CHAPTER 3: His Home

-=Martina's Point of View=-

I woke up feeling slightly disoriented, and as I looked up, I was puzzled by the unfamiliar ceiling above me. Without getting out of bed, I scanned the room and realized that it was completely unknown to me.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Where am I?" It took a few moments before the memories came rushing back.

"I'm married."

The sudden realization cast a shadow over my mood, and when I glanced at my finger, there it was, undeniable evidence.

Resting on my ring finger was a simple gold band with an Alexandrite stone at its center, coincidentally my birthstone. I couldn't determine whether it was just a matter of chance or if this ring was indeed my wedding ring.

Strangely, as I continued to gaze at the ring, the weight on my heart seemed to lighten. If only I were married to someone I truly loved.

I let out a deep sigh and lay back in bed, reflecting on the events of the previous day. I couldn't shake off the fact that I was now married to someone like Zion. However, dwelling on spilled milk was pointless, as many people would say. But how could I move on when I was bound to him for eternity?

"Till death do us part."

A shiver ran down my spine as I recalled those words, particularly the way Zion had spoken them, as if he genuinely meant every word.

When we left the restaurant and arrived at this hotel, which happened to be Zion's usual residence in the city, numerous thoughts raced through my mind, including the anticipation of spending the night with him.

I had no idea if he would assert his husbandly rights, so I trembled with apprehension at the prospect of being alone with him in a room. Yet, to my surprise, the dreaded moment did not come to pass as we entered the penthouse.

He simply escorted me to my room and departed without uttering a word.

It occurred to me that he might be tired and in need of rest, or perhaps he no longer possessed that kind of passion, and I hoped it was the latter.

This brought me back to the question of why he chose to marry me, out of all people. Why was I the one? Did Fiona orchestrate this entire situation? And perhaps Zion would marry anyone, not specifically me.

These thoughts consumed my mind when I heard a knock on the door, prompting me to push them aside and rise from the bed to answer it.

"Good morning, mistress," greeted the maid, her voice filled with profound respect, as she prepared my morning bath. In their training, the servants were instructed not to meet their masters' gaze and to remain as inconspicuous as possible. They were only allowed to speak when spoken to, solely to respond to their masters' inquiries.

Some people associate the term "mistress" with the other woman in a married man's life. However, in reality, "mistress" is a term of respect for a married woman who holds power and authority. Not everyone is aware that "Mrs." is actually an abbreviation of "mistress," and the term has been used since the 17th century.

Clarita assisted me in getting ready, and it took approximately thirty minutes for me to bathe and dress. Afterward, she directed me to the location of the dining room.

Upon entering the dining room, Zion had not yet arrived, allowing me a moment to compose myself. However, when I caught sight of him, my anxiety resurfaced, particularly as he gazed directly at me, as though peering into the depths of my soul with his almost silver eyes.

"Did you sleep well?" he inquired as he settled into his seat.

Almost instantly, the servants began serving a delectable spread of food, offering a variety of delectable choices.

"Yes... yes," I responded, attempting to maintain composure but failing miserably.

"That's good. Get ready to depart in two hours," he stated, though I noticed he didn't partake in the food, aside from the crimson liquid he sipped, which I initially mistook for red wine.

"Where are we going?" I asked, feeling perplexed.

"We're going home," he replied, without sparing me a single glance.

I had no knowledge of his place of residence, as even the news offered no information on it.

I suppose it was inevitable. Given his status, such precautions were necessary for his protection. This served as a reminder that I was no longer an ordinary citizen; my position had changed since marrying Zion.

Internally, I debated whether or not to ask him if we could bring my father along, despite his prior instruction not to inquire about anything. However, I had to advocate for my father's well-being.

Fiona might or might not hire a nurse for my dad, but I believed I could care for him better than any nurse.

"Zion..." I murmured, yet once again, an unsettling sensation washed over me upon speaking his name.

"Yes?" he responded, sounding disinterested.

"Can we bring my dad with us?" I asked, filled with hope, only to be swiftly disappointed by his refusal.

I wanted to persuade him, but the firmness in his voice when he said "no" indicated that his decision was final. So, I chose to let the matter rest for now, but it didn't mean I would never bring it up again.

For the time being, I needed to follow his instructions and work on gaining his trust, so that I could later ask for his assistance in helping my father recover.

With little appetite, I excused myself after eating just a spoonful of food and returned to my room.

As soon as my head touched the pillow, drowsiness washed over me, prompting me to take a nap while waiting for our departure.

Around 8 a.m., the same maid informed me that I should prepare to leave. Since all my belongings were already packed, I freshened up, and within ten minutes, we made our way to the helipad, where a sleek, custom-made black helicopter awaited us.

The helicopter looked elegant and undoubtedly expensive. I could only imagine the significant cost associated with such a luxurious aircraft, but for someone like Zion, money seemed inconsequential.

It wouldn't surprise me if he owned the company that manufactured these types of extravagant helicopters. I suppose I should start getting accustomed to this level of opulence.

As I approached the helicopter, my eyes were drawn to an intriguing sight—a subtle dent etched onto one of the handles. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the impression of a hand, causing a surge of curiosity to flood my mind. I couldn't help but marvel at the precision of the design and the remarkable durability of the materials used in crafting this magnificent chopper. Yet, the presence of the dent challenged my understanding, leaving me astounded by the mysterious force that could have left such a mark. Though I didn't have enough time to dwell on it since Zion is waiting for me to get in the chopper.

"Comfort."

That was the word that best described the interior as I stepped inside. Apart from its lavish and streamlined design, the interior exuded a sense of comfort.

Once again, I opted to remain silent as we descended, allowing myself to gaze out at the towering buildings we passed by.

An hour had elapsed, yet we still hadn't reached our destination. Noticing that Zion had dozed off, I decided to take advantage of the opportunity and catch some sleep myself.

I was jolted awake by the sensation of someone staring at me. When I opened my eyes, I found Zion fixated on me. Once again, I detected the same emotion I witnessed at the church, but just like before, it vanished almost instantly.

"Have we arrived?" I inquired, turning my gaze towards the window. To my amazement, a breathtaking island came into view in the distance.

"Is that where you live?" I couldn't resist asking, and he nodded in response. I found myself lost in a daze, especially as I caught sight of the vast sea when I glanced back at the path we had traveled.

I couldn't even see any trace of land from where we had come. Glancing at the time, I realized that four hours had passed since I had fallen asleep, indicating that his island home was incredibly secluded from civilization.