He had been in a coma for nine months.

The press called it a tragic car accident, a sudden loss of control on a slick mountain road.

Looking at him now, I could see the ghost of the handsome billionaire who used to dominate the business news.

His jaw was strong, though slightly hollowed by months of inactivity.

His dark hair was brushed back from his pale forehead.

His chest rose and fell in time with the mechanical hum of the machine beside him.

I closed the door behind me and locked it.

The silence of the room wrapped around me like a blanket.

For the first time all day, I didn’t have to pretend to be the happy, grateful bride.

I walked over to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.

The velvet duvet was smooth under my palms.

I looked at Ethan’s hand, resting limp on the white sheet.

His fingers were long and elegant, showing no signs of the accident.

“So, we are married,” I said aloud.

My voice sounded small and fragile in the quiet room.

The monitor beeped in response, indifferent to my presence.

“I suppose I should introduce myself,” I continued, looking at his closed eyelids.

“My name is Clara. Your grandmother bought me today.”

I let out a dry, bitter laugh.

“My father told me I was doing a noble thing. But we both know the truth. I was just the collateral.”

I reached out, my fingers hovering over his hand before I finally touched his cold skin.

His fingers were stiff, devoid of any warmth.

“They think I’m going to be a quiet little mouse. Jason looks at me like I’m a prize he can steal next. Vivian looks at me like I’m an inconvenience she had to purchase.”

I squeezed his hand slightly, venting the frustration that had built up all day.