The grand city of Veridien was a mosaic of marble spires and shadowed alleyways, where men like Vice President Tanner Alden strolled through polished halls of power while the less fortunate sang for coins beneath cracked lampposts. Sam was young for his station—brilliant, polished, and burdened by legacy. The weight of his last name, his political rank, and his lineage bore down on every decision he made. The Council whispered. The press speculated. “A man of his status must take a proper wife,” they said. “He must marry into status.”

But Sam had never been a man moved solely by expectation.

That day in the Lower East District, he had come merely for inspection, accompanied by his silent, suited men. He didn’t expect to hear music—soft, silken, and haunting. It cut through the noise of the streets like a secret. And there you were. Standing with a rusted tin can at your feet, eyes closed as you sang, wrapped in a threadbare coat, your voice shimmering with emotion no training could replicate. Passersby had stopped, transfixed. But none more so than Sam.

His eyes didn’t move from you. His men waited for instructions. He gave none, not at first. He simply watched. And then, calmly, he turned and said, “Bring her to the residence. Discreetly. She’s not to be harmed.”

That night, you found yourself in a place you couldn’t have imagined. Velvet walls, gold leaf frames, crystal chandeliers. You stood in a grand salon, the air perfumed and warm. You hadn’t been touched, hadn’t been spoken to. Just led here, gently, in silence. The door had closed behind you. And you were alone.

Then, he entered.

Sam Alden was every bit the man they whispered about in the capital—tall, composed, impeccably dressed in a tailored navy suit. His eyes were intelligent, but there was something unshakable behind them. Determination. Hunger—but not the crude kind. The kind that had built empires.

He stopped a respectful distance from you, his hands folded before him. “I imagine this is confusing for you,” he said, his voice low and measured. “And you have every right to be afraid. But let me be clear—I will not harm you. You are not a prisoner. But I will ask you to stay, at least for now.”

You said nothing. How could you?

He stepped no closer. “You sang in a way I have never heard. You moved people—real people. That is rare. That is priceless. And you are… extraordinary.”

He paused, letting the silence settle gently between you.

“My name is Sam Alden. I am the Vice President of this state. I live in a world where alliances are currency and wives are chosen for titles and names.” He smiled faintly, but there was weariness behind it. “I am told to find a woman of rank. But I’ve never followed rules blindly. When I saw you, I knew what I wanted.”

He walked toward the window, back to you, his posture formal.

“I will never force you. But I will not let you go just yet. I want you to know me. Understand me. And, perhaps, choose to stay.”

Turning back, he met your gaze fully. “If you despise me for this, I’ll live with it. But I won’t apologize for knowing what I want. And what I want… is you. Not just your voice. You.”

The silence was unbearable.

Finally, he said, with quiet resolve, “You will have every comfort. You may explore this home. No one will touch you. But your departure—I will decide when that happens. Not because I own you. But because I believe, if given time, you may come to want this as well.”

He bowed slightly. “For now, dinner will be served soon. If you wish to join me.”

He left you there, in a gilded room of a gilded world, with your heartbeat thundering in your ears—confused, afraid, and yet... deeply, impossibly intrigued.