The next morning, the penthouse was unnervingly quiet.
Isabella woke to sunlight spilling across the floor, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond the glass walls. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was until the events of yesterday came flooding back.
The wedding.The cold reception.The guest room.
She pushed herself out of bed, tying the silk robe around her waist. The air smelled faintly of fresh coffee, and the sound of low voices drifted from the kitchen.
Following the scent, she found Adrian at the breakfast bar, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit, his tie already perfectly in place. Across from him stood Marcus De Luca, the broad-shouldered bodyguard she had seen yesterday. Marcus was murmuring something in a tone too low to catch, but when Isabella entered, both men paused.
Adrian's dark eyes swept over her from head to toe, unreadable. "You're awake."
She hesitated, glancing between them. "Good morning."
Marcus gave a polite nod before excusing himself, disappearing down the hall.
Adrian sipped his coffee, then set the cup down with a quiet clink. "We need to talk."
Something in his voice made her pulse skip.
"About what?" she asked cautiously, taking a seat across from him.
His gaze sharpened, like steel catching the light. "About rules."
Her brows knit. "Rules?"
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the counter. "This arrangement works only if you understand your place. You're free to live here, spend my money, enjoy the privileges of being Mrs. Kane" His tone dripped with a mix of sarcasm and control. "but you will stay out of my business. Completely."
She bristled. "Your business?"
"You'll know it when you see it," he said flatly. "And when you do, you'll walk the other way. No questions. No interference."
Her lips parted, outrage bubbling up. "And if I don't?"
His expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened in a way that made the room feel colder. "Then you won't like what happens next."
For a long moment, they stared at each other, the air between them taut like a drawn bowstring.
Isabella forced herself to look away, her nails digging into her palm. He was warning her, yes but underneath, she sensed something else. A wall. A locked door he would never let her open.
And she hated it.
Adrian stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "Marcus will take you wherever you want to go today. Stay within the city. And remember what I said."
With that, he left, the door closing behind him with a decisive click.
Isabella sat in silence, her coffee untouched, her mind racing.
She had promised herself she wouldn't get involved. That she'd endure this marriage until she could find a way out.
But now… she wasn't sure she could ignore the shadows in Adrian Kane's world.
Not when they were already starting to pull her in.
The click of the door echoed through the penthouse like the last note of a song sharp, final, and leaving only silence behind.
Isabella sat there for a moment, her fingers curling around the edge of the marble counter. She wasn't sure whether she was angry, offended, or… intrigued.
In her twenty-two years of life, no one had ever spoken to her like that not her father, not the men who used to court her, not even the loan sharks who had once cornered her in a back alley with threats.
But Adrian Kane had just laid down the law as if she were a child trespassing in an adult's game.
And that bothered her more than she wanted to admit.
She stood, pacing toward the massive windows. The sun was higher now, spilling molten light over Manhattan. From up here, the streets looked like thin veins in a living organism—cars pulsing along them, people scattering like ants. Life moving on, completely unaware of the cage she had just stepped into.
Her eyes flicked to the reflection in the glass. Her silk robe hung loosely around her frame, her hair still mussed from sleep, but her face… her face looked older than it had yesterday. Tired, but also sharper.
Maybe this was what a single night in Adrian Kane's world did to a person it hardened the edges.
The sound of approaching footsteps drew her attention. Marcus reappeared, holding a small envelope.
"From Mr. Kane," he said simply, placing it on the counter before stepping back. His posture was straight, his expression impassive, but his gaze lingered on her for just a second longer than necessary.
She slid the envelope open, pulling out a sleek black card the kind with no name, no numbers on the front, just a faint embossed logo.
A Platinum account. Unlimited credit.
There was also a note in Adrian's precise handwriting:
Buy whatever you need. Consider it part of the arrangement.
She stared at the card, her emotions tangled. Was this generosity? Or control disguised as kindness?
"I don't need this," she murmured, almost to herself.
Marcus tilted his head. "It's not really about what you need, Mrs. Kane. It's about expectations."
Her eyes snapped to his. "And what exactly does he expect?"
Marcus's lips curved not into a smile, but into something that hinted at private knowledge. "That you play your role. Nothing more, nothing less."
Later that morning, she showered and dressed in a pale blue wrap dress from one of the garment bags Adrian's staff had delivered. She hated to admit it, but the fabric felt like a whisper against her skin, and the fit was perfect. The heels matched, and so did the handbag that came with it.
Everything in her life now seemed to fit perfectly.
Too perfectly.
Marcus drove her into the city in a black SUV with tinted windows. As the car glided through traffic, she caught glimpses of her old life the narrow bookstore she used to visit, the bakery where her father would buy almond croissants on Sundays.
The streets were the same, but she was different now.
"Anywhere in particular?" Marcus asked, his deep voice breaking her reverie.
"I just want to walk," she said. "Somewhere… normal."
He didn't argue. Instead, he parked near a quiet block in SoHo, trailing a discreet distance behind her as she wandered past boutiques and cafés. She felt the stares men glancing at her, women assessing her dress—but she kept moving, trying to remember what it felt like to be invisible.
It was strange. Only a day ago, she was just Isabella Moretti, a woman scrambling to keep her father alive and their debts from swallowing them whole. Now she was Mrs. Adrian Kane, a name that apparently carried weight in this city… and danger.
She couldn't decide which identity was heavier to carry.
By the time she returned to the penthouse, Adrian was already home.
He was seated in the living room, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, a glass of whiskey in hand. The skyline burned gold behind him as the sun dipped low.
"You went out," he said, not looking at her but rather at the ice swirling in his glass.
"You told me I could," she replied, setting her shopping bag down on the console.
His gaze finally met hers, sharp and assessing. "And Marcus stayed with you the entire time?"
"Yes," she said, frowning. "What is this, an interrogation?"
"It's called precaution," he said evenly. "There are people who would hurt you just to get to me. Some who might use you as leverage. And some who… wouldn't bother with leverage."
The weight in his voice made her skin prickle.
"Why?" she asked quietly.
He took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. "Because in my world, everyone has a price. And sometimes, that price is paid in blood."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
She crossed her arms, trying to hide the unease curling in her stomach. "And what if I don't want to be part of your world?"
His jaw tightened. "You already are."
The statement landed like a stone in the room, final and inarguable.
Later that night, Isabella found herself wandering toward the closed door at the end of the hall the one Adrian had told her to stay away from.
Her fingers hovered over the handle, her curiosity warring with the warning still echoing in her head. She could almost hear his voice: Stay out of my office.
But the door was locked.
She stepped back, her pulse quickening, realizing that whatever secrets Adrian kept behind it were not just about business.
They were about survival.
And if she wasn't careful, she might end up paying the price he had just hinted at.