Young Master Lucien’s Bride

Chapter Five

Lila’s POV

I stood there in the dead silence of the room, my breathing coming out in short, ragged gasps. My palm was still burning from the impact, and my heart was hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it might actually burst right through my chest. For a second, a terrifying second, I honestly thought Lucien might actually snap my neck. He didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stood there like a statue, his head turned slightly to the side from the force of the blow.

Slowly, almost painfully slow, he turned his head back to look at me. His eyes were totally dark, completely unreadable, looking like two bottomless pits of black ice. My stomach did a violent flip, and the instinct to step back, to run away and hide, flared up inside me. But I forced my feet to stay planted on the expensive rug. I pushed the rising fear aside and braced myself. I wasn't going to let him see me break. I needed him to know the truth.

The fact that I married him to save my mom doesn't suddenly make me his puppet or anything. He bought my hand in marriage, sure, but he didn't buy my soul. He didn't get to dictate every breath I took or lock me away from the world like a criminal.

"Infact, fine," I snapped, my voice shaking but loud enough to fill the empty space between us. "I accept your stupid rules. It'd be better if I don't even see your face while we're at it."

I genuinely expected him to throw an absolute fit. I braced my shoulders, waiting for the billionaire CEO everyone feared to finally show his true colors, to yell, or to grab my wrist and show me exactly how ruthless he could be. But he didn't.

Instead, he just reached up with a remarkably steady hand and adjusted his collar. He didn't say a single word. He just gave me this icy, lingering stare that made my skin crawl and my throat tighten up. It was a look that felt heavy, full of things he wasn't saying, and it made my stomach twist into a massive knot. Then, without a sound, he turned on his heel and walked right out of the room.

The heavy wooden doors shut behind him, and I finally let out the breath I’d been holding.

"My goodness," a quiet voice gasped.

I jumped, spinning around. Arthur, the butler, came out of nowhere. He was standing near the edge of the hallway, looking completely scandalized, his eyes wide and his face a little pale. He’d clearly seen the whole thing. For a second, he looked like he didn't even know what to do with himself, but he quickly tried to keep his cool, smoothing down his jacket and clearing his throat.

"Allow me to show you to your room, madam," Arthur said, his voice remarkably polite considering I had just assaulted his boss.

"Fine," I mumbled, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

I followed him out of the living room and up this massive, incredibly depressing staircase. The whole house felt like a museum—everything was grand, expensive, and totally lifeless. We walked down a long, quiet hallway until he stopped in front of a pair of double doors. He opened them and stepped aside, bowing his head slightly.

The bedroom was easily three times the size of my old apartment. It had a massive king-sized bed, a huge fireplace, and windows that looked out over a dark, manicured garden. It was beautiful, but it felt exactly like a prison cell.

"If you need anything, please use the intercom by the bed," Arthur said softly.

"Thanks," I muttered, not looking at him.

The moment he closed the doors and left me alone, I walked over and locked it, the heavy click of the deadbolt echoing through the space. I threw myself onto the giant, overly soft bed, burying my face in the pillows. I didn't cry. I was too angry to cry. I just rolled over onto my back and stared up at the high ceiling, wondering how my life had turned into this absolute nightmare in less than a week. A few days ago, I was worrying about vending machines and college prep. Now, I was trapped in a fortress, married to a monster.

Hours passed. The sun completely dipped below the horizon, throwing the massive bedroom into deep, shadowing darkness. I didn't bother turning on the lights. I just lay there, stewing in my own anger, playing the look on Lucien's face over and over in my head. I hated him. I hated his rules, I hated his house, and I hated the way he looked at me like I was something he owned.

Around eight in the evening, there was a soft, tentative knock on the door.

I didn't move. "Who is it?"

"It's Arthur, Madam. I've brought some dinner."

I groaned, rolling off the bed and walking over to unlock the door. Arthur was standing there holding a silver tray of food that looked way too fancy to actually eat. There was a covered dish, a sparkling glass of water, and a little cloth napkin.

"I told you I'm not hungry, Arthur," I said, leaning against the door frame. My stomach chose that exact moment to let out a loud rumble, totally betraying me.

Arthur didn't even blink. He entered anyway, politely brushing past me and setting the heavy tray down on the small table near the fireplace. "Mr. Knight gave strict orders that you must be fed, madam. And... I thought you might want to know that your mother was officially moved into the private medical wing an hour ago."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. "What?"

"She arrived safely," Arthur said, a small, genuine smile finally softening his stiff expression. "Her new doctors are already running tests, and she is resting comfortably in her private suite. The medical team is top-tier, I assure you."

The relief hit me so hard I literally had to grab the back of a nearby chair to keep my knees from buckling. A massive wave of emotion washed over me, and I almost burst into tears right in front of him. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing myself to blink back the moisture in my eyes. It was real. It wasn't a trick. My mom was getting the care she needed.

I pressed my hand against the front of my shirt, feeling the small silver pendant my dad had given me through the fabric. I remembered my promise to him. I had to stay fierce. I couldn't let this place, or Lucien Knight, break me. I had to survive this.

"Thank you, Arthur," I whispered, my voice thick. "For telling me."

"Of course, madam. Please try to eat something," he said gently, bowing his head before turning and leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Once the click of the lock settled back into place, I walked over to the tray. I lifted the silver cover, revealing some ridiculous truffle chicken dish with perfectly arranged vegetables. I forced myself to sit down and eat a few bites, mostly because I knew I needed the strength if I was going to survive living under the same roof as Lucien. It tasted incredible, which only annoyed me more.

When I couldn't force down another bite, I started wandering around the massive room. I opened the drawers of the large wooden desk in the corner, looking for anything to pass the time. In the top drawer, I found a blank notebook with a heavy leather cover and a sleek black pen.

I took them back to the bed, sat cross-legged on the mattress, and flipped to the very first page.

If Lucien Knight thought he bought a quiet, obedient little housewife, he was in for a massive reality check. He wanted to give me a list of rules? Fine. Two could play that game. I pressed the pen to the paper and started drafting a massive list of ways to make Lucien Knight's life a living hell since he thinks he owns me.

Rule number one: Never make it easy for him.