The morning light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a soft glow over the luxury penthouse. Lydia sat at the breakfast table, sipping her coffee in silence. The house staff buzzed around like ghosts, never meeting her eyes — they knew better. Eric had made it clear she wasn’t to be spoken to unless necessary.
She was the forbidden guest in a golden prison.
Her eyes drifted to the velvet chair across from her — Eric’s chair — still empty. He hadn’t returned to bed after the early call last night. She didn’t ask questions anymore. Not when every answer came wrapped in a lie or a warning.
"Lydia."
She flinched at the sudden voice.
It was Maria, the housekeeper. Older, gentle, and one of the few who dared whisper a kind word when Eric wasn’t watching.
“Yes?” Lydia asked, placing the cup down.
Maria glanced over her shoulder, nervous. Then she placed a small box on the table. “This… was left in the laundry. Mr. Moretti’s shirt pocket. I thought it was for you.”
Lydia blinked. “For me?”
Maria nodded and walked away, disappearing before Lydia could ask anything more.
Curious, Lydia slowly opened the small black box.
A ring.
Platinum. Diamond-encrusted. Radiant and delicate — but far too expensive to be casually misplaced.
Her breath caught.
It was a woman's engagement ring.
Her first thought was foolishly hopeful. Was this... for me?
But that hope died as fast as it came. Eric wasn’t the type to propose. He didn’t believe in love. He didn’t believe in marriage — at least not with her.
She picked up the ring with trembling fingers, examining the inside of the band.
There was an engraving.
"To C.S. — Forever, E.M."
C.S.
Lydia's blood turned to ice.
This wasn’t just some business arrangement. He had engraved a promise. A forever. Something he had never whispered to her — not even during the rare moments he held her like she mattered.
Her hands trembled as she slammed the box shut.
Who is she?
A knock on the door jolted her.
Eric walked in, perfectly dressed in a tailored grey suit, his cold eyes landing on her instantly. “Why do you look pale?”
Lydia quickly pushed the box under a napkin. “I just didn’t sleep well.”
He strode over and kissed her forehead like it was routine. Like she wasn’t falling apart inside.
“You’ll be staying in the penthouse all day,” he said, pouring himself a drink. “No stepping out.”
“Are you going somewhere important?” she asked, voice casual.
He smirked. “Business.”
She hesitated, then forced a smile. “With someone named C.S.?”
The glass paused midair.
Eric’s gaze sharpened.
Lydia met his eyes, challenging, but he didn’t answer. He sipped the drink slowly, masking the tension now burning in the air.
Then he leaned in, voice low and dangerous. “Don’t ever go through my things again.”
“I didn’t—”
He grabbed her chin harshly, lifting her face to meet his.
“I don’t explain myself to anyone. You exist to warm my bed, Lydia. Not to pry into my life.”
She jerked away. Her heart cracked under the weight of those words.
“And I’m done pretending that’s enough,” she whispered.
Eric froze.
“You don’t own my soul, Eric,” she added, standing up, “just my body. But that ends soon.”
For the first time, a flicker of something unfamiliar crossed his face — fear. Or was it fury?
Either way, Lydia had finally seen the truth.
She wasn’t his forever.
She was his secret.
And now… she wanted out.
---
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