WELCOME TO THE CAGE
609 Words
Chapter Two: Welcome to the Cage
The mansion was quiet — too quiet.
Saraphina stood at the top of the marble staircase, staring into the dimly lit hallway that stretched before her like the throat of some sleeping beast. This was Lucian’s estate now. Hers too, technically. But it felt like stepping into a stranger’s mind — cold, organized, silent. Like nothing in it had ever lived.
She still wore her wedding dress.
It was heavy now.
Not because of the fabric, but because of what it meant. What it chained her to.
Downstairs, the wedding guests had begun to fade. Chauffeurs waited. Champagne flutes sat half-finished on tables. Smiles grew fake the later it got.
Lucian hadn’t even said goodnight. He simply disappeared into the dark like he always belonged there.
She hated him already.
But more than that… she feared what he wasn’t saying.
Saraphina walked slowly into the room that had been labeled hers. It was massive, luxurious — but sterile. Not a single trace of warmth. No books. No personal touches. Just cold elegance, like everything in this cursed house.
She sank onto the velvet settee and reached for her phone. No missed calls. No texts from her father. Just a few automated congratulations from her company’s PR team.
She didn’t even want the marriage. But she had accepted it.
Because of her mother.
Her sweet, quiet mother, who now lived like a ghost in her own house — constantly belittled by Saraphina’s father, walked over by her gold-digging stepmother, ignored like a piece of old furniture. The only way Saraphina could protect her was to agree to this arrangement. If she married into power, maybe her voice would finally matter.
She hated that logic. But it was the only power she had left.
And then — a knock.
She turned sharply.
Lucian stood in the doorway. He hadn’t changed. Still wearing his black suit, hair slightly disheveled, expression unreadable. His icy grey eyes roamed the room before settling on her.
“No need to act surprised,” he said calmly. “We live in the same house now.”
Saraphina stood, folding her arms.
“I was hoping you’d stay in the west wing. Far west.”
He stepped inside, slowly closing the door behind him.
“You looked like you were going to faint earlier,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm. “I came to make sure you didn’t pass out in your own wedding dress. Bad press.”
She scoffed. “Didn’t realize you cared about press. Or people.”
“I don’t,” he said. “But I do care about damage control.”
Silence.
The tension between them was thick — not just hate, but heat.
Lucian stepped closer. Not enough to be inappropriate, but enough to make her heart thump.
“I’ll make this clear now,” he said. “I don’t want to be your husband. But I will be your shield. Until my reasons for agreeing to this are done, no one will touch you. Not your father. Not your stepmother. Not anyone.”
She blinked. For a second, something inside her softened. But then she caught herself.
“And when your reasons are done?” she asked quietly.
He smirked — cruel and beautiful.
“Then we’ll see which one of us walks away first.”
He left without another word.
The door shut softly behind him, but it might as well have slammed.
Saraphina sat back down, staring at her reflection in the tall mirror across the room.
A new bride.
A prisoner in a palace.
And somewhere in the night… a storm was building.
- Writer
