Chapter 4 Rules Of The Cage

• The dining room looked like something stolen from an old European palace. A chandelier glittered overhead, spreading gold light across a long mahogany table. At the far end, Dominic sat like a king on his throne, his black suit sharp against the pale silk runner.
• “Must he always be on Black?” I muttered to myself
• I hesitated at the doorway, nerves twisting my stomach. I’d spent most of the morning convincing myself that last night had been some cruel misunderstanding, that maybe—just maybe—he’d explain today.
• But the look in his eyes when he lifted them to mine told me otherwise. Cold and flat. The same expression he had worn when he shut the door in my face.
• “Sit,” he said simply, his voice low but steady.
• Not please. Not even my name. Just sit.
• I obeyed, slipping into the chair opposite him. The distance between us felt like a canyon. A maid appeared at my side immediately, pouring dark coffee into delicate ceramic cups, setting plates of fruit and eggs.
• My hands trembled slightly as I reached for the fork. I couldn’t eat, not really, but the silence was unbearable, so I forced myself to try. The clink of silver against ceramics echoed too loudly.
• Finally, Dominic spoke.
• “There are rules you need to understand.”
• My chest tightened. Rules? My wedding vows had been nothing but a transaction, but now he was spelling out the terms of my captivity.
• He set down his cup with deliberate care, then leaned back in his chair, studying me. “Rule one: you do not enter my office. Ever. That part of the house is forbidden to you.”
• I froze with the fork halfway to my lips. “Why?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
• His gaze sharpened, brown eyes hard as steel. “Because I said so.”
• Heat flushed my cheeks. I looked down quickly, stabbing a piece of melon, though my appetite had vanished.
• “Rule two,” he continued, voice even colder, “you don’t ask me questions. If you need something, ask the staff. If you’re confused, ask the staff. If you’re lonely…” He paused, a ghost of a smirk curving his lips. “Learn to live with it.”
• My throat burned. The fork clattered against the plate as I set it down too hard. “So I’m supposed to pretend you don’t exist?”
• “Pretend whatever you like,” Dominic replied. “As long as you follow my rules.”
• I wanted to scream. To throw the delicate china across the room. Instead, I clenched my fists in my lap, nails digging into my palms.
• “Rule three.” His tone deepened, final and irrevocable. “You obey me. Without hesitation, without argument. When I give a command, you follow it. No excuses.”
• The words landed like shackles tightening around my wrists.
• “And if I don’t?” My voice was barely a whisper, but it betrayed me—part defiance, part desperation.
• His gaze darkened, and suddenly he wasn’t lounging anymore. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his presence suffocating.
• “Then you’ll learn why no one disobeys me.”
• The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the faint tick of the grandfather clock against the wall. My breath caught, shallow, as though the air itself had grown too dense.
• Dominic leaned back again, all casual composure once more, as though he hadn’t just threatened me with quiet menace. He picked up his coffee cup and drank, his eyes never leaving mine.
• The worst part? Some traitorous part of me wasn’t only afraid. It was fascinated. Drawn in by the intensity of him, by the way danger clung to his every movement.
• I hated myself for it.
• “I didn’t ask for this,” I blurted, surprising both of us. My voice cracked under the weight of everything I’d been holding back since the engagement. “I didn’t ask to be married to you. I didn’t ask to be your—your—”
• “Pawn,” he finished smoothly.
• The word sliced me open.
• He tilted his head, expression unreadable. “You’re right. You didn’t ask. But here you are. My wife. My responsibility. My property.”
• I flinched.
• He said it so casually, like it was fact carved in stone. Property.
• My chest heaved, my fingers trembling against the linen napkin in my lap. Rage and humiliation boiled inside me, so sharp it made me dizzy.
• But he wasn’t finished.
• “You’ll find,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, almost intimate, “that being mine comes with certain… protections. You’ll be safe here. Fed, clothed, pampered if you like. In return, you follow the rules.”
• He leaned closer across the table, his eyes locking onto mine with terrifying intensity. “Break them, Sophia, and safety becomes a luxury I will no longer guarantee.”
• My name on his lips startled me. It was the first time he’d said it since the vows.
• But there was no warmth in it. Only warning.
• I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. My heart thundered so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
• Finally, Dominic leaned back again, dismissing me with a flick of his gaze. “Breakfast is over. The maid will show you around the house. Learn the spaces that are yours—and remember the ones that are not.”
• And just like that, he rose, pushing his chair back with deliberate grace. Without another word, he strode from the room, his footsteps echoing against the marble until they faded into silence.
• I sat frozen at the table long after he was gone, staring at the untouched food, my chest burning.
• The rules replayed in my head, each one heavier than the last:
• Don’t enter his office.
• Don’t ask questions.
• Obey without hesitation.
• A cage, dressed up in silk and diamonds.
• I pressed a shaking hand to my lips, swallowing hard against the sting in my throat.
• I was Mrs. Kane now. And that meant living in a prison with invisible bars, each rule another lock on the door.