Chapter 1: The First Rule POV: Lucy

The ink wasn't even dry on the marriage certificate when Adrian's driver dumped me at his penthouse.

No honeymoon. No wedding. Just a cold "Mrs Adrian" title from the lawyer and a car ride in silence.

The apartment smelled like old money- leather, citrus, something expensive I couldn't name. It didn't smell like home. It smelled like prison.

"Set her things in the master closet" Adrian said to the housekeeper without looking at me. His voice was bored. Like I was a package he'd ordered online.

I clutched the handle of my suitcase tighter. It was the only thing I'd packed myself. The only thing I'd packed myself. The only thing my aunt and uncle hadn't touched.

"Yes, Mr. Adrian" said the housekeeper Maria, her name tag said.

"Don't." The word came out sharper than I meant. Both of them turned.

Adrian's eyebrow lifted a fraction. It was the first time he'd really looked at me since the register office. His eyes were cold. No warmth. No welcome.

"I can do it myself" I said.

"You won't." He nodded to Maria." Open it."

Maria unzipped the suitcase on the marble floor of the closet. Adrian finally walked over hands in his pockets, like he was inspecting inventory.

Then he saw them. Old jeans with frayed hems. A sweater with a hole in the sleeve that I'd sewn shut three times. An oversized

t-shirt, faded so much the letters were ghosts. Nothing worth anything. Everything is worth everything.

His jaw ticked. Once. Twice.

"Is this a joke?" His voice was quiet. That made it worse.

"What?" I asked him.

"Those" He pointed towards my clothes as though they were a piece of trash. Maybe it was for him.

"They're mine and very comfortable," I said cold. Unbothered. Confident.

Adrian crouched. He didn't touch anything. Just stared at the hole in my favorite sweater like it had personally offended him. "You're Mrs Adrian now."

"So? I didn't ask to be"

That earned me a look. Sharp enough to cut. "No. You were sold."

Maria flinched. I didn't. I was too busy being furious.

"Get rid of it," Adrian said, standing. "All of it. Burn it if you have to."

"Wait-" I lunged for the suitcase.

He was faster.

His hand closed around my wrist , not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough that I couldn't move. His skin was hot. Mine went cold.

"Don't  touch me," I hissed.

His thumb brushed over my pulse point. Once. Like he was checking I was real. Like he was memorizing it. Then he let go like I'd burned him."

"Rule #1" he said to Maria, not to me. "Nothing old comes into this house. Nothing broken. Nothing that smells like before."

Maria nodded, already scooping up my sweater. My most favorite one.

"Adrian -" I hated how his name scraped my throat.

He turned his back on me. "You'll have new clothes by morning. Silk. Cashmere. Things befitting my wife."

"I hate silk" I spat at his back.

He paused in the doorway. Didn't turn around. "You'll learn to like it"

The door clicked shut behind him.

Maria wouldn't meet my eyes as she zipped my empty suitcase closed. "i'm sorry, Mrs. Adrian. He's.......particular."

"Yeah particular." I rolled my eyes.

I stared at the empty space where my clothes had been. At the rows of empty hangers waiting for things I didn't want.

He thought he could erase me. Throw out the holes and the frayed edges and replace me with something smooth and new.

He had no idea how hard I was to get rid.of.

And he had no idea I saw it - that split second when he'd looked at my old sweater.

It wasn't disgust.

It was rage.

Like the holes hurt him.

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