A streak of twenty black cars stopped before her with all their headlights blinding her. There were no others passing by. She turned and ten rescue boats below the bridge where honking their horns. She literally got nowhere to go. All eight directions were blocked. Bella frantically turning on her heels, where she might go that no one could catch her.
The silence that followed was oppressive, filled with an unspoken weight of expectation. The men in black suits parted like a sea, revealing the imposing figure of Josef Harlington. His towering frame seemed to fill the space, his presence radiating an aura of power and control.
Bella's eyes locked onto Josef's, searching for any sign of emotion, but his face remained a mask of stone. His eyes, however, gleamed with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat.
As she gazed up at him, Bella felt a shiver run down her spine. She had always known that Josef was a man of few words, but his silence now was deafening.
The rescue boats below continued to honk their horns, creating a cacophony of sound that seemed to mock the silence between them. Bella's grip on the railing tightened, her knuckles white with tension.
Josef's voice, low and husky, cut through the din, sending a shiver down her spine. ""Don't ever think of running away again, Mirabella. You will never get away from me."
As he spoke, the men in black suits closed in, forming a semi-circle around her. Bella felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She knew that she was running out of time, and that her next move would determine the course of her life forever.
"You're right. So might as well die," Bella muttered bitterly, her voice loud with defiance. Without warning, she shoved Josef back and swung her leg over the railing. Now, her body was perched outside the safety of the edge.
"Don't you dare," Josef warned, his voice trembling with concern.
Bella's eyes flicked toward the river below, searching for a suitable spot to land. She clutched her thoughts tightly—this was her moment of choice.
I'd rather die than endure the hell you've made of my life, Josef, she thought fiercely.
In a heartbeat, she released her grip on the railing and stepped forward, plunging into the open air.
She believed she had done it—she was finally free. The rush of relief surged through her. But then, a steel-hard arm clamped around her waist, halting her mid-air.
Just as she was about to jump, Josef leapt after her, catching her in a firm grip—one hand clutching the railing, the other wrapping around her waist, anchoring her to him.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd below and around them. She could feel Josef's ragged, hurried breaths against the back of her neck, his body warm and trembling behind her fragile form.
In disbelief, she turned to face him, her deep green eyes widening—not with hope, but with fear.
Desperate, she wriggled trying to break free. But in a swift, decisive motion, Josef loosened his grip just enough, then tightened his hold around her once more.
The next thing she knew, icy water surged into her lungs, cold and unforgiving, pulling her into darkness.
A series of high-pitched beeps echoed steadily through the room, waking her. Blinding whiteness stretched before her, interrupted only by jagged lines of green, blue, and red flickering sharply on a monitor. A cold, transparent tube pressed against her nose, delivering icy air, while an IV bag hung above, quietly dripping.
A feminine voice called out from down the hallway. "She's awake."
For a moment, she thought she had finally reached her end—found peace in heaven. But then, a bitter thought struck her: No, this is still hell.
Gradually, everything became clearer. She was in a hospital room. She hesitated, then tried to sit up, only to be struck by a sharp, aching pain shooting through her back. Her wrist felt cold and metallic—why was she cuffed?
A familiar voice broke the silence. "Finally."
She turned her head slowly. It was Michael, standing nearby, a faint smile on his face.
"Yeah," she replied with sarcasm, "back to hell."
Michael's expression hardened slightly. "This is your second time, and you're still as aggressive as ever."
An awkward silence stretched between them.
She met his gaze, cold and unreadable. "Sorry about the cuffs," he finally said, voice softer. "We really had to do that. You know, after the last incident."
She didn't reply, just stared at him silently.
A group of medical professionals in white coats entered, checking her vitals and adjusting equipment.
The doctor spoke calmly. "You've been unconscious for three days. Take things slowly. Rest as much as you need."
She managed a dry, bitter smile. "Umm, what do I have to do to stay unconscious—like, forever?"
The doctors and nurses exchanged uncertain glances, unsure how to respond.
Michael cleared his throat, then interrupted gently. "Well, it's time for your psych eval." He gave her a warm, reassuring smile.
Deep inside, Michael felt relief—she was alive.
Bella's mind spiraled into dark thoughts, contemplating ways to end her pain once more. But suddenly, a familiar voice shattered her solitude.
"Bellaaaaa!"
A warm, familiar presence enveloped her in a hug. Tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks.
"Diane!" she bellowed, her voice trembling with emotion.
Diane's face was etched with worry as she gently asked, "Are you okay?"
Without warning, Diane slapped Bella's arms hard. "You told me you'd be fine! So why the hell did you hurt yourself?"
Guilt washed over Bella's face as she looked away. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't know what else to do. But now, you're here. I promise, I won't do it again."
Relief flooded both of them as they smiled softly, a fragile moment of connection.
They settled into a quiet rhythm, catching up over peeled oranges and shared silence.
Suddenly, Diane's expression hardened, her tone turning serious.
"I was only here because Mr. Harlington contacted me," she admitted. "I'm surprised, too. He said he'd leave me alone if I asked you to do this."
Bella's brow furrowed, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
"Promise," Diane continued, voice low, "I didn't have any plans of helping him. But he promised to help me get my son back—Jared."
Diane's gaze clouded with guilt.
She had lost custody of her son after a long, brutal legal battle with her ex. Running a bar, she knew it was risky—yet desperation had driven her to this point.
"I'm so sorry, Bella. I can't say no," Diane admitted softly.
Bella understood her predicament all too well—if she were in Diane's shoes, she probably would've done the same.
She reached out, placing a hand on Diane's. "Don't worry. It was our fault from the beginning. Josef could've left you alone if it weren't for me. But tell me—what did he want?"
Bella finally stepped back onto the grounds of the Harlington Manor. To say it was grand would be an understatement—it was monumental. The estate was one of the wealthiest in the country, practically wielding the kind of influence that made it seem as if the Harlingtons themselves ran the nation. The sprawling grounds, the towering walls, the ornate architecture—they all spoke of power and opulence.
Yet, beneath the grandeur lay a profound emptiness. The silence inside the manor was deafening, the loneliness heavier than the gilded walls. As she was led to her room by the maid, Diane's voice echoed faintly in her mind.
"He wanted you to stay in the manor until your fifth anniversary. No more running away. No more trying to kill yourself. He wants you to stay put—until then."
The request wasn't impossible. It was, in its way, simple. But confidence eluded her. For the past week, her only companion through calls had been Diane. She hadn't seen a shadow of Josef—not even a glimpse. It was as if she was living alone in this vast, empty castle of sorrow.
Then, one morning, a ping startled her awake.
She reached for her phone, eyes widening in disbelief.
"What? I got accepted? I got the job?"
Her voice burst out in joy, echoing through the silent halls of the manor.
In her happiness, she hurriedly informed everyone she could—staff who had become distant friends—that she had landed the job. Smiles returned their faces as they congratulated her, though their eyes held a guarded warmth. They were forbidden from talking to her freely—yet somehow, she felt their quiet support.
She ran around the manor, giggling and galloping like a child, caught up in her newfound hope.
But that joy was shattered in an instant.
A sleek, black car pulled up into the front yard—its presence ominous, like a shadow cast over her happiness.
Bella's instincts kicked in. Instantly, she ducked behind a nearby bush, heart pounding.
She had planned to avoid Josef until the "day of half-freedom"—until she could finally escape this prison and work towards her own life. She wondered—Did Josef get her the job?
A cold dread seeped into her chest.
No. Suddenly, the happiness evaporated, replaced by terror.