The opulent walls of the Thorne mansion felt like they were closing in on Sia. Every luxury—the silk sheets, the gourmet meals, the servants bowing at her feet—felt like a reminder of the price she had paid. She was a trophy won in a war of revenge, and she hated it.
By mid-morning, Sia was in the bedroom, hunched over her old, battered laptop. She was scrolling through job listings for freelance graphic designers. She didn't want the Thorne name, and she certainly didn't want their money.
"What are you doing?"
Reyansh's cold, authoritative voice cut through the room. He was standing by the door, his blazer off, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked every bit the powerful predator, but Sia didn't even flinch.
"I'm looking for a job," Sia said without looking up from the screen. "I need to earn my own living."
Reyansh let out a dark, mocking laugh as he walked toward her. "A job? You are the daughter-in-law of the Thorne family, Sia. You have a limitless credit card in that drawer. Why on earth would you need to work like a commoner?"
Sia finally looked at him, her eyes burning with a dignity that caught him off guard. "That card belongs to you, Reyansh. Not me. I won't eat food bought with your 'blood money.' I want to pay for my father's medicines myself, even if it takes me a lifetime. I am not your charity case."
Reyansh's face hardened. He reached out and slammed the laptop shut, nearly catching her fingers. "I won't allow it. Do you have any idea how it looks to the world? The wife of Reyansh Thorne working a 9-to-5 job for a few pennies? It's an insult to my name."
"Your name? Is that all you care about?" Sia stood up, her small frame defiant against his towering height. "You bought my presence in this house, Reyansh. But you didn't buy my soul. I have an interview in an hour, and I'm going."
As she tried to brush past him, Reyansh's hand shot out, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her back toward him with a jerk. The force sent her crashing against his hard chest.
The air left Sia's lungs. His grip was firm—strong enough to hold her but careful enough not to bruise. The sudden physical proximity sent an unwanted jolt through both of them. Up close, Reyansh could see the faint trace of sindoor in her hair and the fire in her eyes. He was frustrated by her independence, but even more frustrated by the fact that he wanted to keep holding her.
"Let go of me," Sia whispered, her heart racing against her ribs.
"No," Reyansh murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips for a split second before snapping back to her eyes. "You aren't going anywhere. You are a Thorne now. You stay where I put you."
Sia didn't back down. She leaned in even closer, her voice like sharpened ice. "You can lock the doors, Reyansh. You can keep me in this room. But every time you look at me, you'll remember that you couldn't break me. You can own my time, but you will never own my respect."
She wrenched her arm away, the friction leaving a warm sensation on both their skins. She walked toward the wardrobe to grab her bag, leaving Reyansh standing in the middle of the room.
He watched her, his fists clenched at his sides. He was the man who had everything, yet as he watched her small, defiant figure walk away, he felt a strange, hollow ache of defeat. He was supposed to hate her, but her strength was becoming the very thing he couldn't stop thinking about