The drive back to Alex's mansion was quiet, but the kind of quiet that screamed louder than words.
I sat rigid in my seat, staring out the tinted window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of gold and shadow. My chest burned with humiliation at being caught , anger, and something I refused to name. The man beside me didn't speak. He didn't have to. His presence was enough, cold, controlled and dangerous.
When the car turned through the iron gates, the sight of the mansion made my stomach turn turn and twist. The tall black doors loomed ahead like the mouth of something waiting to swallow me whole.
As soon as the car stopped, Alex stepped out first. He didn't slam the door, didn't raise his voice, but the way he moved that quiet precision was worse than fury. It was felt terrifying.
The driver opened my door, hesitating when I didn't move.
"Get out, Isabella."
The way he said my name low, sharp, clipped sent a chill racing down my spine.
I stepped out, clutching my bag like a lifeline. The air between us was tight, electric, and every second of silence made my pulse louder in my earss.
We walked inside without a word. The heavy door shut behind us with a deep, final sound that made my heart sink.
Alex stopped in the middle of the foyer and turned to face me.
"Go upstairs," he said, his voice calm, too calm. "You'll stay in your room until I decide what to do with you."
I stared at him, disbelief and anger bubbling up. "You can't be serious Alex."
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "You tried to run away. With another man, Isabella. After everything I've done for you, you thought you could disappear like a thief in the night?"
"You didn't do anything for me!" I snapped. "You trapped me, threatened me, threatened the one person I truly care for…."
His hand slammed against the wall beside my head before I even realized he'd moved. The sound cracked through the air like thunder.
"No i saved you," he hissed, his face inches from mine. "You owe me your life."
I flinched but forced myself to meet his eyes. "Saved me? You call this saving? You bought me. You can never own me. You made me sign that..."
He cut me off, voice sharp as glass. "I made you survive."
I laughed a hollow, broken sound. "If this is survival, maybe I should've died."
Something flickered in his eyes, something dark and unreadable. Then his hand curled slowly into a fist. "Don't say that again."
I stared at him, breathing hard. "Or what? You'll kill me? Is that it?"
"If I wanted you dead, Isabella," he said quietly, dangerously, "you wouldn't be standing here."
Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "Why do this? Why not just let me go? Why keep me here if you hate me so much?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze softened, just for a second, before it hardened again. "Because you owe me more than money," he said, voice low. "You owe me your presence. Your obedience. Until I say otherwise."
I felt my stomach drop. "You're insane."
"Maybe." He took a step back, his tone shifting controlled again, cold, precise. "The wedding is still in two weeks. You'll wear what I tell you. You'll smile when I say. You'll play your part."
"Or what?" I whispered.
He looked at me for a long moment, then said quietly, "Or I'll make sure you understand what real debt actually feels like."
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. The silence between us crackled with something hot and dangerous fury, fear, and that unbearable tension that always made it hard to breathe when he was near.
Finally, I tore my gaze from his and shoved past him, my shoulder brushing his chest. His breath caught, but he didn't stop me.
I climbed the stairs, my hands shaking so badly I nearly missed a step.
When I reached my room, I shut the door and leaned against it, gasping.
I didn't cry. Not yet.
But my chest hurt like hell, like I was about to.
Somewhere below, I heard his footsteps pacing the marble floor slow, measured, deliberate. The sound followed me even as I slid down to the cold floor, curling my knees to my chest.
I hated him.
I feared him. Against my better judgement.
And yet… somewhere deep inside, I couldn't ignore the awful truth: every time he looked at me like that, my heart forgot what it was actually supposed to fella.