The Unexpected Bride

Chapter 3

“But this is… illegal.”

He tilted his head slightly. “Do I look legal?”

“What?” Her brows furrowed, thrown off.

“It’s a question.”

Nova’s breath caught in her throat. Something about him stripped the air from the room.

“Can I go out for a walk?” she asked, the request trembling from her lips. She didn’t know the neighborhood, didn’t care. She just needed to be away from him, just for a minute.

He watched her for a long second, silent. Then his jaw shifted.

“You can,” he said. “But don’t get lost. I won’t come looking.”

He stood, smooth and practiced, and crossed to a side table. Without ceremony, he tossed a slim card onto the counter.

“That’s the gate pass. You’ll need it to get back in. Lose it, and you sleep outside.”

He moved past her, heading toward the hallway. Just before he turned the corner, he paused.

“Be back before dark. I don’t like finding strangers on my property.”

And then he was gone leaving behind his cold indifference and the heaviness in her chest.

“Is this how I’ll have to live now?” Nova murmured, fighting back the tears burning her eyes.

Her fingers closed around the gate pass like it was both a key and a chain. The walls felt too tall. Too quiet. Too clean.

No warmth. No kindness. Just rules. Silence. Obedience.

Nova blinked rapidly. She bit her lip hard, drawing a sharp breath as she whispered again:

“Is this really better than the streets?”

But deep down, she already knew. The cold luxury, the silence, the man with eyes like ice it was still safer than the rain, the hunger, the fear.

Still… safety didn’t feel like living.

She took one last breath and headed for the door, needing air that didn’t smell like him. Even if just for a little while.

After an hour on the street, Nova came across a restaurant that seemed to be in need of an attendant.

'After all, I’ll need money to live. I should try my luck,' she thought, staring at the restaurant.

She stood there for a moment, the steady hum of traffic around her drowned out by the rush of her own thoughts. The sign above the door flickered slightly, casting a warm glow onto the sidewalk. The scent of food, familiar and comforting drifted out every time the door swung open.

Her fingers tightened around the gate pass in her pocket, but the thought of money, of something more than just surviving, pushed her forward.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she whispered to herself.

Taking a deep breath, she walked to the door and pushed it open with tentative fingers. A small bell above the entrance jingled softly.

Inside, the atmosphere was cozy and busy, with a handful of customers chatting quietly while waitstaff moved between tables. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with dark hair tied up in a bun looked up from her paperwork, her eyes quickly scanning Nova from head to toe.

The woman wiped her hands on her apron and gave a polite, guarded smile.

“Do you need something?” she asked, glancing briefly at Nova’s oversized black shirt, then back to her face.

Nova hesitated, then forced her voice to stay steady.

“I was wondering… if you needed any help. I can work.”

The woman looked her over again, this time more thoughtfully, then glanced toward the kitchen before returning her gaze.

“We're short on staff today,” she said. “You know anything about waiting tables?”

Nova swallowed hard, nerves rising, but she nodded.

“I can learn,” she said quickly. “I just need a chance.”

The woman paused, her expression unreadable, before letting out a short sigh.

“Alright. You can start by helping clear the tables. If you're good, maybe we’ll talk more.”

Nova's face lit up with relief. “Thank you,” she said softly.

The woman gave a short nod and turned back toward the kitchen, already focused on her next task.

Nova stepped farther into the restaurant, feeling the weight of uncertainty still clinging to her, but also a fragile new sense of purpose. She didn’t know what the rest of the day would bring, but for the first time since she woke up in that strange, cold house, she felt like she was moving toward something.

She changed quickly into the restaurant’s uniform: simple black trousers and a fitted top. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it felt like a small victory just to shed the oversized shirt she’d been wearing since the night before.

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