The morning after the gala, Lydia found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror, examining the reflection of a woman she barely recognized. The gown she had worn last night had been exquisite—sleek, elegant, and flawless—but it had also reminded her just how exposed she was in this new world. Wealth, power, appearances… they were lessons she had to learn quickly.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Enter," she called, smoothing the fabric of her dress nervously.
Malik stepped in, as always impeccably dressed, holding a folder filled with documents. His presence filled the room like gravity, and Lydia felt her chest tighten.
"You will be attending three more events this week," he said, placing the folder on the desk. "I expect you to familiarize yourself with the guest lists, memorize names, and be prepared to speak when called upon."
Lydia swallowed, trying not to let the nerves show. "I can do that."
He studied her for a moment, expression neutral. "You will also need to learn proper etiquette for these events. There is no room for error."
She nodded. "I understand."
Malik walked over, picking up a pen from the desk. He tapped it against the folder. "We will practice now. You will address me as your husband, not by my name. You will respond to instructions promptly, and you will maintain composure at all times."
"Yes, sir," Lydia said, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest.
"Good. Begin."
For the next hour, Malik ran her through introductions, proper posture, and even the correct way to hold a champagne glass. Every detail mattered, from the tilt of her chin to the tone of her voice. Lydia repeated each gesture, each phrase, careful to mirror his expectations perfectly.
"You hesitate," he noted after she fumbled slightly with a greeting. "Confidence. You must project confidence, even if you do not feel it."
"Yes, sir," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat.
He observed her silently for several more minutes, then nodded once. "Better. Much better."
After he left, Lydia sank onto the edge of her bed, exhausted. The rules, the lessons, the constant need for perfection—it was overwhelming. But she also knew that every instruction, every correction, was preparing her for survival in Malik's world.
And somewhere deep down, she realized she didn't want to fail. Not for herself. Not for her parents. And… not for him, either.
Because no matter how cold Malik Hightower appeared, she felt the pull of something beneath the surface, something unspoken between them, waiting to break through the carefully constructed walls.
The contract was clear. Boundaries were set. Emotions were forbidden.
But Lydia already knew: rules could be broken. Hearts rarely obeyed contracts.