Isabella's faint, mosquito-like yet weighty "I'll cooperate" was like the final seal on a contract of servitude, completely pushing her into an unknown, inevitably more dangerous abyss. The moment the words fell, she felt the last bit of warmth in her soul drained away, leaving only a cold shell, slumped between the wall and the carpet, lacking even the strength to lift her eyelids.
Alexander Kane received the answer he wanted. The trace of cold satisfaction in his eyes vanished almost instantly, quickly replaced by a deeper, instrument-like calculation. To him, this was not a compromise of emotion or an act of pity, but a successful resource reassessment and risk management—taking an asset on the verge of being scrapped and potentially troublesome, reevaluating it, and putting it into a high-risk utilization plan.
"Good." He straightened, his voice returning to its usual, emotionless authority. "From now on, forget all your previous futile attempts. Every action, every 'response,' must strictly follow my instructions."
He operated the micro-terminal on his wrist. The tablet Isabella had discarded in the living room was silently brought into the bedroom by David and placed on the floor by the door. Its screen was dark, like a silent obsidian, yet exuded a heart-stopping allure.
"It will reconnect to the network with specially set permissions. What you need to do is use the simulation software as before, 'curiously'," Kane's instructions were clear and ruthless. "But all operations will be directed to you in real time through another encrypted channel. You must replicate and execute perfectly, without deviation or improvisation. Understand?"
Isabella nodded blankly, her throat dry and voice gone, becoming a puppet on strings, stripped even of the right to struggle.
"As for your body," Kane's gaze swept over the healing patch on her neck, his tone flat as if discussing the weather, "Dr. Thorn will handle adjustments. The physiological connection from the mark, to some extent, allows me to sense your condition and ensure you don't do anything foolish."
The words sent a chill through Isabella; even her last shred of privacy and inner emotion was under his surveillance.
"Remember, Isabella," Kane stepped closer, his shadow completely enveloping her again. He leaned slightly forward, his cold breath nearly on her face, carrying an absolute warning. "This is your only chance. Play your role well, and you might continue to survive. Any mistake, or if I find you have other thoughts…"
He didn't finish the sentence, but the flash of undisguised killing intent in his gray-blue eyes was more powerful than any threat spoken aloud.
Isabella tightly closed her eyes, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Kane, seemingly satisfied with her fear, said no more and strode out of the bedroom. The door locked behind him once more, leaving Isabella, the cold tablet, and a room filled with suffocating despair and heavy chains.
The following days became the most twisted and torturous period in Isabella's life.
She was forced to begin her "performance."
Every day, at specific times, her tablet would receive a directive from an unknown encrypted address. The instructions were usually extremely brief, such as: "Today, 3:15–3:20 PM, log into the simulation software, adjust probe orbital parameters to XXX, YYY, ZZZ, run simulation until error occurs." Or: "9:00 PM, on the star map interface, click coordinates (α, β, γ) five times irregularly."
These operations still appeared to be beginner mistakes or casual tinkering, but Isabella knew that every number, every click, could contain a specific signal to the outside "ghost." She was the bait, yet she didn't even know what fish she was trying to catch or what terrifying consequences it might trigger.
Every operation made her fingers tremble from tension, her heart pounding as if about to leap out of her chest. She had to perfectly replicate the instructions while suppressing her inner storm, not revealing any abnormal emotion. She felt like a tightrope walker above a bottomless abyss, with someone on the other end who could release the rope at any moment.
Alexander seemed extremely busy and rarely appeared in the suite, but Isabella could feel his omnipresent surveillance. David appeared more frequently; when delivering meals, medicine, or changing the healing patch, his calm, expressionless eyes always seemed to scan her and the tablet.
What terrified and unsettled her even more was that as Dr. Thorn's medical adjustments and time passed, the physiological effects from the forced mark began to complicate.
The wound on her neck gradually healed, leaving a clear bite-shaped mark, but the burning sensation was replaced by another, stranger perception. She could increasingly "feel" Alexander Kane's presence—not physically nearby, but through the physiological connection left by the mark.
When he was calm and occupied with business, she felt a cold tranquility. When he occasionally experienced emotional fluctuations, even from the study or another location, she would inexplicably feel a flutter of unease, and the glands on her neck would tingle subtly, as if being tugged by invisible forces.
This connection filled her with immense shame and fear. Her body no longer belonged entirely to herself; it became a pathetic receiver of his signals.
At the same time, perhaps due to the Omega instinct after marking, medication effects, or side effects of this damned physiological connection, she began to develop a twisted, physiological craving and dependence on him.
She would uncontrollably recall his icy touch, the suffocating yet strangely comforting effect of his powerful pheromones—especially when, after Lady Lydia's intrusion, he coldly drove her off. Even in nightmares, the violent pain of the forced mark would mix with a strange, heated tremor, waking her drenched in sweat, full of shame.
She hated this reaction! It was worse than mere fear, leaving her desperate and self-loathing! Her rational mind screamed in rebellion while her body shamefully betrayed her.
