HEAVENLY PAIN MARRIAGE

02. Snuff My Hopes Out

“Yes!” I gasp, breathless. “I’ll do whatever you want!”

He leans his face in slowly, deliberate, the air thickening between us. My heart hammers in my chest, desperate and frantic. Then his voice brushes against me, cold as frost.

“Then... marry me.”

The words hit me like a slap, leaving me stunned. I freeze, disbelief knotting in my throat. My hope—the one last flicker I clung to—snuffs out instantly.

“What?”

“You said you’d do what I say.” He steps closer, his presence pressing down on me, suffocating. “I say: marry me.”

I shake my head, as if I’ve misheard, as if this isn’t real. But his voice slices through my confusion, calm and merciless.

“And if you really hate this agreement, then let's get married like a man and a woman should do—not like a contract tells us to.”

Without waiting for a response, he turns his back and walks toward the door. His footsteps echo in the silence, a final reminder of how little he cares. He played me—made me think there was a way out, only to tear it away the moment I reached for it.

“I hate you...” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue. The weight of the empty room presses down on me, suffocating, thick. I’ve felt this powerless before, but still, I hate the feeling than anything.

***

I push open the heavy double doors of the dining room, the weight more than I expected. The aroma of roasted meat and something rich lingers in the air, but it only churns my stomach.

The long dining table stretches before me, vast and cold, like a frozen lake. Maximilian sits at the head, poised and indifferent, like a king on his throne. His fitted gray turtleneck and sharp profile catch the chandelier’s dim light, casting shadows along his high cheekbones. He doesn’t look up.

“Miss Harper,” the butler steps forward from the corner. “Please, have a seat.”

My jaw tightens as I glance at the chair across from Maximilian. “I said I didn’t want to eat,” I mutter, glaring at him. He seems unfazed.

“You’ll only make things harder for them if you refuse again,” he replies calmly, as if speaking to a child.

Frustrated, I yank the chair back with unnecessary force, the screech of its legs echoing across the marble floor. Maximilian’s gaze flickers, just briefly, before he gestures toward the butler.

“This is Mr. Alfred. He’ll attend to you from now on.”

I shoot Mr. Alfred a cold glance, seeing him as just another part of the prison Maximilian has built around me. “I don’t need a butler.”

“You will. After the wedding, things will get busy. We’ll move to an apartment near my office—easier for me to keep an eye on you.”

“You mean control me.”

Maximilian’s gray eyes finally meet mine, cold and unyielding. “I mean making sure you don’t do anything reckless.”

Maximilian shifts in his chair and pulls a crisp white paper from the folder. With a flick of his wrist, he hands it to Mr. Alfred, who carefully places it in front of me.

“Those are the terms,” Maximilian says, his voice calm and detached, as if discussing a business deal, not my life.

My hands tremble as I grab the paper. The words blur under the weight of anger pounding in my skull. My breath shortens, and the room tilts slightly, his control tightening like invisible chains.