Trapped in Luxury
Ivanna wasn't thrilled about getting married, not yet.
She wanted a little more time with her parents, a little more freedom before stepping into the role of someone's wife.
But Eugene York, with that disarming gentleness of his, assured the Sean family that he would bring her home often.
His consideration only deepened their affection for him.
To the Seans, Eugene was the son-in-law dreams were made of: courteous, impossibly patient, breathtakingly handsome, and a billionaire who owned several international businesses, including a massive gold mine.
He was, in every sense, too perfect.
And because he seemed too good to be true, they insisted on properly registering the marriage, to secure Ivanna's future and protect their precious daughter.
As days passed, their earlier fears, that Ivanna's difficult personality would drive him away, slowly faded.
Eugene handled her quirks with such grace that the Seans believed they had struck gold twice: a perfect match and a man patient enough to manage their daughter's excesses.
Everything unfolded flawlessly. The wedding was grand, elegant, and widely admired.
And when it was over, Eugene took his bride home.
He had told the Seans he lived in an extravagant mansion in a prestigious California estate.
But instead of flying her to California, he quietly rerouted her to a massive, secluded villa built like a castle... in Texas.
Ivanna noticed immediately.
Her brows shot up as she looked through the jet window, then at the servants, then back outside again.
"Why are we landing in Texas? Eugene said California. Someone explain, now," she demanded, her tone sharp enough to cut glass.
But no one answered her.
Not a word.
The stewardess avoided her gaze.
The servants busied themselves with luggage.
Every person around her suddenly acted like silence was their mother tongue.
Her irritation built quickly, but something felt…off. Strange. Eerily strange. And though she hated to admit it, a shiver of unease slid down her spine. So she swallowed her anger and sank quietly into her seat, letting the sorrow wash over her like cold rain.
Just like that, she was married.
Grandly, extravagantly, beautifully… yet she felt like merchandise.
A prized piece of meat displayed at a market, purchased by the highest bidder, packaged neatly, and shipped off to be consumed.
But when the car turned into the estate, her new home, her breath caught in her throat.
The villa was no ordinary mansion.
It rose from the ground like a grand stone castle.
The wrought-iron gates were masterpieces, carved with intricate patterns that shimmered under the fading sun.
Tall turrets climbed toward the sky, their stone walls glowing amber in the evening light. Rich banners fluttered from the towers, announcing the presence of something ancient, powerful, and majestic.
The cobblestone driveway curved through gardens bursting with vibrant colors, roses, dahlias, peonies, arranged as though by the hands of an artist. Towering old trees lined the path, their branches stretching upward like guardians of the heavens.
Even Ivanna, spoiled, pampered, notoriously hard to impress, couldn't stop the flicker of awe in her eyes.
It was magnificent.
It was overwhelming.
It was perfect.
And yet…
She couldn't shake the feeling that she was stepping not into a home, but into a beautifully decorated cage.
Approaching the main façade, Ivanna felt her breath hitch.
It was like stepping into a dream carved out of stone.
Towering walls of pale, finely cut granite rose before her, etched with delicate carvings, twining vines, mythical beasts, symbols she could not name, each stroke whispering of an era long buried yet impossibly grand.
Filigree work shimmered faintly along the arches, catching the dying sunlight like threads of trapped starlight.
Then came the doors.
Massive slabs of polished oak, so glossy she could see her reflection wavering upon them, banded with gilded iron and marked with a crest she didn't recognize. When they swung open, the soft groan of ancient hinges echoed like a welcome, or a warning.
The foyer inside unfolded like a world she wasn't prepared for.
Crystal chandeliers dripped from the vaulted ceilings, their facets scattering fractured rainbows across walls of marble and brass. Everything gleamed, too perfect, too extravagant, too unreal. Velvet draperies in deep jewel tones softened the sharpness, while embroidered silk tapestries told stories of wars, kingdoms, and victories she had never learned about.
Each step she took revealed more majesty.
When the steward led her up the grand staircase, wide enough for a royal procession, she felt swallowed whole by the grandeur.
The private chambers were another world entirely.
Canopied beds draped in silk and velvet towered like thrones.
Hand-carved furnishings bore jewels inlaid along their edges.
Treasures, antique vases, gilded mirrors, jade sculptures, foreign artifacts, filled the rooms with quiet, ancient regality.
Stepping toward the balcony, she was greeted by paradise.
Manicured lawns stretched out in rolling emerald waves. Sculpted hedges formed labyrinthine patterns. A shimmering infinity pool caught the sunlight, turning it into liquid diamonds. Beyond it, a stone terrace framed a panoramic view of the countryside, untouched, endless, free.
Then there was the garden.
A vast expanse of roses, every shade from blush to blood red, bloomed like a living tapestry. Their scent drifted on a soft breeze, sweet and intoxicating. For the first time since the wedding, Ivanna felt something loosen in her chest.
Peace, maybe. Awe, definitely.
This place…
It was a world built from fantasies.
But beneath that beauty lurked something else.
Military guards stood discreetly at strategic corners, a reminder that this castle wasn't just luxurious. It was fortified. Powerful.
Untouchable.
The maids moved swiftly, silently, their gazes lowered.
Ivanna's lips curved slightly, this was the perfect place to exercise control, to make her presence known. These maids looked exactly like the type she could discipline if ever she got bored or irritated.
