Kaia stood in front of the heavy mahogany door of the study.

She raised her hand and smoothed down the stray hairs at her temple. She forced her facial muscles to relax, locking her expression into a mask of quiet obedience.

She raised her knuckles and knocked twice. The sound was dull and heavy.

"Enter," Grandfather Hector's voice rasped from inside.

Kaia pushed the door open. The air inside hit her like a physical blow. It smelled of stale cigar smoke and decaying paper. Her throat instantly felt tight.

Hector sat behind his massive desk. He pulled off his reading glasses and tossed them onto a stack of files. His sharp, calculating eyes locked onto her.

Kaia walked to the edge of the desk. She held out the photocopy of the marriage certificate with both hands. Her posture was flawless.

Hector took the paper. His thumb rubbed over the black ink of Jaxson's signature. The deep wrinkles around his mouth loosened a fraction of an inch.

"You did the right thing," Hector said. "You made the necessary sacrifice for this family."

Kaia lowered her eyelashes. She stared at the edge of the desk.

"It was my duty," she recited mechanically.

Hector sighed. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk. He reached inside and pulled out a tarnished velvet photo frame. He pushed it across the polished wood, stopping right in front of Kaia.

Kaia's eyes dropped to the frame.

It was a picture of her parents.

Her pupils dilated. The air vanished from her lungs.

"If your parents were still alive," Hector said, his voice heavy with fake sentiment, "they would be incredibly proud to see you marry into the Wilson family today."

The words sliced straight through Kaia's chest.

Her breath hitched. A violent ringing started in her ears, drowning out the silence of the room.

The memory hit her like a physical crash. The blinding headlights. The sound of metal crushing metal. The rain washing the blood off the shattered windshield.

A sharp cramp twisted her stomach. Acid burned the back of her throat.

Kaia stumbled backward. Her heel caught on the thick Persian rug. Her arms flailed, and she barely kept herself from falling.

Hector didn't notice. He kept talking. "They expected great things from you, Kaia. They died on the way to see you succeed. Now, you've finally paid them back."

The guilt crushed her ribs. She couldn't breathe. Her hands flew to the strap of her bag, her fingers digging into the leather until her nails threatened to break through.

"I-" Kaia gasped. Her voice was broken, shaking uncontrollably. "I have a script. An emergency at the studio. I have to edit it."

Hector stopped talking. He frowned, his eyes narrowing at her sudden loss of composure. "Kaia, what is wrong with-"

She didn't let him finish. She spun around. Her hands scrambled for the brass doorknob. She ripped the door open and bolted into the hallway.

She ran.

She sprinted down the corridor, her vision blurring. A maid carrying a silver tray stepped out of a side room. Kaia slammed into her shoulder. Hot tea splashed across the floor, shattering the porcelain cups. "Sorry," Kaia gasped, the word tearing from her throat automatically, a fleeting stab of guilt piercing through her blinding terror. But the panic in her veins propelled her forward. Kaia didn't stop. She didn't even look back.

She reached her bedroom and shoved the door open. She slammed it shut behind her and threw the deadbolt.

Her legs gave out. She slid down the solid wood of the door, hitting the floor hard.

She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. Her shoulders shook violently. She gasped for air, but her lungs refused to expand. The room was spinning. The smell of blood and rain was everywhere.

On the bed, her phone vibrated.

The screen lit up the dim room. Jaxson flashed across the glass.

Kaia lifted her head. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. She stared at the phone for ten agonizing seconds. Her arms felt like lead. She couldn't move.

The vibrating stopped.

A second later, the screen lit up again. A text message notification popped up.

Ethan will be there in thirty minutes. Pack your things. -JW

Kaia stared at the words. The short, commanding sentence acted like a bucket of ice water over her head. It snapped the panic in half.

She dragged her hands down her face. She pushed herself up from the floor, her legs trembling.

She walked into the bathroom and turned on the cold tap. She splashed the freezing water over her face, gasping at the shock. She looked in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her skin was the color of chalk.

She gripped the edges of the sink. Her breathing slowly leveled out. Her eyes hardened.

Kaia walked out of the bathroom. She dropped to her knees and pulled her silver suitcase from under the bed. She unzipped it with a violent jerk.

She moved mechanically. Shirts. Pants. Toiletries. She shoved them into the suitcase without folding them.

