DESTINED

ARRIVAL

The ride was silent.

Not the peaceful kind of silence—this one was heavy, suffocating, filled with thoughts. Emily couldn’t escape no matter how tightly she clasped her hands in her lap. The car glided smoothly over the road, but inside her chest, everything felt jagged and uneven.

Emily stared straight ahead, her reflection faintly visible in the tinted window. A bride. A wife. The words felt unreal, like something belonging to another girl’s life. Her mind drifted unwillingly to the future now laid before her, a future she had no control over.

All the things Mr. Mayers could do to her now.

Her stomach twisted.

Her thoughts darkened, spiraling fast, cruel images forming before she could stop them. Orders. Punishments. A life where her voice didn’t matter, where her body didn’t belong to her. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed them together, nails digging into her skin as if pain could anchor her.

She wondered—no, begged—why her mother had died and left her behind in such a cruel world.

Why hadn’t she taken her with her?

The ache in her chest sharpened, turning into a quiet, relentless grief. If her mother were alive, this wouldn’t happen. Someone would have protected her. Someone would have said no.

Emily swallowed hard, forcing herself to breathe.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed when the car began to slow. Only when the smooth motion halted completely did she blink and lift her head.

Her breath caught.

They had stopped in front of a massive building, tall and imposing, surrounded by high walls and iron gates. Guards stood posted on either side, dressed in black, guns strapped visibly against their bodies. Their expressions were hard, professional, eyes alert and watchful.

Fear slid coldly down Emily’s spine.

This wasn’t just a house.

This was power.

The gates opened slowly, silently, and the car rolled forward. Emily watched as the mansion revealed itself piece by piece—vast, elegant, intimidating. It was enormous. At least ten times bigger than her uncle’s house. The structure rose proudly against the sky, a blend of modern design and cold authority.

She felt very small.

The car finally stopped at the front entrance. The driver stepped out quickly, opening the door with practiced precision. Emily hesitated, then stepped down carefully, the hem of her dress brushing the stone beneath her feet.

She looked up again, mesmerized.

The mansion was even more breathtaking up close.

She was still taking it all in when Muse’s voice broke the moment.

“Come on in.”

She flinched slightly at the sound of it, then nodded and followed him. Emily walked behind Muse as they entered the house, her steps cautious, her posture stiff. The interior was even more beautiful than the outside. Everything gleamed—polished floors, high ceilings, subtle lighting that made the entire space feel unreal.

Very expensive taste.

Nothing was out of place. Nothing looked lived in.

Emily felt like she didn’t belong there at all.

They moved through the house without speaking, their footsteps echoing softly. She kept her eyes down, afraid of drawing attention to herself, afraid of doing something wrong. When they reached the staircase, her heart sank.

The stairs were wide and grand—but her dress was too much.

The fabric pooled around her feet, heavy and unfamiliar, swallowing her small frame. She lifted the hem slightly and began to climb, slow and careful, but each step felt like a struggle. Her body wasn’t used to something so restricting, so large.

She felt clumsy.

She felt exposed.

Halfway up, she sensed it—eyes on her.

Emily froze.

Muse had stopped and turned around. Their gazes locked.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest. Fear surged through her as she imagined him scolding her for being slow, for being inconvenient. Her throat tightened.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice soft and rushed. “The dress… I’ll be faster.”

Before she could take another step, Muse moved.

He walked back down toward her with calm, unhurried steps. Emily’s breath hitched as he stopped in front of her. She didn’t dare look away.

Then, without warning, he bent down.

In one smooth motion, Muse lifted her into his arms, carrying her in a bridal style as if she weighed nothing at all.

Emily gasped.

Shock flooded her senses, her hands instinctively clutching at his suit. Her face burned as she stared at him, her mind scrambling to understand what was happening.

“M-Mr. Mayers—!” she whispered, flustered. “I—I’m very heavy. You should put me down.”

He didn’t slow.

He didn’t strain.

Instead, he looked down at her, one eyebrow lifting slightly. “Are you doubting my strength?”

Her eyes widened.

“No!” Emily shook her head quickly, panic and embarrassment mixing together. “No, Mr. Mayers. I’m not.”

Her hands tightened awkwardly around his neck, afraid of falling, afraid of touching him too much. She could feel the solid warmth of him beneath her palms, his steady breathing, the quiet confidence in the way he carried her.

They continued up the stairs.

Emily’s heart raced as she found herself staring at his face from so close. She noticed things she hadn’t before—the sharp line of his jaw, the calm intensity in his eyes, the way his expression remained composed even now.

He was… very handsome.

The realization startled her.

She looked away, then back again, unable to stop herself. Her gaze lingered, curious despite her fear, despite everything. It felt dangerous to look at him like this, but she couldn’t help it.

Muse noticed.

“You have your entire life to look at me,” he said calmly. “No need to eat me with your eyes.”

Emily froze.

Her face went completely red, heat rushing to her cheeks so fast she felt dizzy. She lowered her head immediately, mortified.

“I—I’m sorry,” she murmured.

He didn’t comment further.

They reached the top of the stairs and walked down the corridor until he pushed open a large door. His room. It was spacious, elegant, dominated by a massive bed dressed in dark, expensive fabrics.

Muse walked inside and gently placed her down on the bed.

Emily sat stiffly, her dress spreading around her like a cloud.

Muse stepped back, creating distance between them. The silence stretched, thick and unfamiliar.

She clasped her hands together tightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly, eyes lowered. “Mr. Mayers.”

Emily didn’t know what this man expected of her. She didn’t know what kind of wife she was supposed to be. All she knew was that she was here now—inside his house, inside his world. And whatever awaited her next, she would have to face it.

Alone.