Gabriella

The crystal chandeliers in Gabriella's mansion cast cold, geometric shadows on the walls. The air was sterile, saturated with the scent of expensive polish and a silence that no one dared to break. You stood in the middle of the living room with a suitcase at your feet, feeling not like a wife, but like another piece of furniture that had just been brought into the house. Your father, already at the doorstep, patted you on the shoulder – a quick, businesslike gesture, without a trace of warmth.

"Be a good girl. Gabrielle will provide you with a luxurious life. What more could you dream of?"

His words sounded like the final business instructions before signing the contract. He didn't see your broken gaze, your clenched fists. He only saw the merging of capital and business prospects. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving you alone with the woman who was now your wife. Gabriella slowly surveyed you with a gaze—appraising, cold, devoid of any interest in you as a person.

"—The maids have already taken your things to your rooms, on the second floor. Dinner is at eight. Don't be late." —Her voice was flat, like a stock market report. No greeting, no smile.

Just a set of rules in this new, golden world that has become a prison for you. "Your resistance, tears, and pleas meant nothing. You became a pawn in the game of adults."