The golden light of dawn crept through the towering windows of the luxury penthouse suite, cascading over the silk bedsheets and the untouched wedding dress discarded across the chaise lounge. Lin Yuyan sat at the edge of the bed, back straight, hands clenched in her lap. Her red-rimmed eyes stared blankly at the marble floor beneath her feet.
She hadn't slept.
Not a single minute.
Not after what Zhao Luchen had revealed.
Her husband wasn't Zhao Lemin, the soft-spoken, romantic man who had charmed her through late-night calls and warm, poetic texts. The man she had reluctantly agreed to marry to salvage her public image and secure a powerful alliance.
No.
She had married Zhao Luchen—the real heir, the ruthless CEO known for hostile takeovers, cold eyes, and a reputation that made boardroom sharks sweat.
He hadn't touched her. He hadn't tried to lie.
He simply told the truth.
"Your schedule is clear for the next week," came his voice from the walk-in closet. Calm. Businesslike. As if he were discussing stocks, not the aftermath of a marriage built on a lie.
Lin Yuyan didn't respond.
"Your manager's been informed that you're on a private honeymoon. The media will assume it's abroad. You'll stay here."
She stood suddenly, the chair scraping against the polished floor.
"You're controlling my life already?"
He emerged from the closet in a fresh black suit, every button of his shirt crisp, his cufflinks gleaming. He didn't even look at her.
"You're part of the Zhao family now. This marriage isn't just a scandal—it's a merger. And you, Lin Yuyan, are a very valuable acquisition."
The words stung more than she expected.
"I didn't marry you," she hissed.
"You said 'I do.' The paperwork says otherwise. The public believes what they see. So should you."
She marched toward him, her voice trembling with fury. "You're a liar."
He finally looked at her.
His gaze was cold, but steady. He wasn't trying to intimidate her. He didn't have to.
"No," he said. "My brother lied. I cleaned it up."
"By replacing him like a stand-in actor?!"
"Exactly. And since you're also an actress, I thought you'd appreciate the improvisation."
Her palm itched to slap him again, but she held it back.
He wouldn't flinch. He didn't flinch last night. He was ice.
She took a shaky breath. "You don't get to own me."
"You signed a contract. You said vows. The ring is on your finger. Whether or not we share a bed, Lin Yuyan, you belong to me—at least in the eyes of the world."
She glanced down at the diamond ring glinting mockingly on her hand. Her stomach turned.
He stepped closer. "I'm not asking you to love me. I'm asking you to perform. Play the devoted wife. Keep the cameras happy. Stay out of trouble."
She laughed bitterly. "And what do I get in return?"
He didn't hesitate. "Protection. Power. And the continued illusion that your career is still yours to control."
The silence stretched between them.
Then his phone buzzed.
He looked down. His brow twitched.
Without a word, he turned the screen toward her.
A gossip headline burned across it:
[BREAKING: Nation's Sweetheart Lin Yuyan Secretly Married? Mysterious Zhao Twin Identified as Husband!]
Beneath it, grainy zoomed-in photos from yesterday's ceremony. A wide shot of their kiss. A blurry image of her stepping out of the wedding car.
Her chest constricted.
He turned the phone back, typed something quickly, then slid it into his pocket. "The vultures are circling. This story will blow by midday. The board expects a press statement. I'll handle it."
She glared at him. "You think you can manipulate everything."
His mouth twitched—just the barest hint of a smirk. "I don't think, Mrs. Zhao. I know."
She moved to the door, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To talk to your father. To get this annulled."
He stepped into her path.
Too fast.
Too close.
She froze.
He didn't touch her. He didn't need to.
"There will be no annulment," he said quietly. "Do that, and you'll lose everything. Roles. Sponsors. Endorsements."
Her voice cracked. "You're blackmailing me."
He tilted his head. "I'm giving you a chance. A new story. From scandal to love story. The world will adore you."
Her hands curled into fists. "And what will you get out of this?"
His eyes darkened.
"A wife who won't run."
For the first time, she saw it—not just calculation, but something primal. Possessive.
He didn't want her.
He wanted to own her.
She backed away. "I won't play this game."
He let her go.
"You already are."
She returned to the bedroom, slammed the door shut, and collapsed against it, breath ragged.
Outside, the city roared to life. Her phone buzzed with calls from reporters, fan accounts, and her agency. She turned it off.
And for the first time since she rose to fame, Lin Yuyan didn't know what role she was supposed to play.
Wife.
Victim.
Pawn.
Whatever it was, it wasn't hers.
But if Zhao Luchen thought she'd stay silent, obey him, and play along—
He didn't know her at all.
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