Chapter 2

I believed in fairytales. I believed in true love, like the one my parents had, and hoped to find that for myself someday. I knew my parents would have wanted that for me, not for me to be trapped in a loveless, forced marriage for my grandfather's sake.

With every silent minute in that car, I sensed my own dreams of the future shattering and being left behind.

The silent torture of an hour (which felt like an eternity) ended when the limousine pulled up before a house so immense it was a mansion. Housemaids and butlers stood at the entrance, awaiting us. Gabriel was out the door the instant the car stopped.

Two housemaids helped me from the car because of the size of my dress. I politely smiled at them.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Whitlock,” they giggled, like shy schoolgirls.

“Thank you,” I mumbled. When I looked up, Gabriel had already disappeared inside.

I sighed sadly, trying to hide my disappointment as I walked in behind him, head held high, taking in the extravagance of the polished floors, chandeliers, and perfectly arranged flowers. Some people had a home; Gabriel Whitlock had taken a page from a Vogue magazine and brought it to life. It was so beautiful. I hated it.

I saw Gabriel walk up the stairs. Shaking my head, I followed, while one of the housemaids carried my train.

At the top of the stairs, as I turned to follow him, he turned, hands crossed, looking at me with irritation. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m following you to our room.”

“Our room?” He looked as if he wanted to laugh. “You think we’re sharing a room?”

I blinked. “We’re not?”

“My room is at the end of this hallway. Yours is at the end of that one.” He pointed in the opposite direction.

The remaining shreds of hope for a cordial relationship died. “Good,” I pretended to be relieved, “I was dreading sharing a room.”

“Like I said to your grandfather, you’ll have no complaints.” The smile he offered was forced and sarcastic. “Luna will be with you at all times. She will escort you to your chamber.”

Escort? Chamber?

Was he royalty?

Nonetheless, I nodded.

“Oh, and…” he added, “I was hoping I could come to your room.” He paused, checked his watch, and looked up. “To talk. Thirty minutes.”

Again, I nodded.

As Gabriel turned and left, I let Luna guide me to my room. He wasn’t joking when he said my room was at the end of the hallway. I passed five other doors to reach mine.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” Luna said. “Just call for me.”

My eyebrows furrowed. “So you’ll just be standing outside?”

“Yes.”

“Doing what?”

“Waiting, Mrs. Whitlock.”

“Waiting for…what?”

“For you to call me.”

I wondered if she was joking, but her face remained impassive. “But…why?”

“So that you don’t feel the need to go out of your way to do anything yourself.”

“Like get water for myself from the kitchen?” I joked.

“Exactly,” she agreed.

I opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it again. “Thanks.” I entered my room, leaving her standing guard outside.

Everything in this house was strange. This room was larger than the apartment I’d struggled to pay rent for every month, but at least it was beautiful—like a showpiece.

It took me ten minutes to remove my wedding gown, and then I soaked in a hot bath. I stayed there a long time, scrubbing off the expensive makeup until the freckles they’d spent so much time covering were visible again.

I’d promised myself I wouldn’t dwell on my sadness once I was married; what was done was done. But I couldn’t help it. I knew many girls wouldn’t consider marrying a man as rich and handsome as Gabriel torture, but I did.

My mother came from a wealthy family in Seoul; my father was there on a scholarship. She knew he didn’t have much money, but she loved him and left her family for him. They were the epitome of love for me growing up, and I’m sure they’d still be deeply in love today if a car crash hadn’t taken them from me years ago.

I got my dark eyes, dark hair, and Asian features from her. I liked money as much as the next person, but I didn’t let it drive my life.

As soon as that thought crossed my mind, I felt like a hypocrite. I had married for money, after all.

When the bathroom steam felt suffocating, I got out, wrapping one towel around my body and another around my hair. My soul left my body when I opened the bathroom door and found my new husband sitting on the edge of my bed. His eyes darkened when he looked up, but he remained unfazed by my half-naked state.

“You’re late,” he commented. “It’s been forty-two minutes.”

I hadn’t even remembered he was coming. It took a moment to overcome my shock and glare at him. “Did nobody teach you to knock before entering a woman’s room?”

“Technically, you’re in my house. The room is mine.”

I rolled my eyes, clutching the towel. “Would you have even entered the bathroom if it was unlocked?”

Gabriel rose from the bed, unbuttoning his crisp suit jacket. Conveniently ignoring my question, he placed a black card on the bed.

“What is that?” I asked.

“It’s an Amex. No limit.”

I stared at him.

He looked irritated. “It’s for you.”

“I can take care of myself.” I’d married for money, yes, but so that his grandparents could cover my grandfather’s cancer treatment. I didn’t want anything from him, especially not that shiny black card with his name on it.

“Can you buy a Chanel bag to gift my mother for the lunch we’re having next week?”

“She’s your mother. You can buy it.”

“It’s my money. Technically, I am buying it,” he grumbled. “You’re just choosing it.”

I ignored him, just as he’d ignored me earlier. “If that’s all, I’d really like to change into something more appropriate than a towel.”

“You have a walk-in wardrobe, and you chose to get dressed in the bedroom?” He raised an eyebrow, looking at the outfit on my bed. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Or in your case, poor habits.”

“Excuse me!” My voice was loud as I stepped toward him. “I’ve been nothing but kind to you since we met! I was forced into this arrangement just as much as you were, and if you can’t—”

“Were you, though?” He cut me off.

“What?”

“Were you forced into it, Sofia?”

He was being a jerk. “You better believe I wasn’t dying to marry a man I didn’t know, let alone an arrogant prick like you!”

“You really want to pretend you’re sad about marrying into money?” He snickered. “A house bigger than you could ever dream of; housemaids at your beck and call; anything you could ever wish for, you can buy with this card.”

“You are unbelievable!” I shook my head, fighting back tears at his assumptions.

“I’m also a millionaire,” he clarified. “So use that damn card when you need something.”

“If there’s nothing else you want to say, leave,” I spat out.

He looked at me with a hatred I hadn’t earned before saying, “This arrangement will last for six months.”

“What arrangement?”

“Our marriage.”

There was a silent pause. “Oh.”

“After six months, I will divorce you and pay you a hefty sum so you can live comfortably on my money for the rest of your life,” Gabriel’s voice was bitter, full of a hatred I hadn’t earned. “You will use my card until then. You will carry my name with grace. You will live in my house and smile with me in public when necessary. But inside, you may do as you please.”

“And why would I do that for you?” I fumed. “I can live without your money, so why would I make public appearances with you or not embarrass you in front of the world? I owe you nothing.”

“You don’t want to play this game with me, freckles.” One corner of his lips curled into a lopsided smile. “You don’t want to know how low I can stoop to get what I want.”

I gasped. “Are you serious right now? Are you threatening me?”

“I am simply stating facts. When I threaten you, you’ll know.”

“Leave,” I seethed.

He stared at me.

“LEAVE!” I didn’t care if my voice echoed through the mansion and his staff heard us arguing. All I wanted was for him to leave.

“Six months,” he repeated, and left without another glance.

Once he was gone, I stared at the bland white walls of my new room. They stared back just as blankly. The moment he left, I crumbled to my knees, letting the tears and exhaustion I’d been holding back wash over me. My house might be the size of this room, but it was at least a home. Unlike this beautiful, gilded cage I was trapped in for the next six months.