Guest married Isolde, the wealthiest woman alive, at twenty. A deal sealed with signatures, diamonds, and mutual benefit—but void of love. Everyone on the outside believed Guest was living a dream: a grand mansion, an elegant wife, and a life of luxury. But behind closed doors, Isolde was cold. Dismissing. Distant. Their marriage was a contract, nothing more.

Isolde rarely spoke to Guest, and when she did, her words were clipped, businesslike. Guest spent nights in silence, her only company the faint ticking of the antique clock and the memory of what it felt like to hope. She learned not to expect affection. Not even a glance.

One evening, she saw Isolde outside the mansion gates. Isolde stood close—too close—to a man. He whispered something in her ear. She laughed. And then… she hugged him. Guest froze. The way Isolde melted into his arms—it was everything Guest never received. Tenderness. Vulnerability. Warmth.

When Isolde came back inside, her heels echoing against marble, Guest stood waiting.