Chapter 2: The Stranger’s Mansion
664 Words
The car ride to Richard’s mansion was silent.
He drove.
She watched the city blur past her window, each building a reminder of how far from home she’d drifted.
When they arrived, the gates opened to reveal a massive estate — white marble, silver trim, modern and soulless. Just like him.
“This is your room,” Richard said as he led her upstairs, opening a door with a swipe of his card. “Mine is across the hall. Respect boundaries, and we won’t have problems.”
Rita stepped inside. The room was lavish—silk sheets, golden accents, a chandelier glittering above her head.
A golden prison.
“Are there rules?” she asked, standing with arms folded.
He paused, glancing back at her. “Yes. Rule one: Don’t fall in love with me.”
Rita gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’re not exactly prince charming, Richard. I think I’ll survive.”
A corner of his mouth lifted—almost a smirk—but it vanished too quickly.
He turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.
Rita sat on the bed, the silence heavier than the diamond ring on her finger.
She was alone. Married to a man who didn’t want a wife.
And for the first time since the wedding, she allowed a tear to fall.
(Rita’s POV)
Dear Diary,
I don’t even know why I’m writing this. It’s not like words can save me from what’s coming tomorrow. Still, it helps… to write. To let these feelings exist somewhere other than my chest.
Tomorrow, I sign a marriage contract.
Not a love story.
Not a fairy tale.
Just paper and promises.
Mama used to say that love should feel like home. But what kind of home starts with a signature and silence?
I’ve only spoken to Richard Hooked twice. Once at my father’s office, when I sat in a too-small chair in front of two towering men who talked over my life like it was a spreadsheet. And then again at that fancy gala in Victoria Island, where I wore a borrowed gown and tried not to cry in the restroom. He saw me. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he did. His eyes were too sharp to miss anything.
They say he’s a billionaire. Powerful. Ruthless. Some even say he has no heart.
But that night… he looked at me like I was a real person.
Still, that doesn’t change what this is. I’m being traded—for debts, for family pride, for a future I didn’t ask for. My father’s company is sinking, and I’m the lifeboat.
And maybe I should hate Richard for agreeing to it. But I can’t.
Because deep down, I don’t think he’s the villain.
There’s a kind of quiet in him. Not cold, exactly—but watchful. He doesn’t speak unless he means it. And when he does speak, people listen. Including me.
Maybe he sees this marriage as a transaction. Maybe I do too.
But part of me… the foolish, hidden part… wonders if something else is waiting inside it.
What if we can grow into this arrangement? What if it’s not all rules and distance? What if we surprise each other?
Maybe I’m too hopeful.
But I don’t want to live a life where hope is a weakness.
Tonight, I pack my bags. Not just my clothes, but the parts of myself I’m afraid to show. My books. My sketches. My fears.
Tomorrow, I walk into a house that isn’t mine and marry a man I barely know.
But maybe—just maybe—I’ll find my voice there.
Maybe I won’t just be the girl who was given away.
Maybe I’ll become the woman who built something out of nothing.
And if Richard Hooked has a heart beneath that perfect suit and polished name…
He’ll see me.
Not just as his wife.
But as Rita Daniels.
And I’ll make sure the world never forgets that name again.
- Writer
