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63

Bethany's POV

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the nauseating scent of roses. Not real ones—the artificial kind they spray on cheap greeting cards that promise eternal love but end up in the trash. It was suffocating. I sat up in bed, blinking at the room that now felt like a gilded cage. Mason had redecorated, of course. Because why let your newly minted wife feel comfortable when you can force her into a Barbie Dreamhouse nightmare?

The walls were painted a pale gold, matching the silk sheets that clung to my skin like a bad decision. There were fresh flowers on the bedside table, a diamond necklace draped over the vanity, and a pair of designer shoes I didn't ask for perched on a pedestal like they were the Holy Grail. Mason's way of saying, You're mine now—better look the part.