The night after the confrontation in Leonard Lu's study stretched on endlessly for Emily. She sat by the window of her assigned bedroom, the heavy curtains drawn open just enough to let the city's faint glow seep inside. Her reflection on the glass looked pale, almost ghostlike. The wordless tension that had filled the air between her and Leonard earlier still pressed down on her chest like an invisible weight.
Marriage in name only. That was the deal. But even as she told herself this truth, the reality of it was far more complicated. Every glance Leonard threw her way carried a mixture of calculation and something else—something Emily dared not name. And behind his steely mask, she sensed an unspoken storm brewing.
She had just begun to drift into an uneasy sleep when the silence of the house was shattered.
A faint clinking noise echoed from the foyer downstairs. Emily's heart jumped. The Lu mansion was always quiet at night, guarded by security and maids who retreated to the servants' quarters after their duties. No one should be wandering about.
She slipped out of bed, her bare feet brushing against the cold wooden floor, and pulled a robe over her nightdress. For a moment, she hesitated—should she wake Leonard? But her pride stopped her. He had made it clear: she was not truly his wife, just a pawn in his family's intricate chess game. Why would he care about her unease?
Still, curiosity and a gnawing sense of danger drove her forward.
Emily padded down the grand staircase, careful not to let the steps creak. The foyer loomed in shadows, moonlight cutting across the marble tiles like shards of silver. The sound came again—soft, deliberate. Someone was there.
Her breath caught when she saw the figure.
A man stood by the entrance, tall and lean, his features half hidden beneath the brim of a hat. He wore a dark coat that seemed to swallow the faint light. But his presence was undeniable, commanding the space as if he belonged.
"Who are you?" Emily whispered, her voice trembling despite her attempt at firmness.
The man's head turned slowly, and the glint of his eyes beneath the shadow made her blood run cold.
"You must be Emily," he said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. "The new Mrs. Lu."
Emily froze. How did this stranger know her name? How did he get past the mansion's security?
"Answer me," she demanded, though her voice cracked. "What are you doing here?"
Instead of replying, the man smiled faintly, as though her fear amused him. Then he pulled something from his pocket—a silver lighter. With a flick, a flame danced briefly, illuminating his sharp features. He was handsome, dangerously so, but there was no warmth in his expression. Only menace.
Before Emily could retreat, footsteps thundered from the upper floor.
"Step away from her."
Leonard's voice, cold and lethal, sliced through the darkness.
He descended the stairs with the grace of a predator, his eyes locked on the intruder. Unlike Emily, Leonard wasn't in sleepwear. He wore a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, as though he had been awake and working late. A faint sheen of sweat suggested he had been training, not resting.
The stranger didn't flinch. "Leonard Lu," he drawled. "I was wondering when you'd show yourself."
Emily glanced between them, confusion mounting. They knew each other?
"Get out," Leonard ordered, his tone carrying the weight of command. "You have no place here."
The man chuckled softly, snapping the lighter shut. "Always so arrogant. You think your walls and guards can keep me out? Think again."
Emily felt a shiver crawl down her spine. Whoever this man was, he clearly wasn't just some intruder. His confidence, the way he addressed Leonard, hinted at a deeper history—one laced with animosity.
Leonard stepped forward, shielding Emily behind him without a second thought. The protective gesture startled her, stirring an unfamiliar warmth beneath her fear.
"Why are you here, Adrian?" Leonard asked, his voice dropping lower.
Adrian. The name etched itself into Emily's mind.
Adrian's smirk widened. "To remind you, old friend, that shadows don't disappear just because you choose to ignore them. And perhaps," his gaze flickered briefly toward Emily, "to see what kind of bride you've taken."
Emily stiffened under his scrutiny, but Leonard's stance grew sharper, as though he would strike at the slightest provocation.
"You've seen enough," Leonard said. "Leave."
For a heartbeat, the air vibrated with unspoken tension. Then Adrian tipped his hat and retreated toward the door, his voice carrying back to them like a whisper of smoke.
"This isn't over, Leonard. Not by a long shot."
The door clicked shut, leaving behind silence and the faint echo of his threat.
Emily clutched Leonard's arm unconsciously, only realizing it when he turned to her. His gaze softened—just slightly.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
She shook her head, unable to form words.
"Good," he said, though his jaw remained tight. "From now on, don't wander the house alone at night."
Emily's pride flared at his commanding tone. "I wasn't wandering. I heard something. What was I supposed to do? Pretend nothing happened?"
Leonard's eyes darkened, frustration flashing there. But instead of rebuking her, he exhaled slowly. "Next time, wake me. Understand?"
Emily swallowed, her heart still racing. "Who was he?"
Leonard's silence was telling. He didn't want to answer.
"An enemy," he finally said, his voice clipped. "That's all you need to know."
But Emily knew better. That man—Adrian—hadn't looked at her like a stranger. He had studied her, as though weighing her importance. And that terrified her more than anything.
The next morning, the household buzzed with unusual activity. Guards doubled their patrols, and Leonard gave terse instructions to his staff. Emily watched from the sidelines, feeling increasingly out of place.
She wanted answers, but Leonard was a fortress of secrets. And the more he pushed her away, the more determined she became to uncover the truth.
By noon, whispers filled the mansion. Servants exchanged nervous glances, and Emily overheard fragments of conversation: "the past…dangerous rival…why now?"
Her frustration boiled. How could she live in this gilded cage, threatened by shadows she didn't understand?
When she confronted Leonard again, he was in his study, phone pressed to his ear. His expression was grim, his words clipped.
"Yes… strengthen the perimeter. No one gets in without my clearance. …I don't care what it takes."
He ended the call and turned to find Emily standing at the doorway.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
She crossed her arms. "You can't keep me in the dark, Leonard. Who is Adrian? Why did he come here? What does he want with us?"
Leonard's expression hardened. "This isn't your concern."
Her temper flared. "Not my concern? He came into our home. He looked at me like I was some pawn in his game. Don't you dare tell me it's none of my business."
For a moment, Leonard just stared at her, his jaw tight. Then, with a sigh, he rubbed his temple.
"You're braver than I expected," he muttered.
Emily blinked, startled.
Leonard stood, his tall frame looming over her, though not in menace—rather in weary resignation. "Adrian is someone from my past. A rival who doesn't know when to quit. His presence here means things are about to get…complicated."
"Complicated how?" Emily pressed.
Leonard's eyes met hers, and for once, she saw the flicker of vulnerability beneath his steel. "He won't stop until he takes everything from me. And now," his gaze darkened, "that includes you."
Emily's breath caught.
For the first time, the reality of her position as Leonard's wife—contractual or not—hit her with full force. She wasn't just a spectator in his world. She was now part of the battlefield.
And somewhere deep inside, beneath her fear, a quiet determination began to grow.
If Adrian thought she would be an easy target, he was about to learn otherwise.