PRISON OF SILK AND GOLD

Episode 4-The Quiet Ceremony

Amelia’s POV

The morning of the wedding arrived with a silence that felt heavy, like the air before a storm broke. I stood in the room the estate had prepared for me, the silk of my dress cool against my skin. Sophie paced behind me, her footsteps a nervous rhythm on the marble.

“You look like a queen,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

“I look like a prisoner in a gown,” I answered, and she stopped pacing.

The chapel was small; its walls lined with white flowers that smelled too sweet. The board members sat in the front row, their faces on serious masks. Victor stood at the altar beside Adrian, who did not look at me when I entered. He looked at the door, at the ceiling, at anything but me.

We exchanged words that were not really ours. The registrar spoke of commitment and love, but the contract on the table beside us said nothing of either. When he asked if I would take Adrian as my husband, I said yes. The lie felt sharp in my throat.

Adrian said yes, too. His voice was steady, but his hand, when he took mine, trembled once. I saw it. A small crack in the wall he built around himself.

The ceremony ended quickly. There was no music, no celebration. Just the click of cameras and the rustle of people standing. I felt exposed, like a specimen under glass.

Isabella approached first, her smile thin and sharp. “Welcome to the family,” she said. Her eyes were cold. “Try not to break anything.”

I nodded, not knowing what to say. Before I could answer, she was gone, swallowed by the crowd.

Sophie gripped my arm. “Don’t let her get to you,” she said. “She’s just a jealous bitch.”

“Sophie,” I warned.

“I mean it,” she said. “You’re not one of them. Remember that.”

I wanted to believe her. But as I looked around the room at the faces of the Blackwood family, I felt the weight of their judgment. They watched me, measuring and rating. I was an outsider, a temporary fix, a problem solved with a signature.

After the guests left, Adrian led me to a small room where champagne waited. He did not drink. He stood by the window, watching the garden.

“Do you regret it?” he asked, not looking at me.

“No,” I said. It was the truth. I regretted the choice, but not the outcome. My mother would live.

He turned to me, his gray eyes searching. “You will have what you need. The house, the funds, the care for your mother. That was the agreement.”

“I know,” I said.

“But there are things you cannot have,” he said. “Privacy. Freedom to leave. Trust.”

“Trust wasn’t part of the agreement,” I said.

He nodded once. “No. But it might be dangerous to assume you don’t need it.”

I didn’t understand what he meant, but I didn’t ask. The silence between us stretched, heavy and cold.

Later, Marcus led me to my new room. It was large, with a view of the estate grounds. The bed was made of dark wood, the curtains heavy. A painting hung on the wall—a portrait of a woman who looked like me, but older, colder.

“Who is that?” I asked.

Marcus didn’t answer. He just closed the door and left.

I sat on the bed, the silk of my dress pooling around me. The phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message from an unknown number.

You made a mistake.

I stared at the screen, my heart pounding. Who was watching? Who knew?

I deleted the message, but the words stayed in my mind. A mistake. What kind of mistake? Marrying Adrian? Saving my mother? Or something else?

Sleep didn’t come. I lay in the dark, listening to the house. Somewhere, a door clicked. Somewhere, a footstep echoed. The estate was alive, and it was watching me.

I thought of Daniel, of the way he had walked away. I thought of my mom, of the surgery that would save her. I thought of Adrian, of the tremor in his hand.

And I thought of the portrait on the wall. Who was that woman? Why did she look like me?

The questions circled, unanswerable. The house held its secrets, and I was trapped inside it, bound by a contract I had signed with my own hand.

The wedding was done. The bargain was sealed. But the danger was just beginning.

I closed my eyes, but I didn’t sleep. I waited for the morning, for the light, for the truth.

But the house was quiet. And the silence was louder than any scream.

Three days had passed since Daniel left. Three days since I signed the contract. Three days since I became Mrs. Blackwood.

And now, I was alone in a room that smelled of jasmine and secrets, with a husband who did not trust me, a family that did not want me, and a message that said I had made a mistake.

The Kettle's Song had been the last normal thing. Now, there was only the lock clicking in the dark.

I was in the prison of silk and gold. And the key was in Adrian's hand.