This internal and external torment made Isabella visibly lose weight, her complexion increasingly pale, dark circles forming under her eyes. Her cyan eyes often reflected a mix of terror and emptiness, only gathering a spark of focus when executing instructions.
She was like a flower drying up without nourishment.
None of this escaped Alexander Kane's eyes.
Through surveillance and David's reports, he knew her state perfectly—her fear, her struggle, her pitiful physiological reactions. He felt no pity; he saw it as a necessary process of taming. Her fear made her obedient, her dependence reduced resistance—all benefiting his plan.
However, occasionally, during the quiet of late-night business handling, when he felt the subtle, anxious, and fragile tremor from the other end through the mark connection, a trace of unfamiliar ripple stirred in his frozen heart. But that ripple was quickly crushed by stronger reason and cold calculation.
A few days later, Alexander's special team captured some positive signals. The outside "ghost" seemed clearly interested in the carefully designed "responses" sent by the bait recently. Interaction frequency and signal strength had increased.
The bait had taken.
This meant the plan needed to enter the next stage, requiring even more alluring and dangerous bait.
That night, Alexander appeared at the bedroom door again.
He had just finished a transcontinental holographic meeting, still carrying a faint chill from the conference room. He waved David away and entered the bedroom alone.
Isabella was curled on the sofa, having just completed a set of evening instructions. Pale and exhausted, she sat up abruptly like a startled rabbit at his sudden appearance, eyes wide with fear and alertness, clutching her clothing.
Alexander's gaze lingered on her pale, thin face, then fell on the faint mark visible at her slightly open collar. His expression was deep and unreadable.
"You seem obedient enough," he said lightly, sitting across from her on the single sofa, posture relaxed yet still exerting invisible pressure.
Isabella was too tense to breathe, staring at him helplessly.
"The fish took the bait," Alexander continued, voice calm, as if reporting a business update. "They're interested in the signals you sent. You're slightly more 'useful' than I imagined."
Isabella's heart sank further; she felt no relief, only gripped by even greater fear. Success meant… greater danger?
"Next," Alexander leaned slightly forward, his gaze like a tangible lock on her, voice low and with a dangerous magnetism, "we need a bit more… 'persuasion.'"
Isabella's heart leapt; a dreadful premonition wrapped around her like a poisonous vine.
"A tightly monitored prisoner, occasionally sending signals, versus one who, receiving a bit of 'favor,' gains more permissions and dares more, the latter clearly provides greater 'value' and trustworthiness." Kane's lips curved in a cold, near-cruel smile.
"You… mean?" Isabella's voice was dry and trembling.
"It means," Alexander's gaze slowly swept over her, no longer merely assessing but carrying a hidden intent, "our relationship needs to 'progress further.'"
He stood and stepped toward her, each step pressing down on her heart.
His powerful Alpha pheromones spread as he approached—not the previous uncontrolled rage, but a heavier, purposeful pressure and… seduction. The physiological attraction through the mark was amplified infinitely.
Isabella shrank back in terror, her back pressed against the sofa arm, nowhere to escape. Her body trembled uncontrollably—not just from fear, but from a shameful, instinct-driven quiver and heat.
"No… don't…" she shook her head desperately, tears brimming.
Alexander stopped in front of her, towering over her. He reached not for her, but for the tablet beside her.
"Tomorrow night, 'they' may try to send a more complex signal. You need a 'reason,' one that allows you to operate the software longer and more deeply without triggering the internal system alarm," his voice low, filled with a dangerous implication.
He placed the tablet in front of her. The screen lit up, showing a fabricated report praising her recent "good performance and interest development," along with newly unlocked, higher-level software operation instructions.
"And this 'reason,'" Kane's finger lightly traced the screen, his gray-blue eyes fixed on Isabella's terrified gaze, voice calm yet resolute, "is me 'staying here' tonight."
Boom—!
Like thunder exploding in her mind! Isabella immediately understood his meaning. Her blood seemed to freeze, then burn. Immense shame and terror engulfed her like a tsunami.
He was… going to… with her… physically?
Using a sexual relationship as a legitimate "cover" for her gaining more permissions?!
This was far more terrifying and revolting than the forced mark! Not uncontrolled violence, but calculated, cold, and completely crushing her last shred of dignity.
"No…!" she let out a piercing, nearly breaking scream, flailing to knock the tablet away. "You can't… how can you…!"
Kane easily avoided her weak resistance, slightly exerting force on her wrist, his grip strong enough to make her cry out in pain.
"Can't you?" he repeated, a trace of genuine, cold mockery and cruelty flashing in his eyes. "Isabella, have you forgotten your position? Forgotten what you agreed to?"
His face drew close, icy breath on hers, mixed with his overpowering pheromones.
"Your body, your obedience, everything about you, has belonged to me since the moment you agreed to 'cooperate,'" his voice a demonic whisper, coldly shattering her last illusions. "Now, I'm just collecting… the first installment of your 'payment.'"
"Remember, this is to make you 'more valuable,' to let you… survive."
With that, he suddenly pulled her off the sofa and threw her onto the large, cold bed without mercy.
Isabella's struggles and cries were utterly insignificant against the absolute power gap and the preordained outcome of this game.