Maelin Elora didn’t cry in couture.

That was rule number one—and the silk Valentino gown hugging her figure deserved respect. So even as her world tilted off its manicured axis, even as her father dropped the word “marriage” like a bomb over breakfast, she dabbed her lipstick, smoothed her caramel waves, and sipped her espresso with calm disdain.

“You can’t be serious,” she said, voice smooth as satin. “You want me to marry a man who doesn’t even speak?”

Her father, Regan Elora, didn’t blink. “You’ll find that silence can be more loyal than words. Elric Thorne is powerful, strategic—and unlike most men, he doesn’t underestimate you.”

“Probably because he’s never met me.”

“He’s agreed. That’s all that matters.”

Maelin stood, her heels clicking like gunshots on marble. “You don’t get to auction me off like one of your crumbling buildings, Father. This isn’t a deal—it’s a cage.”

He smiled. “No, darling. It’s protection. The government’s been sniffing through your finances. You need a shield. He needs a wife. It’s clean. Efficient.”

Maelin looked away, toward the full-length mirror near the balcony. Her reflection stared back—flawless, fierce, afraid. Her world was built in color palettes and company shares. Fashion Week runways and international boardrooms. She knew how to style armor out of chiffon and lipstick, how to turn vulnerability into elegance.

But this… this was something else.

Elric Thorne—the silent strategist of the Prime Minister’s cabinet. A man with war in his eyes and a mystery in his past.

Maelin swallowed hard.

Then she smiled—cold and stunning.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll marry your ghost. But I swear, the moment he tries to own me, I’ll burn down both your empires.” The heels echoed across the marble floor like a warning.

Maelin Elora walked through the hallway of her penthouse, flawless in a tailored blazer and silk blouse—but the storm inside her couldn’t be styled away. Her father had done it again. This time, he hadn’t threatened her business. He’d threatened her freedom.

Marriage.

To a man she didn’t know. A politician. A stranger who held power over a country—just as her father held power over her.

Jessa followed quietly, holding a tablet in one hand and Maelin’s favorite peach iced tea in the other.

“Are you okay?” Jessa asked gently.

Maelin stopped near the window. The city lights blinked below them like tiny, fake stars. “No,” she said, voice calm but cold. “But I will be.”

Jessa nodded. She didn’t say things like “you don’t have to do this,” because she knew Maelin did. When you grow up in a world full of claws, you learn how to wear armor with rhinestones.

“He’s not like your father,” Jessa said softly. “I checked. Elric Thorne is… different.”

Maelin raised a brow. “Different how?”

“He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t control. Doesn’t chase attention. He paints.”

Maelin blinked. “He what?”

“Paints. In secret. I found a photo of his work. Abstract, lots of dark blues and reds. It’s like… he’s hiding pieces of himself on canvas.”

Maelin looked away, thinking. Her whole life, she’d been someone’s tool. The strong daughter. The public figure. The CEO in heels and diamonds. And now they wanted her to be a wife—again, for someone else’s plan.

But maybe…

“Maybe he’s hiding,” she whispered.

Jessa smiled kindly. “Maybe you both are.”

Maelin picked up the red velvet suit from the rack. “Then let’s stop hiding.”

She turned to Jessa with fire in her eyes.

“If I have to marry him, I’ll make sure the world sees who I am. I won’t be silenced. Not again.”

Jessa grinned. “That's my girl.”

Elric Thorne sat in silence, staring at the ceremonial black and silver uniform folded neatly on the bed. The day of his marriage had come… but to him, it felt like another battlefield he was being sent to.

The grand Thorne estate was buzzing with preparations. Staff rushed through marble halls, polishing antiques, adjusting flower arrangements, and placing banners bearing the Thorne family crest — a falcon with spread wings. To them, this day was about alliances. To the kingdom, it was news. But to Elric, it was… complicated.

He had never wanted this life.

Born into the Thorne lineage — one of the noble families trusted by the King to hold power — his path had been chosen long before he could speak. Not that he spoke much anymore.

He once dreamt of painting quiet skies, of capturing moments the world missed — the softness of twilight, the silence of first snowfall. But those dreams had been scraped from him, replaced by combat drills, strategy books, and brutal training from a mother who refused to let him be “soft.”

When he’d resisted, she hadn’t shouted — she’d punished. Coldly. Ruthlessly. Until something inside him broke, and words stopped coming like they used to.

