Chapter seven

The Rules of Marriage

The air in the mansion hung heavy with tension as Sophia stared at the scroll in her hands. The ornate calligraphy danced mockingly across the parchment, its words searing into her mind.

Rules—rules that bound her to a life of servitude disguised as a marriage. Her grip tightened on the edges of the scroll as her eyes scanned through the conditions dictated by their families.

“Maintain your husband’s reputation above all else,” one line read. Another: “No actions or words that bring dishonor to the Sinclair name.” And the most infuriating of all, “You are forbidden from revealing any personal or familial matters without Jack’s approval.”

Sophia let out a bitter laugh, she could feel herself boiled with anger from within. But of course, this wasn’t a partnership—it was a gilded cage.

She was so engrossed in the scroll that she didn’t hear the door open behind her.

“What are you doing with that?” Jack’s sharp voice cut through the silence, startling her. She turned to see him wheeling himself into the room, his gaze narrowing as it landed on the scroll. She had thought he was leaving for work but here he was right in front of her.

" Weren't you just leaving the house?" Sophia asked

" What does that have to do with you? Did you understand my message?" Jack asked staring at the scroll she was holding.

Sophia held the parchment up, her lips curving into a smile. “Did you know about this? These… rules that dictate my every move? Rules that make me your puppet?”

Jack smirked, his eyes glinting with derision. “Of course, I did. Do you think I’d agree to this farce of a marriage without ensuring I had control? You’re bound by those rules, Sophia. Unless you want to go running back to your precious family and beg for scraps. From what I heard before we got married, they were in a haste to throw you out."

Sophia’s heart pounded, but she refused to back down. “Control? Is that what this is about, Jack? You’re so consumed by bitterness and self-pity that you’d rather bury yourself in anger than fight for something better.”

Jack’s expression darkened. “Don’t lecture me, Sophia. You know nothing about what it’s like to lose everything. And you to think you can heal me." Jack scoffed

Sophia stepped closer, her eyes blazing with defiance. “And you think I don’t know loss? My family practically disowned me for this marriage. They were ready to sell me off like cattle to the highest bidder! But I made a choice to be here, to make this work, even when you treat me like I’m nothing.”

Jack laughed coldly. “You made a choice? Let me tell you something, Sophia. You don’t make choices in my world. You survive, or you don’t. And right now, you’re surviving because of me.”

Sophia’s fists clenched at her sides, but she forced herself to stay calm. “You can wallow in your misery all you want, Jack. But don’t you dare think for a second that I’m here for your charity. If anything, you’re the one who needs me.”

Jack scoffed, wheeling himself closer to her. “Need you? Don’t flatter yourself.”

Sophia leaned down, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re right. You don’t need me. But you do need someone who won’t give up on you, even when you’ve given up on yourself.”

The silence that followed was deafening. For a brief moment, something flickered in Jack’s eyes—doubt, perhaps even vulnerability—but it was gone as quickly as it came. He leaned back in his wheelchair, his smirk returning.

“Touching speech,” he drawled. “But it changes nothing.”

Sophia straightened, holding her head high. “We’ll see about that.”

Sophia sat in her room, staring at the scroll that now lay open on her desk. Her anger had subsided, replaced by determination. She couldn’t let this document define her. If Jack wanted to trap her in this marriage, she would find a way to turn the tables.

She remembered her grandmother’s words—words that had always given her strength in moments of doubt. “Sometimes, the strongest chains are the ones we cannot see. But even those can be broken with enough will.”

Sophia’s gaze drifted to the small vial of the healing potion she had prepared earlier. If Jack wouldn’t believe in her, she would show him. But for now, she needed a plan.

Jack wheeled himself into the dining room, his mood as sour as ever. He barely glanced at Sophia, who was already seated at the table, sipping her tea.

“Good morning,” she said, her tone neutral.

Jack ignored her, focusing on the plate in front of him. The silence stretched, heavy and oppressive, until Sophia finally spoke again.

“I’ve been thinking,” she began, her voice calm but firm. “About these rules.”

Jack looked up, his brow furrowing. “What about them?”

Sophia met his gaze, her eyes unwavering. “They’re a sham. They don’t define me, and they certainly don’t define this marriage.”

Jack let out a bark of laughter. “Is that so? Last I checked, you don’t have much of a choice.”

“Maybe not,” Sophia admitted. “But neither do you. You’re just as trapped as I am, Jack. The only difference is, I’m willing to fight for something better. Can you say the same?”

Jack’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

Sophia stood, her posture commanding. “I’ll follow the rules if that’s what it takes to keep my family at bay. But don’t mistake compliance for submission. I am not your puppet.”

As she turned to leave, Jack’s voice stopped her. “And what if I don’t want your compliance? What if I’d rather burn the whole thing to the ground?”

Sophia looked back at him, her expression unreadable. “Then you’d better be prepared to face the consequences.”

That evening, Jack sat in his study, staring at the scroll. Its edges were already singed from the fire he had started in the hearth. He hated it—the rules, the expectations, the constant reminder of how powerless he felt.

With a sudden burst of anger, he grabbed the scroll and threw it into the flames. The parchment curled and blackened, the ink running like blood. He watched it burn, a twisted sense of satisfaction washing over him.

But as the last embers faded, a new thought took root in his mind. Sophia’s words echoed in his head, taunting him, challenging him. Could she really mean what she said? Could she actually help him?