The morning sun streamed through the towering windows of the penthouse, gilding the marble floors in soft gold. Elena sat on the edge of the enormous bed, her eyes still red and swollen from a night of silent tears. The diamond ring on her finger felt like a chain, heavy, suffocating. She hadn't even bothered to glance at the food that Victor brought for her.
He wasn't lenient on it. He brought her pizza, pasta, some snacks, packs of milk, and cereals. He placed everything in the kitchen because it was all too much for her to grab. He then left quietly, but not before telling her to call him if she needed anything. Even at that time, she was crying, but he didn't say anything to her and silently left.
Elena rubbed a hand down her face. She had placed the food in the fridge. She had lost her appetite last night, but right now she was hungry. She was done crying. The girl got up and freshened up. Drying her face, she applied serum on her face, a little bit of gloss on her lips, as she ambled to the kitchen.
She preheated her food, poured herself a glass of juice, and had some food.
Later she watched some TV. Her father was calling her, but she refused to pick up his phone. After finishing a movie, she began reading a manhua on her phone. She wanted to keep herself distracted, and in the evening she dozed off again on the sofa in the lounge.
The sound of the front door unlocking jolted her awake from her half-dreaming haze. The metallic click echoed like a warning bell. She sat up straight, her eyes darting to the door. Her heart pounded as the tall figure of Damian Blackwood entered, immaculately dressed in a three-piece suit, his dark hair slicked back as though the night before hadn't touched him at all.
His presence filled the room instantly, magnetic yet menacing. His cold, storm-grey eyes swept over her once, a detached, almost bored glance, before moving away. Disinterested.
"You didn't come back last night." Elena's voice was soft but steady, her hands clutching the hem of her shirt.
Damian paused, setting his watch on the glass counter. He didn't bother to look at her when he replied, his tone clipped.
"You'll learn soon enough, my life doesn't revolve around you. It never will." His voice was deep and filled with chilling coldness directed at her.
The words sliced through her. She rose to her feet, anger lacing her trembling frame.
"Then why marry me at all? Why drag me into this prison if I mean nothing to you? Why ask my father for me in exchange for help?"
That made him stop. Slowly, Damian turned, his gaze sharp as a blade. He walked toward her, each step deliberate, predatory. When he stood in front of her, his sheer presence made the air feel thinner. Elena found herself instinctively stepping back until her back hit the edge of the sofa behind her, but Damian didn't stop; he came to a halt right in front of her, until there were only a few inches between their bodies from touching.
He leaned closer, his voice a dark whisper, more dangerous for its calmness.
"Because, my wife, I own everything your father has left. His debts, his dignity, and now, you. This isn't about what you want. This is about power, control, and the fact that your life is no longer yours. It's mine and through you, your father will always be in my control."
Her lips parted, tears blurring her vision at the cruelty, fury trembling on her tongue, but Damian lifted a finger, silencing her before she could speak.
"Let's make this clear," he said, his words low but ringing with authority. "There are rules in this marriage, rules you will obey."
Elena's jaw clenched, anger in her eyes as she held his gaze. Despite how intimidating he was and how close he stood. Her body was slightly trembling.
"One... you do not interfere in my private life. Who I see, where I go, what I do, none of it concerns you."
He took another step forward, towering over her. There was just an inch difference between their bodies from touching. She leaned back so they wouldn't touch as his hot breath caressed her lips.
"Two... you will not create a scandal. You'll play the perfect wife in public, smile when needed, and keep your mouth shut. If you humiliate me, I'll make sure you regret it."
Her fists clenched at her sides, nails biting into her palms. She was scared, but she was angry too.
"And three…" Damian's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "There will be no divorce. Not until I say so. Understand this, wife, you are bound to me until I decide otherwise." The way he said wife sounded like a curse itself.
Silence pressed between them, thick and suffocating. Elena's body trembled, but she forced herself to look up into his cold, merciless eyes.
For a moment, something flickered there, a shadow of something more human, more raw, but it vanished in the next second. He stepped back, his mask of control snapping into place.
Elena swallowed hard, her chest burning with a thousand words unsaid. She wanted to scream, to claw her way out of this nightmare. Instead, she drew in a sharp breath and bit back her tears. Damien went to his room, the same room with his portrait in it. Ignoring him, she grabbed her phone and stepped into her room, closing the door and locking it as once again tears blurred her vision.
One day, she vowed silently, her eyes burning with defiance. One day, I'll escape you, Damian Blackwood.