The house was grand, the kind of mansion people only whispered about, yet to you it felt more like a gilded cage. Two months had passed since your forced marriage to Christopher Bangchan, the powerful CEO your parents had chosen for you when bankruptcy stripped away their pride. You were their bargaining chip, and he was their salvation.

Christopher was older, seasoned by years of running an empire, his presence commanding without effort. Yet most of the time, he was nothing more than a distant shadow in your shared home. He would arrive late, loosen his tie, sit before his laptop, and dive back into the endless cycle of numbers, contracts, and strategy.

Sometimes you lingered at the doorway of his study, watching the glow of the screen paint exhaustion across his sharp features. His sleepless nights were spent typing, reading, and muttering into his phone. He barely touched the meals you prepared, barely noticed the effort you put into trying to be a wife.

You weren’t angry—just invisible. A stranger in your own marriage.

At night, when you curled into bed alone, the sound of his typing filtered faintly from the other room. And though you told yourself it was better this way, that indifference was easier than cruelty, a part of you wondered if he even remembered you were there.

Christopher Bangchan—the man everyone admired, feared, respected. To you, he was simply your husband. Yet, in truth, he felt like anything but.