The harsh morning sunlight pierced through the guest room window, burning Chloe's swollen eyes. A team of makeup artists shoved her down in front of the vanity. The cold bristles of a foundation brush swept mechanically across her skin.
She stared at the mirror. The woman looking back looked like a lifeless porcelain doll. A wave of sickness hit her stomach. She shoved the makeup palette away, sending it clattering across the table.
The door swung open. Sarah walked in holding a tablet. She read out Martha's dropping oxygen levels from the morning medical report. The threat instantly snuffed out the tiny spark of rebellion in Chloe's chest.
Chloe clamped her jaw shut. She let the women pull the heavy, layered wedding gown over her head. The tight corset dug into her ribs, restricting her lungs. It felt like a physical chain.
Once the veil was pinned in place, two guards escorted her out. They practically shoved her into the back of a black Lincoln stretch limousine. The heavy door slammed shut, sealing her inside.
Chloe watched the Long Island scenery blur past the tinted windows. She gripped the silk fabric of her dress. Her nails pressed hard enough to leave deep, permanent creases in the material.
The limo turned onto the Upper East Side and passed through the massive stone gates of the Sterling estate. High stone walls and security cameras mounted on every corner made the hairs on Chloe's arms stand up.
The vehicle stopped. A butler in a crisp tuxedo, Alfred, pulled the door open. He looked down at Chloe. His eyes held a mix of quiet pity and cold calculation.
Chloe gathered the heavy skirts in her hands and stepped out. She walked up the cold marble steps. The sharp click of her heels echoed in the cavernous foyer, making her feel incredibly small.
Victoria, her new step-mother-in-law, descended the sweeping spiral staircase. She stopped a few steps from the bottom, looking down her nose at Chloe. Her gaze swept over Chloe like she was inspecting a cheap piece of meat.
Victoria held out a thick stack of papers. It was a prenuptial and non-disclosure agreement. The weight of the document settled into Chloe's hands, heavy with absolute authority.
Chloe scanned the dense paragraphs. If they divorced, she would leave with nothing, and she was legally bound to take the family's secrets to the grave. The harsh terms made her suck in a sharp breath.
Victoria let out a cold laugh. She told Chloe not to dream of climbing the social ladder. The biting words sparked a sudden heat in Chloe's chest. She straightened her spine, refusing to shrink.
Chloe snatched the pen from Victoria's hand. She signed her name with quick, aggressive strokes and tossed the pen back onto the silver tray. The clatter made Victoria blink in surprise.
Victoria scoffed. She ordered a maid to take Chloe up to the master bedroom on the top floor. She warned Chloe to remember her place and take good care of the cripple.
The maid led Chloe up the stairs and down a long, dim hallway. Antique oil paintings lined the walls. The painted eyes seemed to follow her, sending a chill down her spine.
The maid stopped in front of heavy, double mahogany doors and pushed them open. A thick wave of sterile alcohol mixed with expensive cedarwood hit Chloe's face.
Chloe stepped into the dim room. Heavy blackout curtains blocked out the sun completely. The heavy, stagnant air made her chest tighten.
She walked past a decorative folding screen. Her eyes landed on the massive medical bed in the center of the room. Her heart rate spiked instantly.
A large man lay motionless on the mattress. Several clear tubes ran from his arms to the machines beside the bed. The rhythmic beeping of the monitors sounded like a countdown in the dead silence.
Chloe took a slow step closer. The man wore a custom silver mask that covered the upper half of his face. The exposed lower half was pale, but the jawline was sharp and perfectly carved.
Her eyes moved down to his neck. Thick, angry burn scars crawled up from his collarbone, disappearing under the mask. The violent sight made her gasp. She slapped a hand over her mouth.
The maid stood at the door. She coldly announced that this was her husband, stepped back into the hall, and pulled the door shut. The heavy thud of the mahogany sealing them in echoed in the room. Chloe felt entirely suffocated, as if she were trapped with him.
Chloe looked around at the cold, clinical equipment. A sudden, heavy wave of sadness washed over her. They were both prisoners here. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed.
She reached out, her hand trembling. She wanted to touch his cold fingers resting on top of the blanket. Just before her skin met his, she pulled back.
She dragged a heavy wooden chair to the bedside and sat down. She looked at the unmoving man. She whispered that she was a throwaway too. Her voice cracked, thick with unshed tears.
In the dim light, the man's dark eyelashes seemed to twitch. Chloe gasped and jumped to her feet. Her legs hit the chair, sending it crashing backward onto the floor.
The loud bang echoed off the walls. Chloe stared hard at the man's face, her chest heaving. He didn't move a muscle. The monitors kept their steady rhythm.
She rubbed her temples, letting out a shaky breath. She told herself the stress was making her see things. The tight muscles in her neck slowly relaxed.
Chloe let out a resigned sigh. She walked into the massive walk-in closet to strip off the suffocating wedding dress. She decided to accept her fate and take care of this broken man.