She zipped the bag shut. She wasn't spending another second in this house. She was going to her new husband. She was going to use his name as a shield.

Kaia gripped the handle of her silver suitcase. Her knuckles were white. She placed her other hand on the brass doorknob of her bedroom and took one last, deep breath.

She twisted the knob.

The hallway was dead silent. From the floor below, the faint, annoying sound of a reality TV show echoed from the living room, mixed with Caron and Aniya's laughter.

Kaia lifted the suitcase off the ground. She didn't want the wheels rolling on the hardwood. She walked down the stairs, her steps light and fast.

She reached the center of the grand foyer.

Aniya walked out of the kitchen, holding a glass of orange juice. She froze.

Aniya's eyes dropped to the suitcase in Kaia's hand. A nasty, triumphant smirk spread across her face.

"Getting kicked out already?" Aniya mocked, her voice dripping with fake pity. "Couldn't even last one day?"

Kaia kept her eyes locked on the front door. She didn't slow down. She walked right past Aniya, her pace accelerating.

Aniya's smile vanished. She hated being ignored. She lunged forward, stepping directly in front of the heavy oak doors. She reached out, her manicured fingers clawing toward the handle of Kaia's suitcase.

"I'm talking to you!" Aniya snapped.

Just as Aniya's fingers brushed the plastic handle, the massive front door swung open from the outside.

A blast of freezing wind and rain whipped into the foyer.

Ethan Cole stood on the threshold. He wore a razor-sharp black suit. He held a massive black umbrella over his head, the rain bouncing violently off the waterproof fabric.

Ethan's cold, deadpan eyes locked onto Aniya's outstretched hand.

Aniya gasped. She yanked her hand back as if she had touched a hot stove. She took a clumsy step backward.

Ethan stepped into the foyer. He gave a slight, perfectly measured bow.

"Mrs. Wilson," Ethan said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the foyer like a blade.

Aniya's face turned a mottled shade of purple. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The jealousy burned so hot in her eyes it was almost physical.

Kaia looked at Ethan. The tight knot in her chest instantly loosened. Her shoulders dropped an inch.

Ethan stepped forward. He reached out and took the suitcase from Kaia's hand. He didn't ask. He simply took it, his grip firm and absolute.

He turned around and tilted the massive black umbrella. He held it directly over Kaia's head, shielding her completely. He escorted her down the stone steps, treating Aniya like she was completely invisible.

A black Maybach sat idling in the pouring rain. Ethan opened the rear door.

Kaia slid onto the plush leather seat. The door slammed shut, instantly cutting off the howling wind and the toxic air of the Miranda estate.

Ethan loaded the suitcase into the trunk. He climbed into the driver's seat and put the car in gear.

The Maybach glided smoothly through the iron gates. Kaia turned her head. She looked at the sprawling mansion fading into the rain. She let out a long, shaky exhale.

Soft classical music played through the car's speakers. Ethan reached forward and adjusted the climate control. Warm air blew over Kaia's freezing legs, melting the chill from her bones.

Ethan glanced at the rearview mirror. He reached into the center console and handed a bottle of room-temperature Evian water to the back.

"Thank you," Kaia whispered. Her throat felt like sandpaper. She twisted the cap off and took a small sip.

"Mr. Wilson is still in his meetings," Ethan said, his eyes back on the road. "He instructed me to take you to The Haven Estate to settle in."

Kaia lowered the water bottle. Her eyebrows pulled together. The Haven Estate. It was the most exclusive, hyper-private residential enclave in New York.

"Is that where he usually lives?" Kaia asked.

Ethan offered a polite smile in the mirror. "No, ma'am. That is the new residence he prepared specifically for your marriage. Mr. Wilson oversaw all the design details himself."

Kaia's stomach did a strange flip. Of course he did, she stared at the back of Ethan's head, her mind instantly rationalizing the anomaly. A man like Jaxson Wilson would control every variable, down to the very walls of the gilded cage he was putting her in. It wasn't personal; it was just thorough. She had assumed Jaxson would just throw her into one of his empty luxury penthouses.

The rain lashed against the windows, blurring the neon lights of the city. Kaia leaned back against the headrest. She closed her eyes. For the first time all day, her heart rate slowed to a normal rhythm.

An hour later, the Maybach turned down a hidden, tree-lined avenue. Massive steel security gates parted silently.

