Billionaire's Bride

Devil's Smart Home

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New place, new life, same hell disguised as something beautiful.

Eric had left her with Asher after handing her the pendant, a small piece of jewelry that seemed to carry the weight of an entire world. As the crowd buzzed around them with congratulations and champagne, Janette’s mind drifted. She wanted nothing more than to forget everything that had happened over the last month—every single, excruciating detail.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance with my wife?” Asher’s voice was like silk laced with steel, his hand extended toward her. She felt every eye in the room on her, waiting. She hesitated, but she couldn’t resist the pull of his presence. She placed her hand in his, and his grip was firm, warm—a dangerous kind of comfort.

He pulled her close, one hand sliding to her waist, the other cradling her hand as if he’d done this a thousand times before. Her hand rested on his broad shoulder, her wedding ring catching the light and gleaming against his tailored blue tux. They began to move to the music, his steps steady and confident, leading her effortlessly.

They looked perfect together. She could sense the admiration from the crowd, feel the heat of their gazes. She wanted to scream that it was all fake, that it was just for show. But a darker, quieter part of her wasn’t so sure anymore. That part of her liked the way his hand lingered on her bare back, the heat of his palm seeping into her skin.

“Jane,” Asher murmured, his voice low and dangerous as it brushed against her ear. “I’m going to kiss you now. Don’t panic—it’s all for the show.”

Her heart stopped. No one else had ever managed to silence her with a few simple words, but Asher Norman wasn’t just anyone. He was the man who now owned her life. She could feel the panic rising in her chest, her breath hitching. She hated him for what he was doing to her. She hated herself more for feeling even a sliver of excitement.

Before she could process it, he was leaning down, his lips brushing against hers. It was soft, deceptively sweet, but it left her breathless and wanting more—a desire she’d never admit to. As soon as the dance ended, and after a forced smile to the crowd, she was ready to leave.

The car ride to Asher's house was a long, silent descent into the unknown. For two and a half hours, she sat beside him, the distance between them a chasm. He didn’t speak a word, his attention focused on his laptop, tapping away as if she weren’t even there. She wanted to roll her eyes. Of course, her husband—a man who'd forced her into this marriage—would ignore her right after saying "I do."

She cast a sidelong glance at him. He was handsome, sure—sharp jaw, piercing eyes, dark hair that fell perfectly in place—but looks meant nothing when his soul was as cold as ice. She shook her head. How had she ended up here, with a man who was the exact opposite of everything she’d dreamed of?

They reached the gate of his estate—a sleek, black monstrosity that opened with a computerized voice demanding a password. Asher typed it in without missing a beat. The gates swung open to reveal a sprawling mansion, the kind that seemed to belong more in a billionaire’s fantasy than reality. As they drove through, automated systems sprayed and sanitized the car.

She watched in awe, unable to help herself. “So this is how the one percent lives,” she muttered under her breath. She caught Asher’s eye roll but ignored it. “Sorry, but this is the first time I’ve seen anything like this. I’m allowed to be impressed.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips, but he said nothing. The car came to a stop, and a driver in a black suit opened her door. She stepped out, feeling the weight of her wedding dress and the silent pressure of her new life.

“Ma’am,” the driver said, and she glanced around, realizing Asher was already striding ahead. She hurried to follow him, almost tripping on the hem of her gown.

She caught up to him in front of a smaller, high-tech building, far from the main mansion. A woman stood there, waiting with a machine in her hand, giving off the vibe of a futuristic dystopia. Janette had the unsettling feeling she was stepping into a world she wasn’t meant to enter.

“Mart, she’s Mrs. Norman now. Make sure she’s aware of the house rules,” Asher said coldly. The title sent a shiver down her spine. Mrs. Norman. It felt foreign, wrong. Like a skin she didn’t belong in.

“Congratulations, sir,” the woman murmured, and Asher gave a curt nod, disappearing inside.

The woman turned to Janette with a professional smile. “Congratulations, ma’am. You’ll need to change before entering the main mansion.”

“Of course,” Janette muttered, frustration bubbling beneath her calm façade. “Because why wouldn’t there be rules about everything?” She was trapped in his world now, where everything had its place, its order. She had no choice but to play along, for now.

As she changed, she reminded herself that this wasn’t the end—it was just the beginning. She would figure out what game Asher was playing. And when she did, she would make sure he knew exactly who he had underestimated.



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