, I would tell Bradley everything. How my life had turned into a living hell. How Stevenson Bale had become my nightmare.