Kenya.

The Ruthford mansion was an imposing structure that seemed to breathe with the weight of its own history. It was a masterful fusion of eras—the original 19th-century stonework had been preserved and integrated with sharp, ultra-modern glass and eco-friendly elements. It was a style that celebrated legacy while embracing the future, a perfect reflection of the man who now held the keys to it all.

I navigated the quiet hallways, the stone walls adorned with priceless art that felt like watchful eyes in the dim light. Eventually, I found my way to the heart of the house: the kitchen. Nancy, the housekeeper, was there, meticulously organized and focused on her late-night tasks.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ruthford. Can I get you anything?” Nancy asked with a warm, professional smile.

“Just a glass of water, Nancy. Thank you,” I replied, trying to sound more like the mistress of the house than I actually felt.

As I sipped the cold water, I marveled at the kitchen’s design. The silver surfaces of the high-end appliances gleamed against the rustic stone, a stunning contrast that spoke to Levi’s dedication to restoring his family's honor. It was an enigmatic kind of beauty—much like Levi himself. My thoughts drifted to him; I hadn't seen him since the last of the guests had departed.

"Nancy, do you know where my... where Levi went?" I asked, stumbling slightly over his name.

"He’s in 'The Cave,' Mrs. Ruthford," Nancy answered. "He mentioned he’d be there if you needed anything."

"The Cave?" I echoed, the name sounding more like a fortress than a room.

Nancy’s expression softened. "It’s what he calls his private recreational suite. It’s where he goes to decompress."

Curiosity, mixed with a lingering need to understand the man who had upended my life, pushed me to ask for directions. I told myself I was looking for leverage—something I could use to regain my autonomy—but deep down, I knew it was more than that.

Nancy led me down a corridor and a set of elegant spiral stairs, pointing toward a heavy, dark door at the end of a long hallway. After she left, I stood alone in the silence, my hand hovering over the handle.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The interior was a revelation. It was a vast space, the size of a private theater, with walls padded in deep emerald velvet. One section held a custom-made pool table, while other high-tech distractions were arranged throughout the room in a way that felt both masculine and sophisticated.

At the far end, another door was marked 'Cinema.' I entered quietly. The room was dark, save for the flickering light emanating from a massive screen. I walked down the carpeted aisle, my eyes fixed on the footage playing: a beautiful blonde woman laughing on a sun-drenched beach, followed by a younger, more carefree version of Levi.

An unexpected ache tugged at my heart. I didn't want to feel sympathy, but seeing him like that—before the world had hardened him—was jarring. Levi was slumped in the front row, a glass of brandy in his hand, his focus entirely on the screen. He didn't even acknowledge my entrance.

"Is that your wife?" The words escaped my lips before I could think better of them.

Levi didn't react immediately. He sat in the darkness for a long beat, then slowly turned off the screen with a remote. The room plunged into a heavier silence.

"You are my wife now," he said expressionlessly, his voice a low vibration in the quiet theater. He didn't look back at the dark screen; instead, he fixed his emerald gaze on me.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt a private moment," I said, feeling a flush of embarrassment. "I was... worried. After what happened with Benjamin."

Levi let out a long, weary sigh, rubbing his face with his palms. The exhaustion I had glimpsed earlier was now fully visible, etched into the lines of his handsome face. "You didn't interrupt anything," he muttered.

"You loved her," I pressed, my voice softening despite my intentions. "That's why tonight was so difficult. Benjamin is her twin, isn't he?"

Levi’s expression grew thoughtful, his eyes searching mine as if looking for a hidden secret in the shadows. "I loved her," he admitted, his tone hauntingly indifferent. "But I eventually learned that love isn't always a two-way street. And yes, Benjamin is the bitter remnant of that past."

"You say it with such detachment," I remarked, unsettled by his coldness.

"In my world, Kenya, detachment is a survival skill. People will always surprise you, usually in the worst ways."

“Is that your excuse for everything? Forcing me into this marriage without a second thought for how it looks to your late wife’s family? Without a thought for my feelings?" I accused, the frustration of the past few days bubbling to the surface.

Levi watched me, his gaze studious and unreadable. He remained silent for a long moment, the air between us thick with things unsaid. Then, without a word of defense or apology, he stood up and walked past me, heading for the exit.

Stunned by his silence, I gathered my wits and followed him out of the darkness, our footsteps echoing in sync as we moved back toward the light of the rest of the house.