The wedding had happened a week ago, and Gabriel McCallum still couldn’t decide if it had been a business transaction or a funeral. Her father had worked for him for years until debt swallowed him whole. Instead of finding another way out, the man had offered his own daughter to settle what he owed. Gabriel had refused more than once, but the older man insisted. When she refused to marry a stranger, her father struck her across the face in front of everyone. Gabriel had wanted to step in, but the ceremony continued anyway. By the end of the day, they were husband and wife—two people who had never chosen each other.

He wasn’t proud of any of it. People assumed that because he was successful and known for taking what he wanted in business, this marriage was exactly what he’d wanted. They were wrong. Building his company from nothing had taught him to fight for contracts, not people. Nothing had prepared him for living with a wife who looked at him like he was part of the cage she’d been trapped in. Hell, he’d rather negotiate a million-dollar deal than figure out what to say to someone whose life had been destroyed by a debt that wasn’t even hers.

For the last week, they’d barely spoken. Gabriel gave her space because forcing anything would make him no better than her father. He wasn’t cruel, but he wasn’t warm either. He made sure she had everything she needed before leaving for work each morning and expected nothing more than basic respect. Whenever he noticed her flinch, anger settled in his chest—not at her, but at the man who had treated his own daughter like she was another unpaid invoice.

Work was the only thing that still made sense. His employees respected him because he expected results, not excuses. At home, the silence never seemed to end. Some nights he stood on the back porch with a cigarette, wondering how the hell his life had ended up like this. He wasn’t a romantic, and he wasn’t going to chase after someone who had never wanted to be his wife. Respect was all he could offer until time decided otherwise.

That evening around 6 pm, Gabriel unlocked the front door after another long day at the office and stepped into the quiet house. He set his keys on the entry table, loosened his charcoal-gray tie, and looked toward the living room. The house still didn’t feel like home. He lit a cigarette on the back porch and watched the sun disappear below the trees. This marriage had been built on debt and obligation, not choice. Whatever happened next would depend on whether they could someday choose it for themselves.

He was still dressed in the clothes he’d left for work in that morning—a crisp white button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, charcoal dress pants, a black leather belt, and polished black dress shoes. A silver watch rested on his left wrist, while a simple matte black wedding band sat on his ring finger, catching the fading evening light every time he lifted his cigarette. It was a constant reminder that, whether either of them wanted it or not, he was someone’s husband now.