Chapter 3: A marriage without love.
853 Words
The car ride was silent after that.
Not the uncomfortable kind—but the kind that carried weight. Decisions. Endings.
Trisha didn’t ask where they were going.
Trevor didn’t explain.
When the car finally slowed, the gates before them opened without question. The mansion beyond stood tall and distant, lights glowing softly against the night. It wasn’t loud wealth. It was controlled. Untouchable.
Just like him.
The car came to a stop.
The driver stepped out, opening the door.
Trisha picked up her suitcase and stepped out without hesitation.
No questions. No second thoughts.
She had already left everything behind.
Inside, the house was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that didn’t come from emptiness—but from discipline.
Trevor walked ahead, his steps steady, expecting her to follow.
She did.
They entered a spacious living area, dimly lit, elegant without being excessive. He stopped, turning slightly to face her.
“This will be your residence from now on,” he said.
Trisha set her suitcase down gently. “Understood.”
His gaze lingered on her, as if searching for something—hesitation, doubt, fear.
He found none.
Good.
Trevor reached into his jacket and pulled out a document, placing it on the table between them.
“A contract,” he said.
Trisha didn’t move immediately.
“I assumed as much.”
“Read it.”
She stepped forward, picking it up. Her eyes scanned the pages quickly, efficiently.
Contract marriage.
Duration: one year.
Conditions:
No emotional involvement.
No interference in each other’s personal affairs.
Maintain appearances when necessary.
No unnecessary contact.
Her lips curved faintly.
Clean. Direct. Emotionless.
It suited her.
“And in return?” she asked, looking up.
Trevor’s expression didn’t change. “You get protection. Freedom from your family. And access.”
“Access?”
“To anything you need.”
Her gaze held his for a moment.
Power. Resources. Distance.
Exactly what she needed.
“Why me?” she asked.
Trevor didn’t answer immediately.
“You’re convenient,” he said finally.
A lie.
But a controlled one.
Trisha didn’t press.
“Fine,” she said, placing the document back on the table. “I agree.”
Trevor watched her carefully. “You didn’t read everything.”
“I read enough.”
“And if there are terms you don’t like?”
“I won’t break them.”
Simple.
Certain.
His eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion—but interest.
“Sign it,” he said.
She did.
No hesitation.
No emotion.
Just a quiet, final decision.
Trevor took the document, glancing at her signature before setting it aside.
“It’s done then.”
“Yes.”
A pause settled between them.
Then—
“I have one condition,” Trisha added.
Trevor raised a brow. “You’re not in a position to negotiate.”
“I’m not negotiating,” she replied calmly. “I’m informing.”
His gaze sharpened.
“Speak.”
“I stay out of sight,” she said. “No public appearances unless absolutely necessary. I don’t attend your events. I don’t involve myself in your world.”
Trevor studied her.
“You want to be hidden.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I prefer it.”
Not a full answer.
But enough.
After a moment, he nodded. “Accepted.”
Trisha inclined her head slightly. “Thank you.”
Trevor turned away, as if the conversation was already over.
“A room has been prepared for you,” he said. “You’ll find everything you need.”
She picked up her suitcase.
“Goodnight,” she said.
No emotion.
No attachment.
Just distance.
“Trisha.”
She paused.
But didn’t turn.
“This arrangement,” Trevor said slowly, “remains exactly that.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“I know.”
A contract.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
…
The room was larger than she expected.
Clean. Minimal. Quiet.
She placed her suitcase down and walked toward the window. The city stretched out below, lights flickering endlessly.
Alive.
Moving.
Unbothered.
Just like it had always been.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass.
Calm.
Unshaken.
Untouched.
As if nothing had happened.
But something had.
Something irreversible.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.
For a moment, she stared at it.
Then—
She removed the SIM card.
Snapped it in half.
Dropped it into the trash.
No past.
No connection.
No return.
Her fingers moved to her laptop.
She opened it.
The screen lit up.
Access granted.
A different world.
A different identity.
One no one knew.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then began to move.
Fast. Precise. Familiar.
Numbers. Codes. Systems.
Control.
Within minutes, multiple accounts flashed across the screen. Investments. Transfers. Quiet movements that left no trace.
The same way she had always operated.
Silent.
Invisible.
Untouchable.
A notification appeared.
Project: T — Active
Her gaze didn’t change.
“Continue,” she murmured softly.
Because if there was one thing Trisha understood…
It was this—
If the world refused to choose her…
She would build a world that had no choice
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