Chapter 35

Kenya.

By seven in the evening, I found myself seated before the grand vanity mirror in the master suite. The room was a sanctuary of cream silk and polished marble, every corner a testament to Levi Ruthford’s impeccable, albeit cold, taste.

Spread across the bed was a masterpiece of couture—a shimmering burgundy halter-neck gown with an open back and a subtle, elegant slit. It was a dress designed for a queen, yet as I stared at it, I felt a wave of anxiety. To the world, I was to be the poised, perfect wife of a rising political star. To myself, I felt like a beautiful lie, a performer forced into a role I hadn't auditioned for.

The afternoon had been a blur of briefings with the PR team and jewelry selections. While they were professional and kind, their presence only reinforced the feeling that I was an intruder in my own life, a project to be managed.

The stylist finished my hair, securing a sophisticated chignon with delicate diamond accents. Just as I was about to reach for the dress, a firm knock echoed through the room. Levi entered, looking devastatingly sharp in a tailored black tuxedo. His presence always seemed to shrink the room, drawing all the air toward him. His eyes swept over me, and despite my resentment, I felt the familiar, involuntary pulse of awareness.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" he asked the stylist, his voice calm but brook no argument. Once the door clicked shut, he approached me.

"I’m not here to argue," he said, noticing the way I stiffened as he drew near. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside lay a delicate diamond chain, its brilliance catching the soft light of the chandeliers.

He knelt before me, a gesture that felt both reverent and possessive. Without asking, he reached for my hand, his touch light but firm as he guided me to sit. He fastened a beautiful diamond anklet around my leg. The cool metal against my skin was a sharp reminder of the wealth that now defined my existence. The intimacy of the moment was suffocating, a silent claim he was laying upon me.

Once finished, he stood and handed me a heavy leather file that had been resting on the vanity.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Documents for a new account in your name," he explained, his tone conversational, as if he were discussing a routine business deal. "You will have unlimited resources at your disposal. If there is something you want, or somewhere you wish to go, you will never have to ask for permission."

"I don't need your money, Levi," I murmured, my throat tightening as tears pricked my eyes. I felt a surge of insult. It felt like another attempt to buy my silence, to purchase my compliance with gold.

"It is yours by right as my wife," he insisted, his gaze softening, though his eyes remained unreadable.

"I don't want rights, Levi. I just want the life I had before you decided to break it," I spat, the words sharp with a pain I couldn't fully hide. Yet, even as I spoke, a treacherous part of me wanted to lean into him, to find safety in the very man who had orchestrated my captivity.

"Don't fight me tonight, Kenya. Please," he said, his thumb gently grazing my chin to lift my gaze to his. He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead—a gesture of peace that felt more like a brand.

"I’ll wait for you downstairs. The guests are arriving, and the world is waiting to meet you."

He turned and left the room, leaving me alone with the diamonds, the documents, and the suffocating weight of my new reality.