The penthouse was nothing like Victoria expected.
It wasn't flashy. It wasn't loud. It was controlled—every surface polished, every color muted, every object placed with intention. The city sprawled beneath the windows, distant and small.
"This is where you'll live," Nyangtsi said, shrugging off his jacket. "My people will move your belongings tomorrow."
"I didn't agree to move tonight."
"You did," he replied calmly. "Clause twelve."
She swallowed her protest.
A woman appeared—elegant, expressionless. "I'm Lira. I'll assist you."
Assist.
Not help.
Victoria was shown to a bedroom larger than her entire apartment. The bed looked untouched, pristine.
"This is mine?" she asked.
"Yes," Nyangtsi said from the doorway. "I won't share your room."
Relief flared—brief, suspicious.
"But don't misunderstand," he continued. "Privacy is a privilege, not a right."
That night, Victoria lay awake listening to the unfamiliar silence. No sirens. No neighbors. No fear of the door being kicked in.
Safety had never felt so much like a cage.
Victoria couldn't stop staring at the city lights through the floor-to-ceiling windows. From up here, the streets looked tiny and fragile, like the lives below were easily crushed. And tonight, she understood fully how powerless she truly was.
Every polished surface of the penthouse whispered control. Nothing was out of place. Every color, every shadow, every object carefully chosen to reflect the man who owned it: Nyangtsi Andesunn Tom. She shivered, realizing that this wasn't just a home—it was a statement.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Lira stepped in, silent, perfectly poised, holding a small tray with glasses of water and a black folder.
"Mr. Tom asked me to deliver these," she said, placing them on the desk. Her eyes flicked briefly to Victoria. "If you need anything, I'm here to assist."
Victoria's eyes followed the tray, noting the precision of its placement. Every movement in this penthouse was measured, controlled. No one moved without purpose. No one breathed without permission.
"Thank you," Victoria said quietly, her voice sounding foreign in the massive, silent space.
Lira inclined her head, lips barely moving, and withdrew. The door closed with a soft click.
Victoria turned back to the folder, sliding it open. Inside were several sheets detailing the rules of the household:
Meals would be scheduled and prepared according to Mr. Tom's preferences.
Public appearances and social functions would be strictly supervised.
Personal communication and external correspondence required approval.
Private quarters were off-limits to all but essential personnel.
She closed the folder with a snap, heart pounding. Every line reinforced what she already knew—she was a guest in a gilded cage, beautiful and contained, but always observed.
The silence in the penthouse pressed against her, almost suffocating. The faint hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, and every creak of the floor seemed magnified in the stillness.
Victoria felt the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She hadn't chosen this life, this marriage, this man—but now she had no choice but to navigate it.
A soft noise behind her made her start. Nyangtsi stood there, just inside the doorway, watching her. His presence was impossible to ignore, commanding the room without a word.
"You're awake," he said simply.
"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, trying to hide the tremor in her voice.
He stepped closer, the distance between them shrinking, but he stopped a measured arm's length away. Victoria could see every detail: the way his suit fit perfectly, the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw, the cold clarity in his eyes.
"You're thinking," he said. "About your brother, your father, your life before this."
"Yes," she whispered. "I can't stop."
"Good," he said softly, almost a murmur. "You need to remember everything you want to protect. It will help you survive."
Her pulse accelerated. There was something both protective and dangerous in the way he spoke. Something that made her heart pound faster than it should.
"Why are you here?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. "I don't need… I don't need your guidance."
He smiled faintly, a small curl at the corner of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Guidance isn't the word I would use. Observation, perhaps. Ensuring you don't make fatal mistakes."
Her chest tightened. Fatal mistakes. The words reverberated in her mind. Every breath she took felt deliberate, heavy with the knowledge that one wrong move could unravel everything.
"You treat me like a child," she said, her hands curling into fists.
"I treat you like someone I cannot afford to lose," he replied, voice even, calm, unwavering.
The intensity of his gaze pinned her in place. It was suffocating, thrilling, terrifying all at once. She wanted to step back—but she couldn't.
"You're dangerous," she said, almost to herself.
"I am," he confirmed. "But so are you. That's why I chose you."
Victoria froze. Her mind spun. Chosen. Owned. Observed. Protected. Every emotion tangled inside her, confusing and contradictory. She felt fear, yes—but also a dangerous flicker of something else, something she couldn't name.
Nyangtsi stepped closer again, slow, unhurried, respecting the invisible boundary she hadn't yet set. The air between them crackled with tension. Victoria could smell his cologne—dark, sharp, intoxicating. Her heartbeat betrayed her, thudding unevenly in her chest.
"Do you always test people this way?" she asked, voice tight.
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on the edge of the desk beside her, leaning slightly forward, his dark eyes locking on hers.
"I don't test," he said finally. "I observe. And I always see everything."
She swallowed, words caught in her throat. She wanted to step back, but her feet refused. The room seemed smaller somehow, their proximity magnetic, inevitable.
"Rest," he added after a pause, almost gently. "Tomorrow will be exhausting. You'll need all your strength."
