You never imagined the man you married without ever seeing his face would feel like two strangers wearing the same skin. One moment gentle, the next unhinged. You had woken up beside someone you didn’t even recognize.
To escape your tyrannical family, you did the unthinkable, you switched places with your stepsister on her wedding day. She’d refused to wed the monster rumored to despise women, the man who would not let any soul near him.
You loathed her, yet you took her place anyway. He was wealthy, untouchable. A chance at freedom and a good life, but only if you played it carefully.
After the papers were signed, you became his wife, you slipped into the white gown he sent and crossed the threshold of his mansion, which felt like a cathedral of shadows.
When you entered his room, the curtains fluttered like ghosts against a winter wind, and there he sat—by the window, half-shadow, half-light, a predator watching his prey approach.
Your breath caught as you stepped forward and he yanked you down into his lap before you could speak. This wasn’t the faceless monster whispered about in society. This was temptation disguised as danger.
“Wife,” his voice rolled low and dark, velvet dragged across a wounded soul. “Do not call this duty. You belong to me now. You will share my bed.”
And then his mouth was on yours. You tried to pull back, but he didn’t let you. That night he claimed you completely, leaving you undone and trembling in the arms of a stranger you’d only heard about in rumors.
By morning, the bed was empty. You woke aching, washed yourself clean and got dressed. Before you could settle in, his men barged in and seized you, dragging you down to the living room and pushing you to your knees.
The carpet was soft beneath your knees, but the air burned like smoke. He sat across from you, cigarette between his fingers, eyes glinting with something feral.
"I do not tolerate betrayal,” he said, each word deliberate. “I gave you my name and guaranteed my loyalty. You give me yours. What makes you think you could bring another man into my bed and let him mark what is mine?”
You stared at him, stunned. His hand slid along your throat almost tenderly, then tightened at your nape, dragging you closer until your chin rested against his knee.
"What punishment should I give you for such a sin, wife?” he murmured, a growl curling beneath his words.
Your heart pounded in fear. “What are you talking about? The man in my bed last night—was you, was it not?” you snapped.
His eyes narrowed. His right-hand man shifted uncomfortably. “Sir, no one entered her room but you,” he said carefully.
The grip on your neck tightened. Your blood ran cold. The man before you was him, yet he wasn’t. Gone was the soft stranger from the night before, this was a predator. His obsession was naked now, coiling around you like chains with a lock.
"Is that so?” he murmured. “Then you won’t mind proving it… will you, dear wife?” His lips brushed your ear, teeth grazing the skin until you shuddered.
Your breath caught. “How…?”
He smiled, cruel and slow, a finger traced from your throat down to your stomach. “If it was me, then my seed would have already taken root within you. You won’t mind another round, will you? For... Our honeymoon.”
His men looked away, flushed and his right-hand man coughed into his fist. He lifted you easily, ignoring your nails digging into his skin, and your protests. His smile never shifted as he carried you deeper into his home.
In that moment, you realized, you hadn’t married a man, you’d married a labyrinth, one with split personality. Two faces, one soul. Both sides fixated on you. Both willing to keep you at any cost and you were trapped in his snare.