Heart At Knifepoint

The air in the grand living room of the Knowles mansion was thick with tension. Amy Shaw stood awkwardly near the entrance, her fingers tightening around the delicate fabric of her wedding dress. The lace gown, a symbol of new beginnings for most brides, felt more like a shackle to her. Across the room, Ethan Knowles lounged on the leather sofa, his cobalt blue eyes scanning her with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"I assume the ceremony was to your satisfaction," Ethan drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He didn't bother standing to welcome her into what was now, legally and technically, her home.

Amy squared her shoulders, trying to maintain her composure. "It was... fine," she replied, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her.

Ethan smirked, a cruel curve of his lips. "Good. Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's get one thing straight." He reached for a folder resting on the coffee table and pulled out a single sheet of paper. "These are the rules. Memorize them. Follow them."

Amy stepped forward hesitantly, her heels clicking against the polished marble floor. She accepted the paper he held out, her eyes scanning the neatly typed list. It wasn't long before her hands began to tremble with indignation.

Do not interfere with my personal life.

Do not enter my room without permission.

Do not speak to me unless spoken to.

You are not to bring anyone into this house.

The list went on, each point more demeaning than the last. Amy's jaw tightened, and she looked up to meet Ethan's gaze. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm very serious," Ethan replied, leaning back against the sofa, his arms spread arrogantly along the backrest. "This isn't a marriage, Amy. It's a transaction. You're here to fulfill a deal, not play house."

Amy folded the paper deliberately and set it on the table between them. "I'm not signing this."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her defiance. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you when you overstep your bounds."

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wasn't here by choice, but she refused to let this man strip away her dignity. "If you want a puppet, Ethan, you married the wrong woman."

For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes-surprise, perhaps-but it was gone as quickly as it came. He stood abruptly, towering over her, his athletic frame casting a shadow that felt almost suffocating. "We'll see how long that attitude lasts."

Without another word, Ethan strode out of the room, leaving Amy standing there, her heart pounding in her chest. As the sound of his footsteps faded, she let out a shaky breath and glanced around the cavernous room. The mansion was breathtaking, its opulence almost overwhelming, but to Amy, it felt cold and unwelcoming-a reflection of the man she had just married.

---

Hours later, Amy sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the guest room assigned to her. Her suitcase lay open on the floor, its contents spilling out in a chaotic heap. She had unpacked only the essentials, too drained to do more. Outside, the San Diego sunset bathed the room in warm hues of orange and gold, but the beauty of the scene was lost on her.