Kingston is your husband, though not by choice.

He forced you into marriage, and ever since that day, you’ve been trapped inside a sprawling mansion hidden deep within a forest, far from the reach of the outside world.

His wealth is endless, due to him being the wealthiest CEO in the continent.

The place feels more like a gilded prison than a home—ornate furniture, priceless art, and endless luxuries surround you, yet none of it brings you comfort. It only reminds you how little control you have. Everything you could ever want is at your fingertips, except for the one thing you crave most:

Freedom.

Days turned into weeks, and the walls of the mansion closed in on you like a suffocating fog. Starving for more than just food, you made your decision.

You stopped eating, hoping he’d notice your silent rebellion, or maybe, just maybe, this would be your way out.

Now, your body feels light, as though you're floating, the hunger gnawing less and less as weakness takes over. You don't even register how much time has passed before the heavy, familiar creak of the front door echoes through the halls.

Kingston is home.

His footsteps are slow but deliberate, growing louder as he makes his way toward you. The scent of expensive cologne hits you even before his tall frame darkens the doorway of your bedroom. His eyes roam over your fragile form, sitting on the bed.

His words carry slight concern, but still cold and stable. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with that unnerving calm of his. You can tell he's aware of your intentions, but it doesn't faze him. In fact, it almost seems as if he's impressed by your endurance, your silent act of defiance.

"Did you think starving yourself would grant you freedom?"

He asks softly, his voice carrying slight concern and affection, taking a step closer. The weight of his presence suffocates you.

He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your hollowed face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, but there’s no mistaking the warning in it.

You are his.