Annalise startled awake, her neck stiff from dozing off awkwardly on the bed. The door creaked open with a groan, and her eyes darted to the entrance just as a servant stepped inside, dressed in a crisp black uniform that nearly blended with the dark wood of her room.
"Master says get up and get ready," the servant muttered without looking her in the eye. "Mr. Caden will be having breakfast with us this morning."
Annalise blinked, trying to make sense of the words as they sank in. "What?!" she burst, sitting up fully now. Her heart thudded violently in her chest. He's here for breakfast? Her voice echoed in her mind like a scream.
She had hoped for at least a day or two of space before facing him again, not expecting the Valtore heir to show up at their doorstep like he owned the place. But of course, he acted like he did.
The servant left quickly, and Annalise turned slowly toward the bed, her eyes falling on the vial and dagger Aston had left. They glared back at her like cursed objects from a gothic nightmare. The golden glint of the dagger's handle reflected the morning sunlight that crept through the window, mocking her. Her fingers clenched into tight fists as she inhaled sharply.
No matter what, you survive. You survive and get your mother out, she reminded herself.
She dragged herself to the bathroom, each step heavy with dread. The water stung her cheeks as she splashed it on her face, as though trying to wash away the shame, the fear, the helplessness clinging to her skin. By the time she descended the stairs, the house already buzzed with voices and the clatter of silverware.
The dining room was large, suffocatingly grand, its chandeliers glittering like spiderwebs of diamonds. And at the head of the long mahogany table sat Caden Valtore, lounging like a king with a crown only he could see.
His white shirt was crisp and open at the collar, exposing just enough of his pale neck to hint at danger. His black eyes glittered with mischief and something darker, far more carnal. His legs were casually crossed, one arm draped over the back of the chair like he was posing for a magazine.
Arrogant bastard, Annalise thought bitterly as she took her seat, purposefully sitting far away from him.
Aston, Alessandra, and Wendy were already present, seated stiffly but attempting to appear relaxed.
"I'm a little surprised you decided to visit us today, Caden," Alexander said with a forced smile that didn't reach his eyes.
Caden didn't even look at him. His eyes stayed on Annalise, gleaming with amusement. "That's because I'm here to get my wife,to be" he said smoothly. "She'll be living with me now."
Annalise's jaw dropped. "What?! I mean, why should I live with you already? We're not even married yet!"
He cocked a brow and smirked.
Aston's fake grin slipped for a second before he recovered. "I'm not sure it's a good idea she leaves right now. We can pack her things and bring her to you. No need for the stress."
Caden chuckled darkly. "Stressful? No, Aston. What's stressful is pretending to tolerate this stale air. I want her now. And as for packing—" He stood, straightening his cuffs with casual grace. "I have a walk-in closet bigger than this house's west wing. She doesn't need to bring anything... unless you're trying to say there's something she owns that I can't provide."
Aston paled, then quickly forced a chuckle. "No, of course not. Of course not. You can... leave with her."
He looked at Annalise then, and his voice hardened. "Leave with Caden."
Annalise stared, hands balling under the table. Her instincts screamed don't go, but so did her mother's helpless face. "Why am I supposed to go with you when we aren't even married?"
Caden rose fully now, walking around the table toward her. Each of his steps was calculated and predatory, his polished shoes tapping lightly against the marbled floor.
"Because. I. Said. So," he said slowly, each word like silk-draped steel.
He reached her side and extended a hand, palm open. Annalise hesitated, but before she could move, Aston snapped, "You are leaving with Caden and it's final."
Her stomach twisted, heart pounding as Caden clasped her hand without permission and pulled her up. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, tight and unrelenting.
Her breath hitched, her eyes stinging—not from tears, but from the weight of what awaited her. Her mother. The poison. The dagger. The lies.
The sleek black car outside gleamed under the morning sun like a predator waiting to pounce. Caden opened the door and ushered her in before slipping beside her. No sooner had the door shut than the driver began moving.
Inside the car, silence pressed against her ears until Caden tossed a document at her. The papers fluttered into her lap.
"Read it. Sign it," he said, leaning back with all the smugness in the world. "That's your new bible."
Annalise narrowed her eyes and scanned the paper. Her jaw clenched the second she read the first clause: You agree to obey every word and command from your husband, without question or resistance.
"The fuck?! I can't do this!" she yelled.
Caden opened his eyes, slowly turning to look at her. "Did you just cuss at me?"
"Yes, I did!" she shot back.
He smirked, licking the corner of his lip , his tongue grazing his fangs slowly, deliberately. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. The first woman to curse me and still keep her tongue attached."
He leaned closer, the scent of him—spiced woods and danger—flooding her senses. "Don't object to anything, Annalise. Otherwise, I'll make your life hell."
His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. "Be grateful I'm not draining you dry this very second." She swallowed.
He reclined again like he hadn't just threatened her, arms folded, chin tilted up in arrogant satisfaction.
"Sign it. That's the only reason you're even in my car. That, and this fake marriage."
Annalise looked down at the contract. Her hands trembled, but she forced them to steady. She could play this game—for her mother. For herself.
She picked up the pen, and with a slow, shaky breath, signed her name.
Beside her, Caden smiled, victorious. "Welcome to the beginning of your twelve-month sentence, Mrs. Valtore-to-be. You'll be living with a me, sleeping beside me... and if you play nice, maybe I'll let you keep your soul."
The car continued on its way to the Valtore estate, but in that moment, Annalise knew—this wasn't just a contract.