Eva woke up in an unfamiliar room, the morning sunlight streaming through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls. She blinked, momentarily disoriented. The events of the previous day flashed through her mind, filling her with a sense of unease. She sat up, realizing her clothes had been changed. Memories of Irene and a maid fussing over her last night came back in a haze, but the details were blurry.

With a sigh, Eva forced herself out of bed, her body still aching from the emotional turmoil. She moved through her morning routine with automatic precision—freshening up, changing into something simple and comfortable. As she stood in front of the mirror, brushing out her long, dark hair, she tried to steel herself for the day ahead. "I have to survive this," she whispered to her reflection. "For my family."

Just as she was about to leave the room, a sharp knock sounded at the door. It creaked open, and there stood Andrew, his tall frame filling the doorway. His expression was neutral, but Eva could sense the coldness behind his eyes.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.

Eva nodded, slightly surprised by the question. "Yes, I’m fine," she replied, trying to gauge his mood.

But before she could say more, his expression darkened. "Good," Andrew said, his voice suddenly cold. "Now, where is your sister?"

Eva’s heart sank. She had no idea where Jessica had gone, and the mention of her sister made the tension in the room even more unbearable. "I don’t know," she answered, her voice firm but laced with desperation. "I have no idea where she is."

Andrew’s gaze hardened, his patience clearly wearing thin. "It would be in your best interest to cooperate," he warned. "Don’t make me angry, Eva."

Frustration bubbled up inside her. How could she answer when she truly didn’t know? Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she gathered her courage. "This is not the way you should behave toward your wife," she said, her voice shaking but resolute.

Andrew let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the tense air. "Wife," he repeated, as though the word was a cruel joke. His eyes narrowed in mockery. "You think I care about that title?"

Eva’s frustration boiled over. "Yes, your wife!" she yelled, her voice trembling with emotion. "And I’ll say it a thousand times if I have to, whether you want to admit it or not."

Her words seemed to trigger something in Andrew. In a flash, he grabbed her wrist, his grip painfully tight. Eva gasped, struggling to free herself from his hold, her eyes wide with fear. "Don’t ever raise your voice at me," he growled, his voice low and menacing.

Eva’s breath hitched as tears welled up in her eyes. "You’re hurting me," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Let me go."

Andrew’s gaze flickered with something—regret, perhaps—but it was quickly masked by his anger. He released her wrist, but the tension between them remained thick and suffocating. For a moment, they stood there in silence, Eva clutching her wrist and Andrew glaring at her, his frustration palpable. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving her standing there, trembling.

The moment he was gone, Eva sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands as the tears flowed freely. "What am I doing here?" she whispered, her heart aching with the weight of her situation.

Her quiet sobbing was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Eva quickly wiped her tears away, standing up shakily. It was the maid, her face kind but expressionless. "Breakfast is ready, ma’am," the maid informed her, her voice gentle.

Eva nodded and followed the maid downstairs to the dining room, her steps heavy with the burden of what had just happened. As she entered the room, she saw the King family seated around the long table. Andrew was already there, his gaze fixed firmly on his plate, refusing to acknowledge her presence.

Eva swallowed hard, forcing herself to remain calm. She mustered a small smile and greeted the family. "Good morning," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leonard, seated at the head of the table, looked up and smiled warmly at her. "Good morning, Eva," he replied. "Come, take a seat."

Eva hesitated for a moment before Leonard gestured toward the chair next to Andrew. "There’s no need to fear Andrew while I’m here," he assured her, his tone gentle but firm. "Just ignore his glares."

Eva glanced at Andrew, who was staring straight ahead, his expression unreadable. She nodded and quietly took the seat next to him, her hands trembling slightly as she placed them in her lap. The rest of the meal passed in silence, the tension between her and Andrew suffocating. Eva ate mechanically, her mind racing with thoughts of how she could possibly survive in this household.

After breakfast, Leonard stood up and turned to Andrew. "We need to head to the office," he said, his voice commanding. Andrew stood without a word, casting one final glance at Eva before following his father out of the room. Vanessa left shortly after, excusing herself to meet with some friends, and Irene departed for college.

Suddenly, the mansion felt vast and empty, its grand halls echoing with silence. Eva found herself alone, with nothing but her thoughts for company. She wandered through the house, trying to find something—anything—to distract herself, but every corner of the mansion reminded her of the cold, unfeeling atmosphere she was now trapped in.

Eventually, she retreated to her room, curling up on the bed, her mind replaying the events of the morning. She thought of Andrew’s anger, the way his grip had tightened around her wrist, and the bitterness in his voice when he spoke of their marriage. "Is this my life now?" she wondered, her heart heavy with despair.

As the day wore on, the emptiness of the mansion pressed in on her. Eva longed for a sense of belonging, for warmth and kindness. But all she had was silence and the coldness of the King family’s mansion.

With a sigh, she curled deeper into the covers, closing her eyes as exhaustion finally claimed her. But even in sleep, her heart remained restless, knowing that tomorrow would bring another battle—one she wasn’t sure she had the strength to fight.