Audrey's Pov
I hadn't expected the punishment to feel so long. Five days in my room with nothing but food, water, and the walls around me had been… suffocating. The first day had been a shock—anger, disbelief, humiliation—but by the third, I realized something: Richard could take my freedoms, my distractions, even my phone, but he couldn't take my mind.
I paced my room quietly, counting the hours, thinking about the way he had cornered me in the club. The way he had said, "Every act has a cost." That phrase stuck in my head.
By day four, boredom mixed with clarity. I had no one to talk to. No one to distract me. No escape. And for the first time, I realized I was thinking about him differently. Not with fear. Not with desire—at least, not fully—but with sharp awareness. Every small detail, every way he moved, every command, every rule—it mattered. I understood that now.
The fifth day dawned, and I could feel it before I even heard it. The subtle footsteps in the hall, the soft knock of a door opening.
"Breakfast," a voice called outside.
I opened the door slowly, feeling the unfamiliar ache of restriction loosen slightly. The staff handed me my tray without a word. I ate in silence, measuring the quiet, noting the subtle tension in the air. It wasn't the walls that kept me in—it was his control. And it worked. I was… more aware, more careful, sharper.
I didn't ask for water again, didn't attempt to sneak a glance at the hallway. I had learned.
—------
Hours later, when the knock came, I didn't flinch. I expected it. I knew him too well now.
"Come with me," a calm voice said.
I followed without hesitation. Not fear. Not guilt. Curiosity. Anticipation. There was a purpose behind this, and I was going to find out what it was.
The hallway felt longer than it should. He walked with his usual quiet authority, hands behind his back, posture straight, expression unreadable. I stayed a step behind, matching his pace but careful not to step on his control.
We entered the dining room. He seated at the head, the table meticulously set. Silver gleamed faintly, the soft scent of polished wood in the air. It wasn't just a meal. It was precision. Power. Authority. Him.
He glanced at me, sharp, calculating. Not a smile. Not a sign of affection. Just a fleeting acknowledgment that I existed.
"You are permitted to sit," he said flatly.
I sat, hands neatly folded, posture straight.
He spoke then, and his voice held a weight I hadn't expected. "The punishment is complete."
I blinked. "Yes," I said cautiously. "I understand."
"Every word, every action, was necessary. You know the consequences now."
I stayed silent.
He leaned back slightly, fingers tapping lightly on the table. "That said," he continued, voice precise, calm, calculating, "tonight, you will attend my office dinner. It is required. Your presence as my wife will be noted. You will represent me. You will be observed. You will follow my instructions."
I raised a brow. "Office dinner?"
"Yes," he said simply. "As CEO, my attendance is mandatory. And as my wife, so is yours."
I swallowed, realizing the layers of control in his words. Not an invitation. An order. A contract extended beyond the walls of this house.
"The staff will provide attire suitable for the event," he added. "And accessories. You will leave nothing to chance. You will leave nothing unprepared."
I nodded slowly. Every word, every syllable, was another lesson in his dominance.
He paused, fingers brushing lightly over the table as if weighing his next words. "You will follow these rules tonight," he said. "One: You do not question. Two: You do not interfere. Three: You do not make contact unless directed. Four: You are observant, silent, and precise. Your presence is required, not your opinion."
I lifted my chin, holding his gaze. "And if I falter?" I asked, curiosity sharp and defiant.
He didn't smile. He leaned slightly forward, dark eyes catching the faint candlelight, calculating. "You will face consequences. Just as you have learned these past five days, there are costs for every deviation. I do not tolerate mistakes. Not in my house, not in my office, not in my life."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Understood," I said, voice calm, measured.
He leaned back, a faint flicker of relief—or something I couldn't name—crossing his face. He didn't want to admit it, but he had missed the subtle defiance, the presence I brought. Control had its costs for him too, I realized. Even if he'd been the one to dictate the rules, he hadn't wanted five days of silence.
"You will be ready in two hours," he said finally, standing. "Staff will bring everything necessary. Follow instructions precisely. Deviate, and you will repeat the lessons you've already learned."
I rose, carefully, keeping my expression neutral. "Yes," I said again.And he left.
I exhaled slowly, knowing this dinner wasn't just about etiquette. It wasn't about the office or appearances. It was about him, control, and me stepping into a world I hadn't chosen but couldn't ignore.
—-------
Two hours later, I stood in the room the staff had prepared for me. The dress they brought was elegant, understated, and perfect for observation—not for flirtation, not for attention, but to represent him. Accessories minimal, hair polished, makeup precise. I caught my reflection in the mirror. Audrey Ramen—controlled, poised, ready. Not submissive, not entirely compliant, but aware.
The door opened. He entered quietly, as always. The tension between us hung like a storm cloud—unspoken, unacknowledged, yet palpable.
"You are ready," he said simply, eyes scanning me, lingering just long enough to remind me that he saw everything.
I nodded. "Yes."
"Good," he said. "We leave in fifteen minutes. You follow my lead. You observe, respond, and exist. Questions will be answered later, if at all."
I swallowed, feeling the weight of his words, the precision of his control. And as we prepared to leave for the office dinner, I realized something: every moment with him was a lesson. Every glance, every command, every silence was a test. And somewhere in the depths of my chest, I felt the spark of defiance ignite again.
This time, however, it wouldn't be silent. Tonight, I would step into his world on my terms—or at least, as close as I dared. And somewhere deep inside, I knew he would notice.