Chapter 3 – Glass Walls, Paper Vows
Aria's POV
Aria woke to silence.
She blinked at the ceiling — wide, white, unfamiliar. Her body sank into soft bedding, her fingers curled into the corner of a duvet that didn't belong to her. Nothing in this room did.
It wasn't the bed that made her feel like a stranger, though. It was the ring on her finger.
She turned her hand over slowly. The diamond glinted in the morning light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. Cold, flawless. Just like the man who had put it there.
She was married.
Legally. Publicly. Permanently — for a year.
Aria sat up, pulling the duvet around her like armor. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A single notification:
9:00 AM – Breakfast with Kade. Dress appropriately.
No name. No pleasantries. Just a command.
She sighed and slid out of bed. Her wardrobe — or rather, the one someone had carefully stocked for her — had rows of designer clothes still wrapped in plastic. She chose a pale blouse and tailored slacks, then added a pair of modest heels. Business-wife chic. Whatever that meant.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Kade was already seated at the long marble island, sipping coffee and reading something on his tablet. He didn't look up.
There were two places set. Eggs. Toast. Sliced fruit.
She took the seat opposite him and reached for the water.
"I had a stylist curate your wardrobe," he said without glancing up. "You'll need to maintain a consistent image."
"So I'm a brand now?" she asked dryly.
His eyes lifted to hers. "You're an extension of mine. This marriage makes you visible. Everything you do will reflect back on me."
Aria's stomach twisted. "You know that sounds controlling."
"It's strategic." He paused. "Everything I've built can be undone with a single scandal. That includes my wife acting out of line."
She clenched her jaw. "Good thing I know how to keep my mouth shut."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do you?"
Their eyes locked for a beat too long.
The tablet pinged with a message, and Kade turned back to it, dismissing her like she was just another assistant in his office. Aria focused on her plate. She wasn't hungry, but pretending to be was apparently part of the job.
After breakfast, he stood. "We have a public appearance at the gallery this evening. A fundraiser for the board's arts initiative."
She nodded. "Do I need to give a speech, or just stand still and smile?"
"The latter. Leave the speeches to me."
His confidence was infuriating. It wasn't just the arrogance — it was how calm he was in the chaos. She was spiraling, and he was conducting the storm like a symphony.
As he turned to leave the room, she blurted, "Why me?"
Kade stopped.
He didn't look back.
"What do you mean?" he asked evenly.
"You could've married anyone," she said. "An actress. A model. A socialite. Someone who knew how to play the part."
He turned slowly. "Exactly. They know how to play the part — but they come with expectations. Contracts. Leverage. Scandals. You, on the other hand, are invisible. You don't come from power or money. You don't have an agenda."
Her cheeks flushed. "So I'm disposable."
"You're safe," he corrected. "You don't have a motive beyond survival. That's what I need."
Aria felt the weight of that word — need. Not want. Not desire. Just cold, pragmatic need.
He stepped closer then, his gaze unwavering.
"This arrangement isn't romantic. It's not personal. It's a firewall. For both of us."
She held his stare. "So when the year is over, you'll just walk away."
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No apology.
And for some reason, that stung.
---
The afternoon passed slowly. Aria wandered the penthouse, trying to make sense of the space she now lived in. It was stunning — polished wood floors, abstract art, glass walls with city views — but it felt like a museum. Beautiful, expensive… and empty.
In the corner of the study, she found a photo. A real one. Not a painting or press image.
It showed Kade, younger, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He wasn't smiling. Standing beside him was a man — older, graying, stern — with the same icy eyes.
His father?
She turned it over. Nothing on the back. No date. No message.
Before she could put it down, a voice cut through the room.
"What are you doing?"
She startled, nearly dropping the frame.
Kade stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, his face unreadable.
"I was just… looking around."
He stepped forward, took the photo from her gently, and set it face-down on the desk. "Don't go through my personal things."
She nodded, flustered. "Sorry."
There was something brittle in his tone. Not anger — something deeper. Sadder.
He stared at the photo a second longer, then pivoted. "Your dress for tonight is in your room. Be ready by seven."
Just like that, the wall went back up.
---
By the time they arrived at the gallery, the cameras were already waiting.
Kade stepped out first, then turned to help her down like a gentleman. The moment their hands touched, she felt it again — the electricity. The lie wrapped in silk.
Flashbulbs exploded around them as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Her heart pounded, but her face smiled, poised and polished.
"Just keep looking at me," he whispered through his teeth. "It'll make them jealous."
"Who?"
But he didn't answer.
Inside, champagne flowed, music played, and the world watched them like a performance. And Aria played her role — smiled, nodded, leaned into him when appropriate. They danced once. A slow, practiced waltz, his hand at her back, his face close to hers.
"You're not terrible at this," he murmured.
"Neither are you."
He twirled her, then pulled her back in.
For a second, the world went quiet.
And then—
A flash.
Not a camera this time.
A phone.
From the second-floor balcony, a woman in a red dress stood watching them. Her eyes locked with Aria's. And the expression there wasn't curiosity.
It was recognition.
And something else.
Hatred.
Kade's arm stiffened.
"You saw her?" he asked under his breath.
"Yes. Who is she?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stepped back, smile fixed like marble, and whispered, "Don't react. We have a problem."