The car pulled up a circular driveway and stopped in front of a breathtaking modern mansion. It was a masterpiece of glass, steel, and natural stone.

Ethan got out and opened her door.

"We are here, Mrs. Wilson," he said.

Kaia stepped out of the Maybach. Her heels clicked against the damp stone pavers. She tilted her head back, staring up at the towering glass facade of The Haven Estate.

Ethan walked past her. He tapped a code into the digital keypad next to the door. A soft chime sounded, and the heavy walnut door swung open automatically.

Kaia followed him inside. The foyer was massive, with ceilings soaring twenty feet high. A cascading crystal chandelier cast a warm, golden glow over the space.

A woman in a spotless uniform stood near the entrance.

"Welcome home, Mrs. Wilson. I am Mrs. Holloway," the housekeeper said, bowing her head respectfully.

Mrs. Holloway stepped forward and gently took Kaia's damp shawl. Her eyes were warm, devoid of the calculating judgment Kaia was used to from the Miranda staff.

Ethan handed the suitcase to another maid. He turned to Kaia.

"Ma'am, Mr. Wilson said you have full reign of the house. Please feel free to look around," Ethan said. He gave a brief nod and walked out, the front door clicking shut behind him.

Kaia walked forward. Her shoes sank into the thick wool rug. She stepped down into the sunken living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a staggering view of the New York skyline.

Her eyes caught something in the corner of the room. A large, illuminated architectural model sat on a custom pedestal.

Kaia walked over to it. It was a perfect, scale replica of The Haven Estate.

Ethan had walked back in holding a tablet. He saw her looking at it.

"Mr. Wilson designed the initial blueprints himself," Ethan said, tapping his screen. "He holds a dual degree in architecture from MIT."

Kaia blinked. She turned to look at Ethan. Jaxson Wilson, the ruthless Wall Street predator, was an architect?

She pointed to a specific section of the model. A beautiful glass sunroom extended out into the manicured gardens. "Did he design this part too?"

Ethan smiled. "Yes. Mr. Wilson knows you are a screenwriter and that you often work late into the night. He added the sunroom specifically for you. He said the natural light there would be perfect for your inspiration."

Kaia's heart slammed against her ribs. A hot, tight sensation bloomed in her chest.

She immediately dug her fingernails into her palms. Stop it, she told herself. It's just PR. He's building the perfect set for the perfect fake marriage.

Mrs. Holloway gestured toward the private elevator. "If you'd like to see the living quarters, ma'am?"

Kaia nodded. They rode the elevator to the second floor.

The doors slid open to a wide hallway lined with plush carpeting. At the far end stood a set of double carved wooden doors.

Mrs. Holloway pushed them open. "The master suite. Mr. Wilson's belongings are already in the dressing room."

Kaia stepped inside. The room was cavernous. A massive King-size bed dominated the center, covered in dark gray silk sheets.

Kaia walked toward the en-suite bathroom. She stopped in the doorway. The marble vanity held only one set of toiletries-men's. The air in the room was thick with the scent of cedar and mint. Jaxson's scent.

It was a purely male territory.

Kaia's breathing turned shallow. The walls suddenly felt like they were closing in on her. Her chest tightened with a sudden, overwhelming panic.

She turned around. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, rubbing her collarbones in a defensive posture.

"Are there other guest rooms on this floor?" Kaia asked. Her voice was slightly pitched.

Mrs. Holloway blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Yes, ma'am. Down the other hall. But Mr. Wilson instructed that you would be staying in the master suite."

Kaia bit the inside of her cheek. The metallic taste of blood grounded her.

"I am a very light sleeper," Kaia said, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't want to disturb Mr. Wilson. I'll take a guest room."

Mrs. Holloway looked distressed. "Ma'am, I really must ask Mr. Wilson before making that kind of change."

Kaia didn't want to make the woman's job harder. She forced a tight smile. "It's fine. I'll call him and tell him myself."

Mrs. Holloway looked relieved. She led Kaia down the opposite hallway and opened the door to a warm, beige-toned guest suite.

Kaia immediately told the maid to bring her suitcase inside. She started unpacking her clothes, shoving them into the empty closet.

Night fell. The house grew completely silent.

Kaia sat on the edge of the guest bed. She stared at her phone screen. Her thumb hovered over Jaxson's name in her contacts. Her stomach churned with anxiety. She had to make the call.