TRAPPED IN THE MARRIAGE GAME

CHAPTER SEVEN

*Zayd’s POV*

She was getting too curious. Too fast.

I had underestimated her.

When I left the study unlocked, I didn’t expect her to wander in. I certainly didn’t expect her to find that passport. It wasn’t meant to be seen...not yet. Not until she was too invested, too emotionally tangled to walk away.

Zara.

Innocent? Yes.

Naive? Absolutely.

But perceptive? Sharper than I’d anticipated. And that was dangerous.

She confronted me. Calmly, but I saw the storm behind her eyes. I played it cool, spun a half-truth about a clerical error on a fake certificate. She nodded, hesitated, and eventually let it go....,or at least pretended to.

But I knew better. She didn’t believe me. Not fully.

So, that night, I acted.

I reopened our six-month agreement and scanned each clause like it was a corporate merger. Then I added a new line:

*Clause 13: Restricted Access*

For the duration of the contract, the study and east wing of the residence are offlimits to Zara. Any breach of this clause will be viewed as a violation of the agreement and subject to disciplinary consequences.

I didn’t care if the wording felt harsh. I needed control. Clean, cold, calculated. The way I operated best.

She could not be allowed to dig deeper...not into my files, not into my past, and certainly not into the real reason I needed this marriage.

If she did…

If she found out everything…

This entire plan would crumble. My inheritance. My name. My leverage. Gone.

And if she dared cross that line again?

Then I’d abandon the pretense. No more playing the patient gentleman.

I’d become the man I was raised to be. Ruthless. Strategic. And entirely unbothered by emotional outbursts.

If I couldn’t make her stay with kindness, then I’d make her stay through control.

Poor Zara didn’t know it yet but she was already trapped.

The next morning, I found her in the sunroom, curled up on the couch with a book she wasn’t really reading. She looked up the moment I stepped in, eyes guarded, cautious.

Good. She was starting to learn.

“I’ve made a small amendment to our agreement,” I said flatly, holding out the neatly bound document.

She didn’t move at first, then reached for it hesitantly. I watched her eyes flick across the lines. She was scanning, flipping, until her fingers paused. *Clause 13.*

Her brows knit together.

“The study and the east wing?” she asked. Her voice was soft but edged with disbelief.

“Yes,” I said. “Private areas. I realized I hadn’t set clear boundaries. It’s nothing personal ,just protection. For both of us.”

She stared at the page, lips parting as if to protest. “Punishment?” she echoed.

“Consequences,” I corrected smoothly. “To keep things respectful. Transparent.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“It’s not about trust,” I said, stepping closer. “It’s about understanding limits. That room contains sensitive documents...business, legal. Things I can’t risk being misunderstood.”

She looked away, and I saw her jaw tighten.

“You think I’m going to snoop?”

“I think you already have.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine.

I didn’t flinch.

“We had an agreement, Zara. I gave you space, patience. All I ask in return is that you don’t cross certain lines.”

She didn’t respond.

She didn’t need to. The silence between us said enough.

This was me reclaiming control and she knew it.

If she wanted to play curious little wife, she’d learn that every action has a cost

She didn’t sign it right away.

She read the clause over and over, like she was trying to decode some hidden message between the lines. But there was nothing hidden. I’d made it clear. Polite, firm, legal. Just how I needed it to be.

“I’ll need time to go over this,” she finally said, her voice quiet but laced with something sharper.

Suspicion? Defiance?

I gave her a small nod. “Take all the time you need. Just remember, this house has rules for both of us. It’s not personal.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not completely.

But it wasn’t the truth either.

Because it was personal. The moment she stepped into my study, touched things that weren’t meant for her, I knew the line had been crossed. If she ever stumbled into the east wing... it wouldn’t just be inconvenient. It would ruin everything.

I watched her from across the table barefoot, wrapped in her satin robe, her face unreadable. She looked so delicate in that moment, but I knew better now. Zara wasn’t just sweet and wide-eyed. She was curious. Smart. Brave. A dangerous combination for someone living under a house of carefully guarded secrets.

I needed to stay ahead of her.

Even if that meant building more walls.

Even if, deep down, I didn’t want to..

*Zara's POV *

As the door clicked shut behind me, I stood there in silence.contract still in my hand, heart still somewhere between disbelief and anger.

So this was it?

This was marriage?

Rules. Clauses. Restrictions. A partnership built like a business transaction, not a relationship. No warmth. No kindness. Just… terms and conditions.

I walked slowly to the bed and sat down, the paper trembling in my hands. Clause 13 echoed in my mind*“Restricted access. Violation may result in punishment.”*

Punishment? What kind of man talks like that?

He didn’t even flinch when I questioned him. Just stood there composed, detached and like my reaction didn’t matter.

What did he think I was? A problem to manage?

I felt sick.

So many thoughts raced through my mind at once. Was this why he married me? Just to control me? Use me for whatever plan he had?

My fingers tightened around the contract. I hadn’t signed it yet.

I still could walk away.

But then I thought of my parents… of the celebration… of the hope in my mother’s eyes as she hugged me at the engagement. The promises. The expectations.

I felt the weight again the crushing pressure of everyone’s dreams riding on my silence.

And beneath that… another whisper. One I hated.

*Was it me?*

Was I not attractive enough? Is that why he didn’t want to share a room?

Why he wanted distance? Boundaries?

I stared at my reflection across the room. I didn’t feel like a bride. I felt like a burden.

My chest tightened.

This wasn’t how I imagined any of it.

But here I was married, confused, and staring at a contract like it was a verdict.

What do I do now?