My hands were still shaking when I dropped the pen.
It didn't fall dramatically like in the movies. It simply slipped out of my fingers, like my body had finally given up trying to fight.
For a second, the room felt like it was spinning.
I stared at the paper in front of me, the ink still fresh, my name sitting there boldly like it belonged to someone else.
Ariana.
My name.
Written under something I never imagined would be my reality.
Marriage Agreement.
My throat tightened as the meaning of it sank deeper into my chest.
Just a few hours ago, I was sitting beside my father's bed, begging God to spare him. I was still a daughter holding on to the last piece of family I had left.
Now…
Now I was someone's wife.
And not the kind of wife people dream of becoming.
This wasn't love.
This wasn't happiness.
This was punishment.
Mr. Kane collected the documents from my uncle without even looking at me. His fingers moved calmly, like he was signing a business deal instead of sealing my fate.
No anger.
No smile.
No satisfaction.
Nothing.
His face remained cold, unreadable.
And somehow… that scared me more than anything else.
My uncle stood beside me awkwardly, shifting his weight like he couldn't wait to leave. He didn't look guilty. He didn't look ashamed.
He looked relieved.
Like he had just thrown away a burden he had carried for too long.
Mr. Kane finally spoke, his voice deep and firm.
"You can leave."
That was all.
Just two words.
My uncle hesitated as if he wanted to say something. Maybe he wanted to pretend he cared. Maybe he wanted to act like he wasn't the reason my life had been destroyed.
But instead, he only glanced at me once.
His eyes were empty.
Then he nodded quickly and walked away.
Just like that.
No goodbye.
No apology.
No "Are you okay?"
Nothing.
The sound of the door closing behind him echoed through the mansion, loud and final, like the last nail on a coffin.
I stood there frozen, unable to move.
And for the first time since my father died…
I realized something painful.
I was truly alone.
Not just lonely.
Not just sad.
Alone.
In a house that wasn't mine.
With a man who despised me.
My arms wrapped around myself automatically. I hugged myself tight, like my own body was the only comfort I could find.
Mr. Kane turned to face me slowly.
His eyes fell on my face.
Then on my trembling hands.
"You're crying," he said.
It wasn't a question. It wasn't sympathy.
It was an observation.
Like he was pointing out a stain on the floor.
I quickly wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand, forcing myself to stand straight.
"I'm not," I lied.
He stared at me for a long moment, and I felt my skin burn under his gaze.
Then he exhaled, low and sharp.
"This isn't a love marriage," he said coldly. "Don't expect kindness from me."
The words hit me like a slap.
I swallowed hard.
I didn't know what to say, because he was right. This wasn't love.
This was a debt.
A debt my father didn't live long enough to pay.
So they used me instead.
"I don't expect anything," I said quietly, my voice shaking. "I just want to survive."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes.
Surprise.
It disappeared quickly, replaced by the same icy expression, but I saw it.
I knew I did.
He stepped closer, towering over me like a shadow.
"You will stay in this house," he said. "You will obey the rules. And you will not embarrass me in front of my family."
My lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
I just nodded.
What else could I do?
"You will not mention your father's name here."
That sentence made my heart twist painfully.
I blinked back tears.
"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself.
His eyes darkened instantly.
"Because hearing it makes me angry," he replied, his voice colder than before. "And you won't like me when I'm angry."
Fear crawled down my spine like ice.
My fingers curled into my palm.
I wanted to defend my father.
I wanted to scream that my father was a good man. That he didn't deserve to die the way he did. That he didn't deserve to be hated even after death.
But I couldn't.
Because in this mansion, I had no voice.
No power.
And definitely no right to argue.
Mr. Kane turned away.
"Follow me."
My legs felt weak as I picked up my small bag and followed him.
The hallway was long and quiet, the kind of quiet that made your footsteps sound too loud. The walls were decorated with expensive paintings that looked like they belonged in a museum.
The mansion was beautiful.
But it didn't feel warm.
It felt like a place built for people who didn't laugh.
People who didn't forgive.
People who didn't love.
We walked past doors that looked heavy enough to hide secrets behind them.
And with every step, I felt smaller.
Like I was shrinking into the floor.
We finally stopped in front of a large door.
"This is your room," he said.
He opened it slightly and stepped aside.
Inside was a room that didn't even look real.
A huge bed with clean white sheets.
Soft carpet that swallowed my feet.
A chandelier hanging like a crown from the ceiling.
The air smelled like expensive perfume and fresh linen.
It was too perfect.
Too clean.
Too… foreign.
It felt like a room meant for someone else.
Not me.
"My room is on the other side of the house," he continued. "Don't come near it."
His voice remained emotionless.
Like I was a stranger.
Not his wife.
Not even human.
"This is where you'll stay," he said. "A maid will bring your food. If you need anything important, speak to the housekeeper."
Then he paused.
His jaw tightened slightly, like the next words tasted bitter.
"Do not call me your husband."
My heart jumped.
Even though I knew this marriage wasn't real, hearing him say it out loud made it sting.
I forced myself to ask, "Then… what should I call you?"
"Mr. Kane," he replied instantly.
The distance between us was already built.
Brick by brick.
Cold and solid.
He turned as if he was done with me.
But my voice came out again before he could leave.
"Sir…"
He paused without turning.
"What about my father's burial?" I asked, my voice breaking.
The air became tense.
For a moment, I thought he would ignore me.
Then he finally spoke.
"It will be handled," he said. "Consider it part of the agreement."
My eyes filled instantly.
A sob rose in my throat, but I swallowed it.
I didn't want to cry in front of him again.
Still, I whispered, "Thank you."
He didn't respond.
He simply walked out.
The door shut behind him with a quiet click.
And the sound felt like a prison lock.
I stood there for a long time, staring at the door, like I expected it to open again.
But it didn't.
My legs finally gave out, and I sank slowly onto the edge of the bed.
The mattress was soft.
But my heart was heavy.
My father was gone.
My uncle had sold me like I was nothing.
And now I belonged to a man who blamed me for a crime I didn't commit.
I lay back slowly and stared at the ceiling.
My chest felt like it was being crushed.
"Papa…" I whispered, my voice breaking into pieces. "If you can see me… please forgive me."
That night, sleep refused to come.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the hospital again.
The machines.
The cold bed.
My father's still face.
I didn't even get to cry properly. Everything happened too fast, like the world didn't even give me time to mourn.
I turned restlessly, clutching the blanket like it could save me.
Finally, I buried my face into the pillow and let the tears fall silently.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Until my eyes burned.
Until my heart felt empty.
Because I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
But one thing was already clear…
My life was no longer mine.
And the man I had married…
Was not my savior.
He was my punishment.
And this mansion…
Was the cage my father's death had bought for me.