Clara didn't sleep.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling of a room that felt too large, too quiet, too unfamiliar. The silk sheets beneath her fingers were cool, untouched. Everything about this place was designed for comfort, yet nothing about it felt safe.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Mom.
She hesitated before answering.
"Hello?" Clara whispered.
"You're awake," her mother said softly.
"Yes."
A pause. "Did everything go well tonight?"
Clara closed her eyes.
"Yes," she lied. "It was… fine."
Her mother exhaled slowly. "I saw something online. A photo."
Clara's chest tightened. "What kind of photo?"
"You," her mother replied gently. "Standing next to a very tall man."
Clara swallowed. "That's… that's him."
"So it's true," her mother said. "You're married."
The word still didn't feel real.
"Yes."
Another pause, heavier this time. "You didn't tell me."
"I didn't want to worry you."
Her mother sighed. "Clara, I'm already worried. You sound like you're standing on the edge of something."
Clara pressed her lips together.
"I'm okay," she said. "I promise."
After the call ended, Clara stared at the dark screen of her phone.
She wasn't sure when she'd started lying so easily.
The next morning, Clara arrived in the kitchen to find Dylan already there, dressed impeccably, scrolling through his phone as if the night before hadn't happened.
"Good morning," he said without looking up.
She poured herself a glass of water. "Is it?"
He glanced at her then, his gaze sharp. "We need to discuss last night."
Her fingers tightened around the glass. "You mean when you sent me away?"
"You were overwhelmed."
"I was humiliated."
Dylan set his phone down. "That wasn't intentional."
"No," Clara replied quietly. "It was convenient."
Silence stretched between them.
"You can't expect me to prioritize emotions in public," Dylan said finally. "That's not how my world works."
"And where do I fit in that world?" Clara asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
"That depends," he said. "On whether you can adapt."
She laughed softly. "You keep saying that like I'm the problem."
"You're new," he replied. "New things require adjustment."
"I'm not a project," she said, meeting his eyes. "I'm your wife."
The word hung between them.
Dylan's jaw tightened. "On paper."
The reminder stung more than she expected.
Before she could respond, a woman entered the kitchen.
Evelyn Monroe.
Clara stiffened instantly.
"Good morning," Evelyn said coolly, her eyes flicking between them. "I hope last night was… educational."
Dylan stood. "Mother."
Evelyn's gaze settled on Clara. "You embarrassed yourself."
Clara's heart pounded. "Excuse me?"
"Running off during a gala," Evelyn continued. "It suggested weakness."
Clara opened her mouth—
"She was overwhelmed," Dylan said calmly.
Evelyn raised a brow. "And you indulged that?"
Clara looked at him.
He didn't look back.
"I handled it," Dylan said.
That was all.
Evelyn nodded approvingly. "Good. A Monroe woman must be resilient."
She turned to leave, then paused.
"And Clara," she added, "learn quickly. This family does not protect liabilities."
When she was gone, Clara's hands were shaking.
"She doesn't like me," Clara said.
"She doesn't trust you," Dylan corrected.
"Because I'm not like her."
"Because you're not like us."
Clara laughed bitterly. "At least you're honest."
Dylan looked at her then. Really looked at her.
"This marriage was never meant to be easy," he said.
"I know," Clara replied. "But I didn't know it would cost this much."
That afternoon, Clara found Vanessa waiting for her in the sitting room.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Vanessa said sweetly.
Clara crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
"To help," Vanessa replied.
"I don't believe you."
Vanessa smiled. "You shouldn't. But you should listen."
She gestured for Clara to sit.
"I won't," Clara said.
Vanessa shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll be quick."
She leaned in slightly. "Dylan doesn't defend what he doesn't value."
Clara stiffened. "What are you implying?"
"I'm stating a fact," Vanessa said. "You were exposed last night. And he let it happen."
"That's not—"
"He chose silence," Vanessa interrupted. "And silence is a choice."
Clara's chest tightened painfully.
"You don't belong in this world," Vanessa continued softly. "But you still have time to leave with your dignity intact."
"And how would you know?" Clara asked.
Vanessa stood. "Because I once thought love would change him too."
She walked away, leaving Clara frozen in place.
That night, Clara stood on the balcony alone.
The city lights below shimmered, distant and uncaring.
She wrapped her arms around herself, the weight of everything pressing down at once.
She thought of her mother.
Of the contract.
Of Dylan's silence.
For the first time since signing her name, Clara allowed herself to ask the question she'd been avoiding.
What if surviving this marriage meant losing herself completely?
The balcony door slid open behind her.
Dylan stepped out.
"You shouldn't listen to Vanessa," he said quietly.
Clara didn't turn around. "You didn't stop her."
"I didn't need to."
She finally faced him, eyes shining. "That's the problem."
He frowned. "What do you want from me?"
She swallowed hard. "I want to know if I matter at all."
The question hung heavy between them.
Dylan didn't answer.
And in that silence, Clara felt something inside her shift.
Harden.
Protect itself.
Because if he wouldn't choose her—
She would choose herself.