They led her to her bedroom, spacious, breathtaking, tailored perfectly to her taste. Yet as she stepped inside, a sudden realization hit her.
She had not seen her husband.
Not once.
Not even for a fleeting moment.
Was this room for her alone? Or for both of them?
Would she have to share it with a stranger? Sleep beside a man whose face she barely remembered from that rushed, candlelit wedding?
The thought unsettled her, but she dismissed it with a flick of her perfectly manicured fingers.
A man who commanded a palace like this, who moved the world without even being visible, was clearly no ordinary man. She could afford to indulge him…a little.
Days passed like a dream.
Her meals were timely, and shockingly delicious, crafted precisely to her palate.
The maids were obedient, almost eerily perfect.
No one challenged her. No one irritated her.
She could roam freely. Lounge for hours. Explore every inch of her castle.
Everyone bowed when she passed, a sight that fed her vanity and soothed her temper.
Her gadgets, her chambers, her wardrobe, her freedom…it was blissful.
For the first time in her life, Ivanna felt her world was finally becoming what it should have always been.
Perfect.
Beautiful.
Entirely hers.
Until it wasn't.
A month slipped by, and a quiet discomfort began to bloom inside her, subtle at first, then unmistakable.
WHERE WAS HER HUSBAND?
Not once had she glimpsed him since the wedding night.
Not a shadow.
Not a word.
Not even the echo of his footsteps.
Worse still, she couldn't remember his face.
The wedding had been rushed, dimly lit, chaotic, nothing more than a blur of vows, signatures, and a man whose features dissolved from her memory like mist.
Now, that faint memory was gone entirely.
She didn't know her husband.
She didn't know where he was.
And she didn't know why he hadn't come to see her even once.
And for the first time since arriving…
Ivanna felt a quiet, creeping fear.
But eventually, Ivanna pushed the unsettling thoughts aside.
Why should she waste her energy worrying about a man she never wanted in the first place?
Who cares? she scoffed inwardly.
Still, the castle, magnificent as it was, began losing its shine.
What was the point of all this luxury when she had no one to flaunt it to?
No friends to worship her.
No parents to lavish her with exaggerated affection.
No one to admire her outfits, her tantrums, her superiority.
Boredom crept in like a slow-moving shadow.
One afternoon, after pacing her room for what felt like the hundredth time, Ivanna decided she had had enough. She would call her parents, complain bitterly, and demand answers. Surely they would fix whatever nonsense was happening.
But when she dialed their number, all she heard was a cold automated voice:
"This number is no longer in service."
She stared at the phone in disbelief.
That was impossible.
Her parents' number wasn't just active, it was permanent.
She tried again.
Then again.
Ten times.
Twenty.
The same dead response.
Her frustration spiked into unease.
Fine. If calls wouldn't go through, she'd message them online. She grabbed her laptop, typed furiously, and hit "send."
And in that exact second, the screen flickered, and the laptop died.
Dead. Completely unresponsive.
Ivanna froze.
Now she knew something was wrong.
Heart pounding, she stormed out of the room, the echo of her heels snapping sharply against the marble floor. A line of maids stood by the hallway wall, their hands folded neatly, eyes lowered, as though waiting to serve her.
Or monitor her.
"Hey!" Ivanna snapped, her voice slicing through the silence. "What's going on here? Where is Eugene? I need to speak to him right now. And why aren't the computers working?! Answer me!"
Nothing.
Not a twitch.
Not a whisper.
Not even a flicker of acknowledgement.
It hit her then, like icy water down her spine.
Since she had arrived, not a single person had spoken to her.
She hadn't noticed at first, why would she?
Talking to maids was beneath her.
They were background noise.
But now, their silence felt suffocating.
"I said ANSWER ME!" Ivanna screamed.
Still nothing.
Rage exploded inside her.
She stepped forward and slapped the nearest maid with everything she had.
The smack echoed sharply through the hall, and Ivanna's own palm stung from the impact, but the maid didn't even flinch. She simply continued staring straight ahead, as though Ivanna didn't exist.
A chill crawled up Ivanna's spine.
"What is WRONG with all of you?!" she shrieked. "Are you deaf? Are you stupid?!"
Her fury spiraled.
She grabbed the closest object, a heavy antique vase perched on a stand, and hurled it with all her strength at another maid.
The vase struck the woman's head with a sickening crack. Blood immediately streamed down her face, staining her uniform.
But even then…
the maid didn't react.
Didn't cry.
Didn't blink.
Didn't move.
Ivanna stumbled back, trembling with rage and terror. "This is insane," she muttered, breath hitching. "This place is insane!"
She spun around and stormed back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She grabbed her phone and dialed every number she could think of, friends, distant relatives, service centers, airlines.
Nothing worked.
Not one call connected.
Panic twisted into hysteria.
Her breathing turned shallow. Her hands shook. And then...
She snapped.
Ivanna tore through the room like a hurricane. She threw pillows, shattered perfume bottles, ripped down curtains. Books flew, vases shattered, the vanity toppled. A storm of destruction swallowed the once-perfect chamber.
By the time she stopped, chest heaving, hair wild and sticking to her damp cheeks…
…the room looked like a war zone.
And for the first time since arriving in the castle, Ivanna realized:
She wasn't bored.
She was trapped.