Victoria nodded, though her mind was spinning. Rest felt impossible with him in the room. With him in her life. With him in her thoughts.
He turned toward the door, but before he left, he paused. "One thing, Victoria."
"Yes?"
"Do not forget that I am always watching."
The door closed softly behind him.
Victoria sank onto the edge of the bed, pulse racing. She had signed a contract she couldn't escape. She had entered a world she didn't understand, ruled by a man who seemed untouchable.
And yet… a dangerous part of her ached for his attention.
For his control.
For him.
A part of her hated that thought.
But she couldn't fight it.
And she didn't know if she wanted to.Victoria lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, but sleep refused her. Her mind replayed every moment since she had arrived: the cold precision of Nyangtsi's gaze, the impossibly calm way he had forced her to sign the contract, the weight of the title—Mrs. Tom—pressing down on her like a leaden chain.
She shifted, the sheets whispering beneath her. The room was silent except for the faint hum of the city below. Yet despite the quiet, she felt exposed, as if every corner of the penthouse was watching her, judging her, containing her.
A soft knock at the door made her jump.
"Come in," she called, voice tighter than she wanted.
Lira entered, carrying a tray with a small selection of foods—fresh fruit, a sandwich, and water. Her presence was quiet, almost spectral, but efficient.
"Eat," Lira said simply. "You'll need your strength."
Victoria's fingers trembled as she took a piece of fruit, biting into it mechanically. "I don't need…" she started, but stopped. She didn't know what she didn't need.
"You do," Lira said softly. "Mr. Tom expects you to be in top condition. Public appearances are tomorrow."
Victoria's stomach twisted. She hadn't even processed that part yet. Public appearances. Cameras. Questions. Attention.
"Tomorrow," Victoria whispered, her voice small in the vastness of the room.
"Yes," Lira replied, nodding once. "You must be prepared to play the role he requires."
Victoria set the tray aside, her appetite gone. She looked around the room again—the pristine bed, the carefully chosen decor, the absence of anything personal. She had nothing here. No control. No familiarity. Only rules and walls and… him.
And then, almost involuntarily, her mind wandered to Nyangtsi.
The way he had stood there, observing her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him without a touch. The way his voice, calm and precise, had cut through the fear like a knife. The way he had said: I always want to see you, Victoria Diva.
Her stomach tightened.
She hated that she thought about him like that. Hated that her pulse had betrayed her.
She tried to focus on something else. On Daniel. On her father. On the life she had lost. But every thought of them twisted back to him—the man who had orchestrated it all and now held the keys to her survival.
A soft breeze whispered through the slightly open balcony door. Victoria rose and stepped out, the night air cool against her skin. The city sprawled below, glittering and distant, unaware of the tiny, terrifying empire she had just been forced into.
She pressed her hand to the glass, looking down at the tiny cars moving through the streets, the people hurrying, the lights reflecting on puddles from the earlier rain.
And she realized something chilling: outside, they all moved freely. Inside, she didn't.
The door opened behind her quietly.
She didn't turn immediately. She knew who it was.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," Nyangtsi said softly. His voice carried easily, filling the space between them without effort.
"I can't sleep," Victoria said, turning slowly to face him.
He studied her for a long moment. "That's understandable."
"You're not here to understand," she said sharply. "You're here to watch me."
He took a step closer, and the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Observation is different from interference."
"Does it feel that way?" she asked, bitter.
"It can," he admitted. "But tonight, I won't interfere… unless necessary."
The closeness of him, the calm certainty, made her breath hitch. She hated herself for it. She hated herself for feeling something stirring inside her, something she wasn't ready to acknowledge.
"I hate you," she whispered, though the words didn't carry the venom they should have.
"I know," he replied softly. "And yet… you are still here."
Her pulse hammered. His gaze was unwavering, unwavering and unnervingly intimate. He was like a storm—silent, contained, and yet capable of destroying everything in his path. And for reasons she didn't want to understand, she wanted to survive it. She wanted to endure him.
"You're dangerous," she said again.
"And you," he replied, "are more stubborn than I expected. That makes you… interesting."
The word sent a strange shiver through her. Interesting. She hated that it unsettled her, and she hated that part of her wanted him to think that.
The silence stretched between them. Not uncomfortable, but charged. Victoria could feel it in every nerve. Every heartbeat.
Finally, Nyangtsi stepped back, the faintest click of his shoes on the polished floor echoing. "Rest, Victoria. Tomorrow is only the beginning."
She watched him leave, the door closing softly behind him. The echo of his presence lingered like a scent, impossible to ignore.
She sat on the edge of the bed, hands clasped tightly in her lap, and whispered to herself, "I will survive this… somehow."
But deep down, a part of her knew that survival wasn't just about living. Survival meant enduring him, navigating him, understanding him—and perhaps… something else.
And that part terrified her more than anything.
The city lights outside flickered as the night stretched on, quiet, controlled, endless. Victoria closed her eyes, and for the first time, she understood fully what it meant to be trapped in someone else's world—and why escape would be far more complicated than she had ever imagined.