Ember's POV
After Leaving Ethan's Room
I walked through the dim hallway, numb.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
At the far end, hidden behind a dusty curtain, I found a narrow door.
I pushed it open.
The room was small.
A crooked bed, a cracked dresser, a bathroom with a half-broken door.
Dust covered everything like a second skin.
It was enough.
I didn't need comfort. I needed space to breathe. To survive.
Closing the door behind me, I leaned against it for a second.
No scent of him here.
No anger, no bruised pride.
Just silence.
I crossed the room and dropped onto the mattress.
It groaned under my weight, sending a cloud of dust into the stale air.
I coughed, waving it away.
This forgotten space matched exactly how I felt inside—discarded.
Invisible.
I stared at the cracked ceiling.
The cold seeped through the thin sheet, straight into my bones, but I didn't move.
Didn't cry.
Tears were wasted here.
Later that night, when the house fell into heavy silence, I rose.
I found an old rag in the bathroom, dampened it under the icy tap, and began to clean.
Every swipe over the cracked furniture erased a little of the filth.
Not just from the room.
From me.
I cleaned the dresser. The bedframe. The windows that barely opened.
I scrubbed until my hands ached.
This place wouldn't be a prison.
Not if I could help it.
I wasn't living for Ethan Hart.
I wasn't breaking for him.
He could shove me into the darkest corner of his house.
But he wouldn't bury me.
By the time I collapsed back onto the bed, the room smelled less of rot and more of cold, clean stone.
I pulled the thin blanket around myself and stared into the dark, my heart steady.
Three days passed in a blur.
I didn't see Damian, didn't speak to anyone.
I ate only when hunger gnawed too deep, slipping into the kitchen to grab whatever I could find.
I moved like a shadow through the house, invisible, silent.
Once, when Ethan wasn't around, I snuck into his room and retrieved my backpack.
The only thing that still felt like mine.
Tonight, as I sat on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, a sharp knock jolted me upright.
I crossed the room and opened the door.
A woman stood there, dressed in a crisp maid's uniform.
Her face was blank, her voice mechanical.
"Mr. Hart is looking for you. In his office. Please follow me."
When I reached the office, I froze.
Richard Hart was already there, seated calmly across from Ethan.
Ethan sat behind his massive desk, his face cold and unreadable.
The air was thick, heavy with unspoken tension.
"Sit," Richard said, his tone firm and leaving no room for argument.
I walked stiffly to the chair and sat down, keeping my eyes low, my hands clenched tightly in my lap.
I could feel Ethan's gaze burning into me, sharp and unforgiving, but I refused to meet his eyes.
The room fell silent.
I lifted my chin and looked directly into Richard Hart's sharp eyes.
"Why are you looking for me, Mr. Hart?" I asked, my voice steady.
Richard's voice cut through the thick silence with chilling finality.
"I already said you both have to stay together, but clearly, neither of you heard me," he said, his tone icy. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing on both Ethan and me. "From tonight onward, you will share a room. I've already made arrangements."
I felt the blood drain from my face as the weight of his words sank in. This was real. He wasn't joking.
Ethan scoffed, his anger palpable, his expression a mask of pure contempt.
"Really? The space near me is for Veronica, not for this wench," he spat, his words venomous.
I didn't flinch. I refused to show weakness, even if every fiber of my being wanted to scream. His words didn't matter. Richard's command was the only thing that counted now.
Richard didn't even blink at Ethan's words. He remained calm, unbothered by the harshness. "It doesn't matter what you think, Ethan," he replied coolly. "This is non-negotiable."
My heart hammered against my chest, and I found it hard to breathe. I wanted to lash out, to tell Richard where he could shove his orders. But I knew that would only make things worse.
Richard's eyes shifted to me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he continued.
"I've also arranged for your honeymoon tickets in two days and tomorrow you both will have photoshoot for magazine," he added, his voice smooth and authoritative. "You'll go wherever necessary to sell this fantasy."
A cold, empty laugh almost escaped me, but I held it in, biting my tongue. Honeymoon. How did he expect this to work? What kind of sick joke was this?
Ethan's voice cut through the air next, low and furious.
"This is bullshit," he muttered, standing up abruptly and pushing his chair back with a violent scrape. His fists clenched, his jaw tightening in frustration. "I married her. Isn't that enough for your damn business?"
Richard's gaze remained steady. "One scandalous marriage announcement isn't enough to fix everything, Ethan. The investors are still nervous. The stocks are unstable." He paused, letting the words sink in before he continued with cold precision.
"You need to sell the illusion. You need to show the public that everything is stable. That this marriage is real."
Richard's gaze shifted back to me, his voice lowering.
"And you," he said, his words slicing through the air, "will smile. You will hold his hand. You will act like he is your entire world. Whether you like it or not."
My chest tightened as the reality of what he was saying hit me. I opened my mouth to protest, but his next words stopped me cold.
"If you fail to do this," he continued softly, "i will make sure you will never get scholarship or job..Everything you've worked for—will vanish. Just like that."
I swallowed hard, fighting the tears that burned at the back of my eyes. They had me cornered. Trapped. I was powerless.
Richard's gaze hardened as he stood up, smoothing his suit jacket.
"I said, understood?" Richard's voice became sharper.
"Understood," I whispered, my voice hollow, the weight of surrender heavy on my shoulders.
Ethan muttered something under his breath and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so hard the windows rattled. The sound echoed in my ears, a reminder of how much I loathed this whole situation.
I stood frozen for a moment, struggling to swallow the scream that was lodged in my throat. But I turned, walking silently out of Richard's office, my feet heavy as if they were dragging me through quicksand.