Now, he was the Defence Minister of the kingdom. Silent. Sharp. Obedient. And terrifying to many — because he didn’t raise his voice… he never needed to.

But a few months ago, everything shifted. He had wandered — just once — into the royal painter’s gallery for a moment of stolen peace. That’s when he saw her.

A woman in red heels, arguing passionately with a young artist. She had laughter in her voice, fury in her posture, and beauty that didn’t try to impress — it simply existed.

Maelin Elora.

He didn’t know her name at the time. But she stood there like she owned the world, even though the weight of it clearly pressed on her shoulders.

He didn’t approach her. He just watched. And something quieted in him.

So when he found out her father wanted to marry her off to gain favor in court… Elric did something he never thought he’d do.

He made a deal.

No threats. No demands. Just a quiet, powerful offer to Maelin’s father: Give her hand to me — and I’ll protect both your name and hers.

Now, today was the wedding.

Elric stood, walked to the tall mirror, and looked at himself — dark suit, collar sharp, eyes colder than he remembered. His little sister had teased him that morning: “Try smiling, brother. You don’t want to look like a villain on your wedding day.”

He had smiled — just slightly.

Because even if Maelin hated the arrangement, even if she never forgave him for being part of it, he knew one thing:

He wouldn’t cage her.

He’d guard her.

He couldn’t give her the life she dreamed of — not yet — but maybe, just maybe, he could protect her dream until she could reach it herself.

And in her presence… maybe he’d find pieces of his own.

The mirror in front of Maelin sparkled with a thousand lights — though most of them weren’t from bulbs.

Her wedding dress shimmered like a galaxy stitched by royalty. Handcrafted from sheer silk, layered with delicate diamond beads and ethereal crystal strands that caught the light like stars, it moved with her like a whisper of power.

Exactly how she liked it.

“Maelin,” Jessa breathed, practically starstruck as she adjusted a strand on the shoulder. “You don’t look like a bride. You look like the Queen who ate the bride for breakfast.”

“Good,” Maelin muttered, raising a brow as she twisted slightly in the mirror. “Then maybe the cameras will fear me into silence.”

Jessa grinned. “Fear you? Girl, half the kingdom already thinks you're a myth. Like—‘have you seen Maelin Elora?’ ‘No, but my cousin’s driver’s friend once glimpsed her at a diamond auction.’”

Maelin snorted, trying not to ruin her lipstick. “Perfect. Let’s keep it that way. Mystery sells better than vulnerability.”

Truth be told, she hadn’t slept much. Not from nerves — from annoyance. She was about to marry a man she’d never had a full conversation with. A Defence Minister. And worse, her father’s favorite business gamble this year.

Still, she had to admit: Elric Thorne wasn’t what she expected.

He wasn’t loud. He wasn’t slimy. He didn’t flirt or flatter. Actually… he barely spoke at all.

Which, strangely, she liked.

He’d sent her exactly one gift before the wedding: a paintbrush set carved from ivory and blackwood, with a note written in the smallest, neatest handwriting she’d ever seen.

“You don’t belong in a cage,” it had said. “Paint the door open when you’re ready.”

That was it.

No threats. No hearts. No fake promises.

And for the first time in years, Maelin didn’t feel like prey. She felt seen.

Of course, the fantasy shattered the moment her dressing room door opened and her father stepped in, wearing his usual permanent frown.

“There’s my beautiful daughter,” he said, voice sweet and snaky. “Ready to smile and behave?”

“Hello, Father,” Maelin replied, all sugar and teeth. “Nice of you to show up. What, no last-minute contract to sign on the way?”

He ignored that. “I just came to remind you — don’t create a scene. Don’t embarrass yourself. This marriage is important.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s your dream come true.”

He stepped closer, adjusting a diamond on her shoulder as if it might escape. “It’s your future. Do not ruin it.”

Maelin smiled, but the kind of smile that could start fires. “Do you ever get tired of sounding like a villain in a drama?”

“I’m serious.”

“That’s the problem. You always are. Have you ever tried crying at a wedding? You know — like a normal emotional human being?”

He scowled and walked out without answering.

Jessa leaned in, whispering behind her. “Maelin, I swear he thinks he’s the main character in a corporate horror film.”

“Oh, he is,” Maelin said. “Just not the hero.”

As the doors opened and the music started far in the hall, Maelin stood tall, her diamond dress catching every eye.

If she had to walk into this marriage — then she would walk in like she ruled it.

Even if the world expected her to fall.