Chapter 6: A Life of Luxury, A Prison in Disguise

Amira woke up to the unfamiliar feeling of silk sheets against her skin. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until she turned her head and saw Jordan sitting in a chair across the room, casually sipping his morning coffee as he read through some documents.

Her pulse quickened. "Do you always watch people sleep?"

Jordan didn't even glance up. "I wasn't watching. Just making sure you don't run."

Amira scoffed, pushing the covers aside. "If I were going to run, I would've done it already."

"Good." He finally looked at her, his sharp blue eyes assessing. "Get dressed. We have a charity gala tonight."

She frowned. "What?"

"Appearances matter, Amira. You're my wife now. That means the world needs to see us together." He stood, adjusting his cufflinks. "I'll have a stylist bring options for your dress."

She hated how easily he controlled everything. "And if I don't want to go?"

Jordan smirked, stepping closer. "Then you break the contract. And we both know you can't afford that."

Amira's jaw clenched. He was right. She had no choice.

---

A Cinderella Transformation

Hours later, Amira found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror, staring at the transformation. The deep red gown hugged her curves perfectly, the off-the-shoulder design making her look effortlessly elegant. Her long dark hair was styled in soft waves, her makeup flawless.

For the first time, she didn't recognize herself.

Jordan walked in, adjusting the cuff of his tuxedo. When he saw her, he paused, his gaze trailing over her from head to toe.

"You clean up well," he remarked.

Amira crossed her arms. "Is that your way of saying I look nice?"

His lips twitched, but he didn't respond. Instead, he offered his arm. "Let's go."

With a deep breath, she placed her hand in his, ignoring the strange jolt that went through her at the contact.

This was just a role. Nothing more.

---

The Gala: A Perfectly Crafted Lie

The event was held in an extravagant ballroom filled with high-profile guests, journalists, and flashing cameras. As soon as they entered, whispers followed them.

Jordan Carter, the untouchable CEO, had finally settled down.

Amira kept her head high, forcing a smile as Jordan introduced her to various business associates. She played her part well—charming, polite, the perfect wife.

But as she sipped her champagne, she overheard two women whispering nearby.

"She's pretty, but she won't last. Jordan doesn't do commitment."

"I give it six months before he moves on."

Amira's grip on her glass tightened.

Jordan must have noticed, because he leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "Ignore them."

She forced a smile, but inside, she wondered—how long could she really last in this world?

And more importantly… would she come out of it unscathed?.