A week after the wedding, Artem had already grown accustomed to the restrained, almost frigid rhythm of life inside the vast mansion.

The marble walls gleamed coldly, the chandeliers glittered above him, and endless rooms stretched out like a labyrinth. It was magnificent, yet suffocating.

Each day followed the same pattern: waking up in his separate bedroom, meeting her briefly at the long dining table where words echoed as if in a hall, then retreating once more into silence. They never shared life as a real couple. At times, Artem wondered if this marriage was real at all—or just an invisible contract sealed with a signature.

Then, one evening, the stillness was broken. A servant appeared and bowed:
— “Madam requests your presence in the study.”

Artem’s pulse quickened. Inside the dimly lit study, shelves soared to the ceiling, the smell of aged wood and paper thick in the air. His wife sat behind an oak desk, the lamplight sharpening every line on her face. She peered at him over her glasses before speaking in a calm, steady voice:

— “I have no heirs. No husband, no children. And I know exactly why you married me. You think I wouldn’t see through it? You wanted money—not me.”

He opened his mouth to deny it, but her hand cut the air sharply.

— “Don’t rush. I don’t blame you. In fact, I admire your honesty with yourself. That’s why I’m offering you a deal.”

Her voice grew colder, precise:
— “Until my last breath, you’ll remain by my side. To the world, we are husband and wife. But I demand no affection, no intimacy. We’ll keep our separate rooms. Yet there is one condition: fidelity. No women. No scandals. Even suspicion—and you’ll inherit nothing.”

She paused, then leaned forward.
— “And one more thing… never wish for my death. If it’s ever proven that I died unnaturally, everything will go to charity. I don’t need a murderer. I need a loyal companion. Someone to spare me from loneliness.”

Her words fell like stone.

Artem sat frozen. Relief mingled with dread. No marital bed, but strict rules. No warmth, but unexpected admiration for her clarity.

— “Think carefully, Artem. You’ll gain more than you ever dreamed. But only if you can endure time,” she concluded.

In that instant, he realized his answer would not only decide his family’s fate, but the course of his entire future.

That night, Artem lay awake. The high ceiling above pressed down like a weight on his chest, while the silence of the mansion deepened his turmoil.

On one side stood his mother and sister—their lives entirely dependent on him. Medicine, food, a future. On the other side, the cold reality: this marriage was nothing but a contract, a bargain sealed with his youth.

By morning, his choice was clear. He returned to the study. She awaited him, calm, almost expectant.

— “I agree,” Artem said at last.

Her eyes flickered with satisfaction—not joy, not warmth, merely the acknowledgment of a deal struck.

From then on, Artem’s life transformed. He became a shadow trailing behind her in glittering banquets, smiling politely for cameras, embodying the role of the devoted young husband. Yet once the doors closed, they retreated again into separate worlds.

Over time, the contract bore fruit. His mother received the finest treatment, her health slowly improving. His sister wore new clothes, returned to school, and began to dream of university. The crushing weight of poverty lifted, replaced by opportunities he had once believed impossible.

But in the quiet of night, within the silence of his own room, Artem felt the emptiness grow. He had traded away his youth, his freedom, his chance at love. The condition of “loyalty” pressed on him like iron chains, testing his resolve day by day.

And as months turned into years, Artem wondered: was he the master of his choice—or just another prisoner gilded in gold?