Chapter 8
663 Words
The advocate’s footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving behind a suffocating silence.
The will… my father’s will.
The paper that chained me to the devil standing right in front of me.
My hands trembled, my breath ragged, but I refused to let him see me weak.
I finally spoke, my voice sharp as broken glass.
“Where’s my room?”
Rivan didn’t even flinch. He slid his hands casually into his pockets, his dark gray shirt hugging his sculpted frame, and smirked. That infuriating smirk.
“Our room,” he said, voice low, commanding, deadly calm.
I blinked, trying to process. “…What?”
He leaned closer, his cologne expensive and intoxicating invading my lungs.
“Oh, honey,” he whispered, like he was talking to a child. “You’re not just sharing a room with me… you’re sharing the bed… and your whole life with me.”
My jaw clenched. My body burned with fury.
“f**k off, Rivan!” I snapped, shoving his arm away. “I can’t even breathe in this air!”
He didn’t react. Didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten.
He just… smirked deeper, as if my rebellion amused him.
I grabbed my phone off the table and stormed away before I lost it completely.
“Show me the room. Now.”
“Already ahead of you, Mrs. Shah,” he said lazily, gesturing toward a grand mahogany door at the end of the hallway.
I stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind me only to freeze.
The wardrobe was already filled… with my clothes. My favorite pajamas, my perfumes, my makeup all perfectly arranged like I’d been living here for years.
I tore the heavy red lehenga off my body, throwing it on the floor like it burned me. I hated it. I hated him.
Pulling on a loose white T-shirt and soft cotton shorts, I sank into the couch, curling into myself.
But peace didn’t last long.
A soft knock.
Then the door creaked open.
One of the female bodyguards walked in, balancing a tray of food.
“Ma’am,” she said gently, “please… have dinner.”
I shook my head violently.
“I don’t want anything from this goddamn mansion.”
“Ma’am… please,” she tried again.
I glared, my voice slicing through the silence.
“Get out. I said I don’t want it.”
She hesitated, sighed softly, and placed the tray on the table anyway.
“You haven’t eaten since noon… your body will give up, ma’am.”
I ignored her. My stubbornness was the only power I had left.
Minutes later, the door burst open again.
Rivan.
Leaning against the doorframe, he looked like sin carved into flesh messy black hair, rolled-up sleeves, veins visible along his forearms.
He glanced at the untouched tray, then back at me.
“Eat,” he ordered, picking up the plate and walking over.
I crossed my arms and gave him my deadliest glare.
“What do you think you are, huh? God?”
He chuckled darkly, tilting his head.
“No, baby,” he whispered, bending down until his face was inches from mine. “I’m worse.”
I froze, heat prickling my skin, but I refused to back down.
“I am not eating anything you give me.”
He sat beside me, close enough that our knees brushed, and held the spoon out.
“You didn’t eat since last noon,” he said softly, almost mockingly. “Soon your body’s going to give up… and when it does, don’t blame me.”
“Stop acting like you care,” I spat.
He smirked again God, I hated that smirk.
“Who said I care?” he murmured. “I just don’t want my bride fainting before… the real wedding night.”
My stomach twisted, my hands curling into fists.
I wanted to scream. To slap him. To run.
But I stayed still. Silent.
Because deep down, I knew this was only the beginning.
- Writer
