The Wife shall reside at the Graves Estate full-time, maintaining her presence as evidence of marital stability.
The roar of the engine on the Vale estate shattered the silence in an instant, and through the windows, Syrena saw a black car glide to a stop in the circular driveway, its polished body gleaming against the morning sunlight.
Her breath caught as a gentleman got out of the driver's seat and rang her doorbell.
Their butler answered the door, "State your business here, sir?" he asked.
"I am here to escort Miss Vale or the new Mrs.Graves to the estate her husband is expecting her at ten in the morning."
Her breath caught; it was all happening so fast. Luckily, she had packed everything into her suitcase and bags last night.
"Finally," Mrs.Vale said rising from the settee with impatience.
"Go on, girl. Do not keep him waiting. Do you know what he is worth?" Her eyes flashed towards Syrena sharp and expectant.
"A lot," Mr. Vale muttered, swirling his whiskey in a glass at breakfast. His lips curled into a thin smile. "We're about to lose everything—unless you play your part."
Syrena's stomach churned with the nerves of entering into his world. She clutched the handle of her large suitcase and marched straight to the door, as every nerve in her body began to scream at her to run in the opposite direction.
Elianna's voice came to her then, "Darling," she said, appearing at her side, dressed in an orange sundress. "Don't look at them." She cast the Vales a withering glance before looping her arm through Syrena's. "Look at me."
Syrena's eyes met hers, trembling.
"You're not being dragged to your doom," Elianna murmured low, her voice for Syrena alone. "You're being delivered to your stage. That car isn't a coffin—it's a throne waiting to be claimed. Walk into that mansion like you belong there, and soon enough, even Alexander Graves will believe it."
Behind them, Mrs. Vale clapped her hands once, impatient. "Enough dawdling! Go, Syrena. Make us proud and save us from disgrace."
The words sliced her open, but she lifted her chin, pulling strength from Elianna's presence beside her. The driver stepped forward to take her bag, and the car door opened to her and in she went.
Elianna whispered to her then, "Play this role so well, no one will ever doubt you again."
As the door shut behind her and the car rolled away from the Vale mansion, she pressed her hand against her chest, praying that she wasn't heading towards an uncertain doom.
The black car came to a stop in front of the main entrance of the Graves estate. The mansion rose before Syrena like a regal palace with an impenetrable fortress, destined to be her residence for the remainder of her life.
She shuddered at the thought of just how long she would last in his world. "Long enough to see my family out of debt, I hope," she whispered to herself.
She smoothed her red dress and clutched her white handbag tighter, the hairs on her arms and legs standing on end as the driver opened her door.
The butler, maids, menservants and the housekeeper stood in a formation, their faces soft and warm instead of the cold suspicion she had thought she would receive.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Graves," the head butler said, bowing low.
The words struck like a blade. She wasn't Mrs. Graves—not truly. Yet hearing them spoken aloud almost made it all seem so real.
Her heels clicked against the marble steps, and when she crossed the threshold, a wave of nervous smiles and polite bows followed her. A maid pressed a small bouquet of red roses into her hands, another offered to take her bag, and for a fleeting moment, Syrena felt as though she belonged.
Almost.
Her phone buzzed sharply in her purse. She stepped inside and answered, her stomach already tightening.
"Syrena," her mother's voice hissed through the line. "You've moved in?"
"Yes," Syrena whispered, glancing at the curious staff.
"Good. Then don't waste time. You know what's at stake. The creditors won't wait forever, and neither will we. Secure him, darling. Speed things up. A man like Alexander Graves doesn't linger—make him choose us before it's too late."
Her throat tightened. "Mother—"
But the line went dead, leaving her with nothing but the echo of her parents' desperation. She slipped the phone back into her purse, pulse racing. The warm welcome of the staff suddenly felt like another illusion she didn't deserve.
She had barely set her clutch down on the marble console when a woman's voice, smooth and biting, cut through the air.
"So, you're the one."
Syrena turned. Standing in the archway was a tall woman with curly blonde hair, in a sleek black pencil dress, carrying a clipboard, her crimson lips curved into a smile. She walked forward with the grace of someone who believed she owned the place.
"Marissa Lane," she said, extending a manicured hand. "Mr. Graves's executive assistant. I run his schedule, his business…" Her eyes gleamed as she added, "and occasionally, his nights."
The words landed like shards of glass ready to pierce her.
Syrena's stomach twisted, but she clasped the hand anyway, steady, cool. "Syrena Graves," she replied, forcing confidence into her voice. "I run his days now and most likely his nights very soon." She said with a small smile.
For the briefest moment, Marissa's smirk faltered. Then she leaned closer, her perfume sharp and expensive.
"Don't get comfortable," she whispered. "You're a signature on paper. I'm the one he trusts."
Before Syrena could retort, Alexander's voice cut across the hall.
"Marissa, that is enough."
The assistant straightened her back instantly, her polite mask sliding back into place. "Of course, Mr. Graves," she said smoothly. "I was only welcoming your new bride."
His gray eyes flicked to Marissa, hard as steel then back to her.
Marissa inclined her head demurely, but as she swept past, her hand brushed Alexander's arm in a gesture far too intimate. Syrena's chest burned at the sight of it, her pulse spiking with something she refused to name.
When Marissa disappeared down the corridor, Syrena turned to him, searching his face for answers. But Alexander was already walking away, his voice saying.
"Tomorrow, you'll be fitted for the gala. Marissa will not be handling it."
His tone was final, leaving no room for argument, no space for her unspoken questions.
Syrena followed in silence, her fists curled at her sides. She had moved into his mansion, signed her name to this life, stepped into his world and now every step seemed to reveal new ghosts, rivals, and secrets.
Later alone in her own bedroom, Syrena sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the city through the windows. Her chest ached with the weight of her parents' demands, Marissa's venom, and Alexander's coldness.
Her thoughts were interrupted as her phone lit up again. This time, Elianna's name flashed across the screen. With trembling fingers, Syrena answered.
"Well, darling?" Elianna's voice chimed, warm and amused. "How's the cage?"
Syrena let out a shaky laugh. "Cold. Crowded. And full of wolves."
Elianna's tone softened. "And yet, you're still standing. That's what matters. Don't let them see you cower. You carry yourself well, remember? Not like you're in chains."
Syrena blinked back the sudden rush of tears. "Marissa, his assistant.....she practically told me I'm just paper. That he trusts her, not me."
"Jealous women always talk loudest," Elianna scoffed. "If she's so secure, why waste her breath on you? Darling, you've already rattled her. That's power. Use it."
For the first time since entering the estate, Syrena felt her chest loosen. Like she could breathe easy again.
"You really think I can do this?" she whispered.
"I don't think," Elianna said firmly. "I know. You're not just playing the heiress anymore, Syrena. You are her. So hold your head high. Tomorrow, you'll walk into that gala like you own the room and Alexander Graves will never look anywhere else."
A faint smile curved Syrena's lips as she clutched the phone tighter. "Thank you, Elianna."
"Always," her friend murmured. "Now rest and freshen up. Queens don't lose over pawns."
The call ended, leaving Syrena in silence once more, this time she was determined that the walls of her new cage would not break her.