Chapter 3
831 Words
Sienna’s POV
The sterile scent of the hospital still clung to me as I sat in the back of the sleek black car, staring out the tinted window at the city skyline. It felt surreal—like I had stepped into someone else’s life.
The woman who had been waiting for me—my supposed mother-in-law—had insisted on taking me home. Home. As if I even knew what that was anymore.
I shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at her. She sat with perfect poise, her fingers clasped together in her lap, watching me with an unreadable expression.
“You haven’t said much,” she finally spoke, her voice smooth yet firm.
I hesitated before responding. “I don’t know what to say.”
A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. “That’s understandable. You’ve been through a lot.”
Understatement of the century.
I swallowed, my fingers curling against the soft fabric of my hospital gown. “Where are we going?”
“To the Campbell estate,” she answered simply. “Your home.”
My home. Those two words sent a shiver down my spine.
As if sensing my discomfort, she added, “You don’t have to accept everything right away. Just take it one step at a time.”
One step at a time.
The car slowed as we entered a gated property, and my breath hitched. The mansion that loomed ahead was unlike anything I had ever seen—modern yet timeless, all glass, marble, and sheer power. The kind of place Devon used to dream about but never could afford.
The car came to a smooth stop. A butler rushed forward to open the door, but I hesitated. This wasn’t my world. It never had been.
“Sienna.” The woman’s voice was softer now. “Come inside.”
I took a breath and stepped out. The moment my feet touched the pristine driveway, a voice cut through the air.
“Well, well. Look who’s finally awake.”
I turned sharply, my stomach twisting as my eyes landed on a tall figure leaning casually against a black luxury car.
Campbell Nicholas.
If I thought the mansion was intimidating, it was nothing compared to him. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, he exuded an aura of ruthless authority. His steel-gray eyes met mine, assessing, unreadable.
I straightened my spine, refusing to be intimidated. “You’re Campbell Nicholas.”
His lips curved slightly. “And you’re my wife.”
The words sent a shock through me. I wanted to protest, to demand an explanation, but he was already walking toward me.
“We have much to discuss,” he said smoothly. “Inside.”
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before following him.
The mansion was even grander inside—vaulted ceilings, chandeliers, marble floors that gleamed under the soft lighting. But I barely noticed any of it. My focus was solely on the man who now held the key to my fate.
Campbell led me to a sitting room, where he gestured for me to take a seat. I remained standing.
“You were in a coma for three months,” he began, getting straight to the point. “During that time, circumstances required me to take responsibility for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Circumstances?”
He studied me for a long moment before answering. “Let’s just say… your misfortune aligned with my needs.”
My heart pounded. “Are you saying you married me out of convenience?”
He didn’t deny it.
I let out a bitter laugh. “How ironic. One man used me and threw me away. Another picked me up and made me his wife without my consent.”
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
I crossed my arms. “So what now? Am I supposed to play the role of a happy wife?”
“You’re free to do as you please,” he said coolly. “But for now, you’re legally my wife. And until I decide otherwise, that won’t change.”
I bristled. “Until you decide?”
He met my glare with a calm, unyielding stare. “Yes.”
Something inside me snapped. I had been powerless before—tossed aside, betrayed, manipulated. But I refused to let that happen again.
“You may have married me while I was unconscious,” I said, voice steady, “but don’t mistake me for someone who will be controlled.”
For the first time, something flickered in his gaze. Amusement? Respect? I couldn’t tell.
“Good,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t want a weak wife.”
Before I could respond, a sharp knock interrupted us. A butler stepped inside, his face carefully neutral.
“Sir, Mr. Miller has arrived.”
My breath caught.
Devon.
Campbell’s expression remained unreadable as he turned to me. “Shall we give your ex-husband a proper welcome?”
I clenched my fists.
This was just the beginning.
- Writer
