Chapter 2: The House Where Enemies Sleep Together
1059 Words
The first night of marriage was silent.
Not the calming silence of peace, but the kind that presses against your ears until your own thoughts become too loud.
Adrian Vale estate did not sleep.
Neither did I.
The mansion pulsed around us, with security systems humming, guards shifting positions, and cameras blinking in hidden corners. The walls were thick, the doors reinforced, and the windows bulletproof.
A fortress built to keep enemies out.
And now, to keep me in.
---
The bedroom was big enough to be a battlefield.
Cold stone floors. Dark walls. A bed positioned like a command center instead of a place to rest. No photographs. No softness. No signs that love had ever been welcomed here.
Adrian removed his cufflinks and set them carefully on the dresser.
Every movement he made was controlled and efficient.
A man who planned everything.
Including me.
“You can sleep,” he said without turning around.
I stayed standing.
In my wedding dress.
In my cage.
“I don’t sleep well in unfamiliar places,” I replied.
He looked at me slowly.
“You’ll get used to it.”
That wasn’t reassurance.
It was a promise.
---
I felt his gaze like a blade at my throat.
He knew I was measuring exits.
He knew I was tracking cameras.
He knew I was memorizing his habits.
And he let it happen.
That unsettled me more than violence ever could.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked softly.
“Notice what?”
“The way you walked down the aisle,” he said. “Like someone returning to finish something.”
I met his eyes.
“You taught me confidence,” I replied.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I did.”
Then he turned away.
The conversation ended, but the tension remained.
---
The next morning, the house woke before dawn.
So did I.
I slipped out of bed quietly, my bare feet making no noise on the floor. Adrian was already awake, sitting at the desk near the window, reviewing documents as if marriage hadn’t changed his routine at all.
Of course it hadn’t.
Men like him didn’t change.
They adapted.
“You’re early,” he said without looking up.
“I don’t like sleeping,” I replied.
He finally glanced at me.
“I know.”
That stopped me.
He knew too much.
Again.
---
Breakfast was served in a dining room larger than my old apartment.
Staff moved silently and professionally. No one met my eyes for too long.
They knew who I was.
Or at least, who I was supposed to be.
Adrian sat at the head of the table.
I sat beside him.
Close enough to feel his presence.
Close enough to be reminded that this was no partnership.
It was ownership.
“You’ll stay here,” he said casually. “You won’t leave the estate without me.”
“I didn’t ask to,” I replied.
“Good,” he said. “Because asking wouldn’t change the answer.”
He sipped his coffee.
“People will test you.”
“People already have.”
“They’ll look for weakness.”
“I won’t give them any.”
He smiled faintly.
“That’s what I’m counting on.”
---
By midday, the house was alive.
Visitors, lieutenants, business partners.
Men who smelled like violence and money.
They looked at me with interest.
With curiosity.
With calculation.
Adrian never left my side.
A hand at my back.
A touch at my waist.
A quiet reminder.
Mine.
One man approached too close.
Adrian’s voice dropped instantly.
“Careful.”
The man stepped back.
Fear flashed across his face.
I noticed.
Filed it away.
Power dynamics were everything here.
And I was at the center of them.
---
That afternoon, Adrian led me through the lower levels of the estate.
“This is where decisions are made,” he said, opening a secured door.
I stepped inside.
Screens covered the walls.
Maps. Numbers. Names.
The heart of his empire.
“You’re showing me this?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my wife.”
That answer felt too easy.
Too clean.
“And because,” he added, watching my reflection in the glass, “if you ever betray me, I’ll know exactly how you did it.”
Ah.
There it was.
---
That night, I stood alone in the bathroom, staring at my reflection.
The woman in the mirror wore silk.
Diamonds.
A wedding ring heavy enough to bruise.
But beneath it all—
I saw the girl he left bleeding.
The bullet scar along my ribs.
The night I learned survival wasn’t mercy.
It was defiance.
I pressed my fingers against the ring.
You created me.
And I will end you.
---
When I returned to the bedroom, Adrian was waiting.
“You didn’t ask for guards,” he said.
“I don’t need them.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I married you.”
I looked at him sharply.
“You don’t marry someone you don’t trust.”
“I don’t trust you,” he said calmly. “I trust your instincts.”
That was worse.
He approached.
Slowly.
Carefully.
“You could’ve killed me already,” he continued. “Poisoned me. Slit my throat.”
“I could have,” I agreed.
“Why didn’t you?”
I met his gaze.
“Because I want you to see it coming.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
Approval?
No.
Interest.
---
Later, when the lights were off and the room was in shadow, Adrian spoke again.
“You still hate me.”
“Yes,” I said honestly.
He exhaled slowly.
“Good.”
I frowned. “Good?”
“Hate keeps you sharp,” he said. “Love makes people sloppy.”
I turned onto my side.
Then added quietly, “You taught me that too.”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
For the first time since I arrived—
He didn’t reply.
---
I lay awake long after he fell asleep.
Counting breaths.
Timing patterns.
Learning him.
He slept like a man who trusted his walls.
He was wrong.
Because I was already inside them.
And I wasn’t here to be his wife.
I was here to be his end.
- Writer
