Episode 4: Playing with Reality
1265 Words
Eron stepped closer, his massive frame completely eclipsing the night sky above her. He leveled her with an intense, suffocating glare that could cut through steel. Deep down inside, Liyora’s chest tightened and she flinched, a jolt of pure survival instinct screaming at her to run. But she didn't show it. She kept her chin up, holding the flickering orange flame steady between them.
Eron didn’t blink. Slowly, deliberately, his large hand reached out. His knuckles brushed against her cold fingers, sending a wave of electric heat straight up her arm. With effortless strength, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, gently bending her hand back until he smoothly slid the metal lighter out of her grip.
"Stop getting so angry, Liyo," Eron murmured, his thumb rubbing over the smooth metal casing before he slipped it into his own pocket. His dark eyes dropped to her flat stomach. "It's bad for the child in your belly."
Liyora let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, rolling her eyes as the adrenaline faded. "Stop that ridiculous joke, Eron. There are no cameras here. We are alone."
Instead of backing away, Eron took another step forward, closing the remaining distance until her front was pressed completely against his chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His hot breath fanned against her skin, making her shudder.
"You are the one who started this joke, sweetheart," he whispered, his low, gravelly baritone sending a shiver straight down her spine. He tilted his head slightly, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of her hair, completely intoxicating himself with her proximity. "And if you keep pushing me... I might just decide to make that joke a reality."
Liyora’s breath hitched. She stumbled backward, her face burning crimson as she finally broke out of his hold. Make it a reality? The dark, dangerous promise in his voice told her he wasn't just teasing. He was a predator waiting for her to trip.
Before she could fire back a retort, the heavy crunch of gravel broke the silence. Derek approached from the shadow of the mansion, accompanied by another armed guard. He kept his eyes strictly on the ground, highly aware of the thick tension in the air.
"Boss," Derek spoke quietly, clearing his throat. "The logistics team is ready. We need you in the office for a short time to sign off on the international transfers."
Eron nodded once, his cold, business-like demeanor returning in a fraction of a second. He glanced over his shoulder at Liyora, who was still trying to steady her racing heart.
"Go inside," Eron commanded smoothly. "Look around the estate and choose a room for your fashion design activities. You'll need a proper workspace if you're going to build your brand."
Liyora blinked, surprised by his sudden practicality, but a much bigger question popped into her mind. She crossed her arms defensively. "And what about sleeping? Where is my room?"
A wicked, slow smirk spread across Eron’s handsome face. He took a predatory step back toward her, his hand moving like lightning to grab her small waist. He pulled her flush against his hard frame one last time, his dark eyes flashing with an unholy amusement.
"You can wait for me in the master bedroom," Eron whispered, his voice dripping with a dark, flirting vibe that made her blood run hot. His grip tightened on her waist for a fraction of a second, letting her feel the absolute strength of his hold. "Don't go to sleep until I get there, wife."
With a final, lingering look that left her completely paralyzed, Eron released her, turned on his heel, and walked toward his private office wing with Derek following close behind.
Liyora stepped into the grand foyer of the mansion, and the sheer scale of the interior took her breath away. Row after row of uniformed servants stood in perfect alignment. The moment she crossed the threshold, they all bowed their heads in deep, synchronized respect, greeting her.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Novak," the head butler murmured respectfully.
Liyora shivered. Mrs. Novak. Hearing the title made her deeply uncomfortable. The second she cleared the main hallway, her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was Elina.
Liyora snatched up the call, ducking into a quiet corridor. "Elina! Thank god."
"Liyo! What is going on?" Elina asked, her voice completely clueless and unaware of the armed guards currently surrounding her own house. "Did the pregnancy report work? Is the wedding off?"
Liyora practically choked on her own breath, immediately spilling all the tea at lightning speed. She launched into a frantic rant, cursing Eron’s name and blaming him for every single thing that had gone wrong in the last two hours.
"He’s a literal demon, Elina! He brought a marriage registrar to my parents' house, blackmailed me using your safety, and now I'm legally married to him!" Liyora paced back and forth, puffing out her chest and deeply dropping her voice to imitate his arrogant, mocking tone. "‘Oh, don’t get so angry, babe, our baby might get sad!’" She rolled her eyes aggressively, cursing under her breath. "‘Oh, watch your mouth, this is my child!’ Ugh! He is so exhausting, Elina! I hate him, I swear I hate his sarcastic, smug face!"
There was a long, stunned silence on the other end of the line. Finally, Elina sighed. "Liyo... look, I know he's terrifying. And I know you're furious. But just forget about your past for a second. The paperwork is signed. You are officially married to him now. Maybe you should just try to live with him and see how it goes?"
"Live with him?!" Liyora hissed, blaming him all over again. "Are you insane? He trapped me!"
But as the words left her mouth, Elina’s mention of their past hit her hard. For a fleeting moment, Liyora’s mind went back in time, slipping seventeen years into the past.
She had been just an innocent six-year-old girl playing on a private beach during a joint family vacation. Eron had been a brooding, silent twelve-year-old boy—the son of her father’s ultimate corporate boss. She vividly remembered sitting in the wet sand, proudly molding a beautiful, intricate sandcastle. Eron had walked up, stared down at her with that same cold, unreadable glare he had today, and deliberately lifted his foot, crushing her creation into dust under his heel. Every single time their families met after that, Eron always used to bully her, tormenting her stubborn nature just because he could.
The memory snapped, pulling her violently back into the present.
"He’s been a monster since he was twelve, Elina! I am never making peace with him!" Liyora ranted, before finally hanging up the call with a frustrated groan.
Huffing, she wandered deeper into the breathtaking mansion, looking at the sheer beauty of the high ceilings and marble columns. She bypassed the master bedroom entirely—there was no way she was sleeping in his bed. Instead, she found a stunning room filled with large windows that would be perfect for her fashion design workspace.
Exhausted from the absolute chaos of the day, Liyora collapsed onto a large, plush velvet sofa in the corner of the room. She curled her knees to her chest, her eyelids growing impossibly heavy. Within minutes, the quiet luxury of the mansion swallowed her whole, and she drifted fast asleep.
- Writer
