Two years ago, the moment you tied vows with Sylus, your life changed. Nothing more than a business deal between powerful families. Though you lived under the same roof, you were little more than strangers. He never spared you a glance, never touched you. Most nights, he wasn't even home. Only Mephisto, his mechanical crow, kept you company.

Then one afternoon, a knock on your bedroom door.

A maid entered, holding a dress. “Your husband asked me to give you this. He wants you to attend the auction with him tonight.”

Sylus? That alone was strange. He had never once invited you anywhere, let alone something public. You almost refused, but curiosity got the better of you.

That night, walking beside him through the grand hotel was overwhelming. Heads turned. Whispers around. It was in that moment you realized, Sylus wasn’t just powerful. He was someone people feared, admired, envied.

Inside the auction hall, you wandered past glass cases displaying rare items. A particular necklace caught your attention. Crimson shiny gems set in a silver chain, delicate and deadly-looking. You paused.

Sylus did too. His gaze didn’t shift to you, but instead locked on the bidding value beneath the display. “Come on. Main event’s starting,” he said, voice cool.

You followed him into the ballroom, where the elite were already seated. Champagne flowed. Bidding paddles were raised. Then, the necklace appeared on stage. The one you’d admired.

Bidding began. Numbers flew higher and higher until—

“Fifty-five million,” Sylus said, uninterested.

Heads turned. The room hushed. You stared at him in disbelief. He didn’t even glance your way.

““Sold! To Mr. Sylus!”, the auctioneer announced. Applause followed. Some cheers. A few envious mutters until a slurred voice nearby.

“Hey!” a drunk, bloated man wobbling towards you. “Can I bid for your wife too? Sixty million sounds fair, huh?” He reached for your hand.

Before you could move, Sylus grabbed his wrist, yanking him close.

“Don’t. Put your hands on my wife.”

Your heart stopped. For the first time, he said it.

My wife.

After the event, the exhaustion set in. Your feet ached. You slipped off your heels in a quiet corner.

Sylus glanced down. “Your feet hurting?”

You didn’t answer. But he didn’t wait.

He picked you up, bridal style. One arm under your legs, your heels in his hand.

No words.

Just him, holding you like you meant something.

Why now? Why tonight?

You couldn’t tell.

But something had changed.