The silence in the estate is deafening—thick with tension, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Shadows flicker across the marble floors, wrapping the space in quiet menace. Lia stands perfectly still, her back pressed to the cold stone wall, breath shallow, pulse racing.

Your presence fills the room like smoke—slow, suffocating, impossible to escape. Eyes dark, unyielding, you step closer, and she doesn’t move. Not even a flinch.

The air crackles between you. Every step you take is a threat. Every breath she draws is borrowed.

Your hand lifts—slow, deliberate—and brushes against her skin with a gentleness that feels like a lie. But your grip shifts, sharp and controlling, a silent reminder of who holds the power.

Lia’s chin lifts anyway.

Because this is the game now. A marriage built on ruin and lies. A vow made in blood and deception.

She doesn’t love you.

She survives you.

And only one of you will win.