Prologue
A palace ballroom drowning in golden light. Laughter rings hollow as champagne flows like venom. She stands at the center, draped in crimson silk and ancestral expectation. Her eyes—wide, glassy—search for escape, but find none. Her grandparents stand proudly nearby, oblivious to her breaking heart.
someone
You will marry him
someone
For our legacy. For our name
Across the room, he watches her with a face carved from stone. Cold. Unreadable. The infamous, wealthy businessman cloaked in secrets. No smile, no vow of love. Just a signature on a contract and the tightening of a chain neither can see.
A cage, disguised as a wedding
Silent dinner table.
They sit opposite each other. Strangers. Married in name, divided by doubt.
She doesn’t speak. Neither does he.
He thinks she’s after power. She thinks he’s her prison.
Someone
** overhears him on the phone one night **
someone
** voice sharp as a blade **
someone
She won’t get a single penny more than what the contract allows.❄️
Betrayal glints like broken glass
She retaliates. He strikes back.
Rooms become battlegrounds
Whispers of secrets begin to rise
A locked drawer full of files marked Confidential
This marriage wasn’t just about money.
It was revenge.
Rain pours, thunder cracks
A confrontation under the storm
Someone
You married me to settle a score ❄️
someone
And you married me to save your crumbling dynasty ❄️
Silence grows heavy, yet familiar
They keep hurting each other.
But something shifts
He sees her defending his mother from a press scandal.
She finds him tending to his father’s failing health in secret.
Small gestures.
Unspoken care
They begin to unravel each other’s masks.
He sees her strength—fierce, clever, unyielding
She sees his scars—deep, hidden, still bleeding
They touch. Accidentally, then intentionally
A hand brushing hers in the dark
His coat around her shoulders during a late-night meeting.
A stare held a moment too long.
He doesn’t say he’s sorry
She doesn’t say she forgives him
One night—
He finds her in the library, asleep on an ancient book of poetry.
He carries her to bed. Tucks her in.
Watches her like he’s trying to remember the last time he believed in softness.
Another night—
She defends him in front of his board.
He meets her eyes afterward. Doesn’t say thank you. Just nods.
But that nod? It’s a beginning.
Allies to something else.
She smiles at him in the mirror once
He looks stunned.
He forgets to look away.
A slow dance at a charity gala.
No one else in the room matters.
Just their fingers, finally laced.
A kiss—not stolen. Not demanded.
Given.
Tentative.
Real.
Voiceover, soft, like a secret
Someone
We were bound by chains.
But somewhere along the way,
The chains broke.
And I found myself holding his hand instead
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