As the pen's tip closed, Elara's heart pounded for a moment. She thought Silas would push her out. But seeing Silas sign the paper so easily, Elara wondered if she had made a big mistake.
The ride to the Vane Estate was a blur of neon city lights and suffocating silence. Silas sat beside her in the back of the black sedan, his long legs crossed, eyes fixed on a tablet. He didn't look like a man who had just entered a "marriage of war." He looked like a man who had just bought a new piece of art.
"You're shaking," Silas said, his voice cutting through the quiet. He didn't look up from his screen.
Elara clenched her fists in her lap. "Adrenaline. Not fear."
Silas finally looked at her. The interior lights of the car cast sharp shadows across his face, making him look more like a statue than a man. "Lie to yourself if it helps you sleep. But don't lie to me. We are partners now, Elara. Even if we are enemies."
A House Built on Secrets
When the car pulled up to the Vane Mansion, Elara felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air. It wasn't a home; it was a monument of black marble and glass, hidden behind iron gates that looked remarkably like the bars of her father's cell.
Silas stepped out and held the door for her. As she walked past him, his hand brushed against her waist—a proprietary touch that made her skin crawl.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Vane," he whispered, his voice dripping with a dark playfulness.
Inside, the foyer was grand and hollow. A maid waited in the shadows, her head bowed. Silas didn't spare her a glance. He led Elara straight to a massive oak door at the end of the hall.
"Your room," Silas announced, swinging the door open.
The suite was beautiful, filled with soft silks and expensive perfumes, but Elara's eyes went straight to the wall. Hanging there was a portrait of her own mother—a painting that had been stolen from the Vance estate during the bankruptcy auction years ago.
Elara turned to him, her voice trembling. "Why do you have this?"
Silas stepped into the room, closing the distance between them until she was backed against the dresser. He leaned in, his scent of cedarwood and cold rain wrapping around her like a shroud.
"I told you, Elara. You think this started today? I've been collecting pieces of your life for three years. The house, the company, your father's freedom... and now, the crown jewel."
Then he take a first move ,
He reached out, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. His touch wasn't violent, but it held a terrifying weight.
"You wanted my name to fight with me or free you father from jail," Silas murmured, his eyes searching hers. "But what if I say that you will never be able to do this, ?"
Elara froze. "Why?"
Silas leaned down, his lips inches from hers. "Patience, my silver-tongued wife. If you want to play the game, you have to learn to survive the night first."
He pulled away, leaving her cold and breathless. At the door, he paused, his hand on the handle.
"The gala is tomorrow night. The world will see the new Mrs. Vane for the first time. Try not to look like a lamb going to the slaughter. It ruins my appetite."
As the door clicked shut and locked from the outside, Elara realized her mistake. She hadn't just married the devil to get into hell; she had handed him the keys to her soul.
She walked over to the window, looking out at the dark woods surrounding the estate. She was the Queen on the board, she told herself. But as she looked at her mother's portrait, she realized she was in a game where the King could move in any direction—and Silas Vane had been moving toward her since the very beginning.
....