AMARA'S POV
The morning light didn't feel like light.
It felt like judgment.
It spilled through the hotel curtains — pale, cruel, too bright — as if mocking me for being awake, for still breathing after what yesterday had done to me.
I sat at the edge of the bed, still in my silk nightgown, my wedding ring glinting under the sunlight like a small piece of mockery. It was heavy. It wasn't supposed to be heavy, but it felt like it was pulling at my hand, reminding me of everything I'd lost.
Mrs. Voss.
The name rolled off my tongue like a lie I couldn't spit out.
My phone buzzed again — Lily. I didn't answer. I couldn't. I'd read her messages last night. We're proud of you. You're strong. We're here.
But strength wasn't what I felt. I felt hollow.
A soft knock broke my thoughts.
"Mrs. Voss?"
The voice was polite. Professional. A butler, maybe. I still wasn't used to that title. I hadn't earned it.
"Yes?" I said, my voice barely a whisper.
"Mr. Voss has requested that you get ready. The driver will arrive in thirty minutes to take you to the penthouse."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Alright."
The moment he left, I buried my face in my palms and breathed shakily.
This was it.
No more pretending it was a dream.
I was moving into his world today.
His home. His walls.
His rules.
I stood slowly, forcing myself to walk toward the mirror. My reflection didn't look like me anymore. The makeup from yesterday was gone, but the exhaustion wasn't. My eyes were red from crying all night; my lips pale and bitten from silence.
This was the girl who said yes to a deal she didn't make.
The girl who signed her name on a paper that stole her freedom in exchange for her father's reputation.
I brushed my hair, trying to make myself look human again. I had told myself I wouldn't cry today ,that I'd already wasted too many tears but the moment I caught sight of my wedding ring again, something inside me cracked.
I sank to the floor.
The first sob escaped like it had been caged all night.
Yesterday, when I'd stood in front of Alexander in that marble hall filled with people and flashing cameras, I'd wanted to scream. I'd wanted to rip the veil off, to tell them all it was a farce. But my father's eyes had been on me, warning me silently — Don't ruin this.
And so I smiled. I smiled for him, for the cameras, for everyone but myself.
Now, in this quiet room, I finally allowed myself to not smile.
I wept until my chest hurt, until my body shook, until I could barely breathe. And when I was done, I whispered into the empty room,
"God, please don't let me disappear in there."
---
The drive to the penthouse was quiet.
Unbearably quiet.
The driver didn't speak. Neither did I. The city rushed by in shades of silver and glass skyscrapers gleaming under the sun like polished lies. My reflection in the car window looked ghostlike.
When we finally stopped, I didn't move at first.
The building loomed above me — tall, cold, breathtaking in a way that didn't feel human. It was everything Alexander Voss was: flawless, expensive, uninviting.
A doorman opened the car door. "Mrs. Voss."
I stepped out, holding my bag tightly. The marble floor under my heels echoed like it wanted to remind me where I stood — in his world, not mine.
The elevator ride up felt endless. My heart pounded the entire way, dread crawling up my throat. When the doors finally opened, I was met with silence.
Then I saw him.
Alexander Voss.
In a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets, looking out the glass wall that framed the city skyline.
He didn't turn immediately. Of course he didn't. Men like him didn't rush for anyone.
When he finally did, his gaze slid over me slow, unreadable, assessing. Like I was a painting he didn't order but couldn't return.
"You're late," he said simply.
My throat tightened. "The driver came at eight—"
He cut me off with a faint tilt of his head. "I said you're late."
I clenched my hands, trying to stay composed. "I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."
He walked closer, stopping just a few feet away. I could smell his cologne — clean, sharp, expensive. Everything about him screamed control.
His gaze dropped briefly to my ring, then rose back to my face. "You'll find that I don't tolerate chaos in my home."
"This isn't your home," I said before I could stop myself. "It's… ours."
His eyes hardened. "Don't test me, Mrs. Voss."
The way he said my name — my new name — sounded like a chain clicking shut.
I looked away, biting my lip.
He stepped aside, gesturing around. "This is where you'll be living. Second floor is yours. Don't enter my study without permission. My staff will handle your schedule — charity appearances, interviews, whatever the media expects from you. We'll discuss them later."
His tone was mechanical. Emotionless. Like he was giving instructions to a new employee, not his wife.
I nodded silently.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked into another room, leaving me standing there — surrounded by elegance and emptiness.
---
I walked through the penthouse slowly, afraid to touch anything.
Everything gleamed. The floors were marble; the walls, glass. A chandelier sparkled above, catching the sunlight like ice.
It was beautiful, yes. But it didn't feel like home. It felt like a museum.
No warmth. No laughter. Just silence.
I found my way to what was apparently "my room."
It was perfect — too perfect. The bed was king-sized, the sheets untouched, the air smelling faintly of lavender.
But the moment I closed the door, my knees buckled. I sank onto the bed, burying my face in my hands again.
How did I end up here?
When did my life stop being mine?
I remembered Noah's words: You'll find your way out someday.
But what if I didn't? What if this was it — being Mrs. Voss, living in glass rooms, smiling for photos, pretending not to notice the coldness in my husband's eyes?
A tear slipped down. Then another.
I stared out the window. From up here, the city looked small. Maybe I did too.
But somewhere deep inside, beneath all the pain and humiliation, a quiet voice whispered — This won't last forever. You'll rise from this.
And though I didn't believe it yet, I held onto that thought.
Because it was all I had left.