Into His World
737 Words
The car arrived before Ava was ready.
A sleek black Mercedes pulled up outside her apartment, spotless and intimidating. It matched him perfectly — silent, sharp, and expensive.
The driver, dressed in a black suit, stepped out and opened the door. “Miss Daniels?”
She stood frozen on the porch, her single suitcase in hand. It was all she could carry — all she owned now. Her father hugged her tightly, his arms shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
Ava nodded but said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
She slid into the car, and just like that… she was on her way to start a new life.
A life that wasn’t really hers anymore.
---
The Blackwood mansion sat at the edge of the city, surrounded by gates and secrets. Cold stone. Tall walls. No flowers, no color — just dominance.
When the car stopped at the entrance, the staff lined up in silence. No smiles. No warmth.
A tall woman in a gray blouse approached the car as Ava stepped out. “Miss Daniels. I’m Elise, Mr. Blackwood’s assistant. Please follow me.”
No welcome. No emotion.
As they walked through the grand hallway, Ava's heels echoed on marble floors. Paintings hung on every wall — soulless, abstract pieces that reminded her of their owner. Everything was perfect, expensive, and lifeless.
They passed a long dining table that could seat twenty. A chandelier sparkled overhead like it didn’t belong in real life.
And at the far end of the room... Jace Blackwood stood, pouring himself a glass of wine.
---
He didn’t smile when he saw her. In fact, he barely looked up.
“You’re late.”
Ava blinked. “The car came at 9 a.m. Just like your assistant said.”
He finally turned to face her, sharp and composed in a navy-blue suit. “Then I suppose I expected more urgency.”
She bit back a response.
Elise cleared her throat. “Miss Daniels has arrived. Shall I have her things taken to the guest wing?”
“No,” Jace said simply. “She’s not a guest. Take them to the master bedroom.”
Ava’s heart skipped.
“What?” she asked.
His eyes didn’t waver. “We’re married now. Or will be, officially, by tomorrow. I expect you to act the part.”
“But—”
“No one is asking you to share a bed with me,” he interrupted coldly. “The room is large enough to avoid each other.”
It wasn’t the sleeping arrangement that scared her. It was the loss of space. Of privacy. Of freedom.
“Fine,” she muttered.
---
That evening, Ava sat at the long dinner table, alone on one side while Jace sat at the other, scrolling through his phone like she wasn’t even there.
The silence was unbearable.
“So this is how it’s going to be?” she finally said.
He looked up, unbothered. “How do you want it to be?”
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “Maybe… less like a hostage situation?”
He raised a brow. “You signed the contract willingly, Ava. Let’s not start pretending this is something it’s not.”
She stared at him. “Why do you even need a wife, Jace? You don’t love me. You don’t even like me.”
He leaned back in his chair, swirling the wine in his glass.
“My reasons are none of your concern. All you need to know is that I need you to play your part — smile in public, hold my hand when required, and keep your mouth shut.”
The coldness in his voice made her chest tighten. She had never felt so small.
“I’m not your puppet,” she said quietly.
“No. You’re my wife,” he replied. “There’s a difference.”
Ava pushed her plate away, appetite gone. “I’m going to my room.”
As she stood, he spoke again — softer this time.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
She paused at the doorway, back turned. “That depends on you, Jace.”
Then she walked away, leaving behind a man who looked untouchable — but underneath it all, something flick
ered in his eyes.
Maybe regret.
Maybe guilt.
Or maybe... nothing at all.
---
End of Chapter 3
- Writer
