Chapter 3: His World, His Rules

Ira woke up to silence again.

But this time, it was different.

This silence didn’t belong to fear — it belonged to control.

Soft sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, falling gently on the expensive bed she had slept on without really sleeping. Her body ached, not from pain, but from tension that never left her muscles.

She sat up slowly.

For a moment, she forgot where she was.

Then reality crashed down.

The mansion.

The rules.

Him.

A soft knock echoed.

Before she could respond, the door opened.

Mrs. Collins entered, carrying neatly folded clothes. “Good morning,” she said calmly. “Sir wants you downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

Ira’s heart skipped. “Why?”

Mrs. Collins placed the clothes on the bed. “Breakfast.”

Just one word.

But it felt like a command, not an invitation.

“What if I don’t come?” Ira asked quietly.

Mrs. Collins paused, then met her eyes. “Then he will come here.”

That settled it.

The clothes were simple yet elegant — a light-colored dress, modest but expensive. Nothing revealing. Nothing defiant. Designed to make her look exactly how he wanted.

She changed in silence.

When she reached the dining hall, her steps slowed.

Adrian was already seated at the head of the long table, reading something on his tablet. Black shirt. Sleeves rolled up. Calm. Untouchable.

He didn’t look up when she entered.

“Sit,” he said.

She obeyed, choosing the chair farthest from him.

He finally lifted his eyes.

“Closer.”

Her fingers tightened around the chair. Slowly, she moved to the seat beside him.

Too close.

A servant placed breakfast in front of her — fruits, toast, eggs. She stared at the plate without appetite.

“Eat,” Adrian said.

“I’m not hungry,” she replied softly.

His gaze sharpened.

“You will eat,” he said calmly. “I don’t repeat myself.”

She picked up the fork with shaking fingers.

As she ate, she felt his eyes on her — not constantly, but often enough to remind her she was being watched. Measured. Assessed.

“Today,” Adrian spoke after a moment, “you’ll come with me.”

Her hand froze. “Where?”

“A public event,” he said. “My world.”

Her stomach twisted. “I don’t know how to—”

“You’ll learn,” he interrupted. “Quietly.”

She swallowed. “What am I supposed to do?”

He leaned back slightly. “Stand beside me. Smile when required. Speak only when spoken to.”

She nodded.

“Good,” he said. “Because today, people will see you.”

Her breath hitched.

“They’ll know you’re mine.”

The drive to the venue felt longer than the one to the mansion.

This time, she sat rigid, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Adrian was on his phone, speaking in low tones — business, power, things she didn’t understand.

When they arrived, cameras flashed instantly.

Ira flinched.

Adrian’s hand wrapped around her wrist without warning — firm, possessive.

“Don’t pull away,” he murmured without looking at her. “They smell weakness.”

His grip tightened slightly, not painful, but warning.

Inside, the hall buzzed with voices. Men in suits. Women in gowns. Power dripping from every corner.

Whispers followed them.

“That’s her.”

“Blackwood’s wife?”

“She looks so young…”

Ira’s chest felt tight.

Adrian placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her forward.

Every touch screamed ownership.

Someone approached, smiling nervously. “Mr. Blackwood. Congratulations.”

Adrian nodded. “Thank you.”

“And this must be—”

“My wife,” Adrian said before the man could finish.

Ira forced a small smile.

The man turned to her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

She opened her mouth to respond—

Adrian’s fingers pressed slightly harder into her back.

She closed it again.

Adrian answered for her. “She’s not very talkative.”

The man laughed awkwardly. “Of course.”

As the evening continued, Ira realized something terrifying.

Adrian never introduced her by name.

Only by title.

My wife.

Mine.

By the time they returned home, her head throbbed.

She walked toward her room, desperate for solitude.

“Ira.”

She stopped.

Adrian stood behind her, his expression unreadable.

“You did well,” he said.

The words surprised her.

“Remember,” he continued, “as long as you behave, life here will be… comfortable.”

She looked down. “And if I don’t?”

He stepped closer, lowering his voice.

“Then you’ll remember why you belong to me.”

Her breath shook.

He turned away, leaving her standing there — heart pounding, mind spinning.

As she closed her bedroom door, one thought echoed endlessly.

She hadn’t just entered his house.

She had entered his world.

And in this world, she wasn’t a person.

She was a possession learning how to survive.

---

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***