Trapped in His World
1384 Words
CHAPTER THREE
The car ride was quiet.
Too quiet.
I sat by the window, watching the city pass by, trying not to think too much. But that was impossible. My mind kept going back to what just happened.
I got married.
Just like that.
No family. No ceremony. No time to even process it.
Just a signature… and everything changed.
I glanced at the man sitting beside me.
Ethan Blackwood.
My husband.
Even thinking the word felt strange.
He hadn’t said much since we left the building. Actually, he hadn’t said anything at all. Just sat there like this was normal.
Like people did this every day.
“You’re really not going to say anything?” I asked.
Nothing.
Then—
“What do you want me to say?” he replied, not even looking at me.
I frowned.
“I don’t know… something?”
“You signed,” he said.
“That’s not a conversation.”
“It’s the only one that matters.”
I looked away again.
Talking to him felt like talking to a wall. A very calm, very annoying wall.
Still, I tried again.
“What happens now?”
“We go home.”
Home.
I almost laughed.
“That’s not my home.”
“It is now.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest feel tight.
Like I had just lost something without realizing it.
I didn’t respond after that.
There wasn’t much else to say.
—
The house was… big.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Actually, no—huge.
The kind of place you only see in movies or online, where everything looks too perfect to be real.
Tall gates. Long driveway. Clean lines. No noise.
Even the air felt different.
I stepped out of the car slowly, looking around.
“This is where you live?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I nodded slowly.
Of course it was.
Everything about him screamed this kind of place.
We walked inside, and it was exactly what I expected.
Clean. Quiet. Expensive.
And cold.
That was the word that kept coming to mind.
Cold.
It didn’t feel like a home.
It felt like a place you stayed because you had to.
Not because you wanted to.
People moved around in the background—staff, I guessed—but no one really spoke. No one looked directly at me for more than a second.
It was like I wasn’t supposed to be there.
Or like they already knew something I didn’t.
“How many people work here?” I asked.
“Enough.”
That wasn’t helpful.
But I didn’t expect it to be.
He led me up a set of stairs and down a long hallway before stopping in front of a door.
“This is your room.”
I blinked.
“My room?”
“Yes.”
I crossed my arms slightly.
“Not ours?”
He looked at me then.
Fully.
“This is a contract,” he said. “Not a relationship.”
Right.
Of course.
“Good,” I said. “Because I wasn’t planning on pretending.”
Something flickered in his expression.
But it was gone too fast to read.
I walked into the room.
It was… nice.
Too nice.
Big bed. Clean sheets. Large windows. Everything perfectly placed like no one had ever used it before.
It didn’t feel like mine.
It felt like it was waiting for someone.
“I had it prepared,” he said from behind me.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
I nodded slowly.
That made sense.
Everything about this felt planned.
“This is temporary,” I said.
“Yes.”
“One year.”
“Yes.”
“And then I leave.”
A small pause.
“Yes.”
That hesitation again.
I turned to look at him.
“You’re not very convincing.”
“I don’t need to be.”
Of course he didn’t.
“Dinner is at eight,” he added.
“I’m not hungry.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
I rolled my eyes slightly.
“I’m not one of your employees.”
“No,” he said.
“You’re something else.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Like what?”
He looked at me for a second.
Then—
“A problem.”
That wasn’t what I expected.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll find out.”
I frowned.
“I don’t like that answer.”
“You don’t have to.”
And just like that, he turned and walked out.
Leaving me alone.
Again.
—
I sat on the edge of the bed for a while after he left.
Just thinking.
Trying to process everything.
This didn’t feel real.
It felt like I had stepped into someone else’s life by mistake.
I stood up and walked over to the window.
The view was nice. The entire property stretched out below, quiet and controlled.
No chaos.
No noise.
Nothing like the life I came from.
I should’ve felt lucky.
Instead, I felt trapped.
—
Dinner was awkward.
The table was too big for just two people.
We sat across from each other like we were in some kind of meeting.
Not a marriage.
“You’re staring,” he said.
“So are you.”
That made him look up.
“You’re adjusting faster than I expected.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
I let out a small breath.
“Not with you.”
Something about that made him pause.
Just for a second.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
And something changed.
Not a lot.
But enough for me to notice.
“Stay here,” he said, standing up.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
And then he walked away.
No explanation.
No nothing.
I sat there for a second.
Then looked down at my plate.
Then back at the hallway he disappeared into.
He told me to stay.
But honestly…
I wasn’t good at following orders.
Especially not his.
I stood up quietly and moved toward the hallway.
The house was still silent.
Too silent.
I followed the direction he went, keeping my steps light.
Then I heard his voice.
Low.
Serious.
“…I told you not to call me here.”
I stopped.
“…she doesn’t know anything.”
My heart skipped.
Who was he talking about?
Me?
“…I’ll handle it.”
Silence.
Then the call ended.
I took a step back—
But it was too late.
The door opened.
And there he was.
Looking right at me.
His expression didn’t change.
But something in his eyes did.
“How long were you standing there?” he asked.
My throat felt dry.
“Not long.”
That was a lie.
And I think he knew it.
He stepped closer.
Slow.
Calm.
“You’re already breaking rules,” he said.
“I wasn’t—”
“Listening?” he finished.
I crossed my arms.
“You’re hiding something.”
“And you’re asking questions you shouldn’t.”
“I’m your wife.”
“On paper.”
“And in real life?”
He stopped in front of me.
Close enough to make my heart beat a little faster.
“In real life,” he said quietly,
“you’re in danger.”
A chill ran down my spine.
“From what?”
He held my gaze for a few seconds.
Then—
“That’s not something you need to know yet.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s not supposed to be.”
Frustration built up again.
“You don’t get to pull me into this and then shut me out.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“I just did.”
Silence.
Tense.
Uncomfortable.
“Go back to your room,” he said.
“I’m not a child.”
“No,” he replied.
“You’re a risk.”
That word again.
I frowned.
“For who?”
A small pause.
Then—
“For everyone.”
That didn’t make me feel any better.
If anything, it made things worse.
Because now I knew one thing for sure—
Whatever I had stepped into…
It was bigger than me.
And I didn’t understand any of it yet.
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