Chapter 5: Unwilling Bride (Married to the Underworld CEO)

Author: [writers hub]

The words echoed in the sudden silence of the dining hall, a cruel punctuation to Zara's already shattered world. My fiancée requires my presence. The implication was a sharp knife twisting in her gut. She was nothing more than a temporary fixture, a convenient shield. All the defiance she had gathered earlier crumbled into a bitter, hollow ache.

Ragnar stood, his chair scraping softly as he pushed it back. He didn't offer a glance, didn't spare a word, simply moved with the swift, predatory grace of a man on a mission. The two bodyguards, silent as specters, fell in behind him, their dark suits melting into the shadows of the doorway. Then, just as quickly as he had appeared, Ragnar Botermet was gone, leaving Zara alone in the cavernous, oppressive silence of the dining hall.

She stared at the untouched, exquisite dishes, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea. The food, once a symbol of opulence, now felt like a taunt. Her "golden cage" was not only a prison but a stage, and she was merely an understudy in someone else's play.

A maid, unobtrusive and efficient, entered to clear the table. Her movements were precise, respectful, yet Zara felt an overwhelming sense of being observed, judged. She pushed herself away from the table, needing to escape the suffocating grandeur. She walked, almost ran, back to the lavish suite that was now her prison.

The sapphire dress suddenly felt heavy, suffocating. She tore it off, throwing it carelessly onto the plush carpet. Her own clothes, the simple jeans and sweater she'd been wearing when her life imploded, had been neatly folded on a chair. She snatched them, pulling them on like a second skin, a desperate attempt to reclaim a shred of her former self.

She paced the room, her mind a whirlwind of anger, fear, and a new, unsettling humiliation. A fiancée. So his public image facade was even more elaborate than she'd imagined. Was this "marriage" to her merely a temporary diversion while he cemented his real plans with another woman? The thought burned.

A subtle chime from the wall screen startled her. It was a video call. The caller ID simply read: "Madam."

Zara hesitated, her heart pounding. It had to be Madam Cho. No, wait. The display showed a beautiful, elegant woman with sharp, intelligent eyes and a perfectly coiffed dark bob. Her skin was flawless, her lips a perfect crimson. She exuded an aura of cool confidence and power. This wasn't Madam Cho. This was her.

Zara knew, instinctively, who this was even before the woman spoke. The fiancée.

She tapped the screen, her heart hammering against her ribs. The woman's image solidified, her gaze cutting into Zara.

"So, you're the one," the woman's voice was crisp, clear, and laced with an unmistakable aristocratic chill. It was a voice accustomed to command. "Zara Jones. The little accident." Her eyes swept over Zara, taking in her simple clothes, her flushed face, and a faint curl of disdain touched her lips. "I am Mina Song."

Zara straightened her shoulders, a flicker of her earlier defiance rekindling. "And you are?" she retorted, though her voice wavered slightly.

Mina Song's eyes narrowed, a cold amusement replacing the disdain. "Don't play naive. You know exactly who I am. I am Ragnar's fiancée. The woman he will marry, properly, once this... arrangement... with you is concluded." Her gaze intensified, pinning Zara like a butterfly to a board. "Let me be clear, Miss Jones. You are a temporary inconvenience, a means to an end for Ragnar. Do not, for a second, believe otherwise. Do not get ideas above your station. Do not interfere. Your role is to simply exist and then disappear when your utility runs out."

The sheer arrogance, the casual dismissal of her very being, ignited a furious spark within Zara. How dare this woman, who knew nothing of her struggles, her forced hand, speak to her with such condescension? "And what exactly is my 'utility,' Ms. Song?" Zara challenged, her voice surprisingly steady now, fueled by outrage. "Am I a shield? A distraction? Or just another one of Ragnar Botermet's disposable assets?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Mina Song's face, quickly masked. "You are merely a prop, little girl. A necessary facade for a short time. Nothing more. Ragnar is a man who always gets what he wants, and what he wants, truly, is me." Her smile was chilling, devoid of warmth. "And trust me, you do not want to be in my way. You wouldn't survive the collateral damage."

The threat hung in the air, cold and undeniable. Zara knew, with a horrifying certainty, that this woman was not bluffing. Mina Song was not just beautiful; she was dangerous. And now, Zara was caught between the cold wrath of Ragnar Botermet and the icy fury of his true fiancée. The gilded cage was already feeling like a battleground.

Who was she in this intricate game? And how long before she became the collateral damage Mina Song spoke of.