I stared at the gift box in front of me.
Beautiful. Expensive. Mysterious.
Just like him.
My fingers hesitated over the smooth wrapping. What could he possibly send me? After forcing me into his life, now… this?
Beside the box sat the small note.
With shaky hands, I opened it.
In his sharp, bold handwriting, it read:
"Wear this for dinner tonight. I don't like waiting."
– Knight
My stomach twisted.
I wanted to tear the note apart.
I wanted to scream.
Instead… I opened the box.
Inside, wrapped carefully, was a stunning black dress. Elegant but daring, something I'd never choose for myself. The fabric felt soft under my fingers, yet somehow heavy… like it carried his control over me.
I whispered to myself, "Is this another way to remind me I belong to him?"
Frustrated, I pushed the box aside and stood up, pacing the room.
What do I do? Refuse? Disobey?
But deep inside, I already knew the answer.
In this house, his rules weren't suggestions.
I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the black dress lying untouched on the bed.
I won't wear it.
I wasn't his puppet.
No matter how much power he held, I refused to let him control every piece of me. I picked my own simple dress—plain, safe, and comfortable. Something that felt like me.
Let him be angry. I didn't care.
At least… that's what I told myself.
A few minutes later, Billi led me outside, where a long, black luxury car waited. The door was open.
And there he was.
Knight.
Sitting in the back seat, looking calm yet dangerous as ever, dressed sharply in his black suit.
His eyes flicked up the moment he saw me.
Silence.
Then, in a cold voice, he said,
"You didn't wear what I gave you."
I swallowed hard, but kept walking. I didn't answer.
In my mind, I repeated stubbornly: I'm not your puppet.
I slid into the car, sitting as far from him as possible.
Beside me, he leaned back slightly, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
"Fine. Let's go. We're getting late for the party," he said flatly.
My head snapped toward him in confusion.
"Party? You said… we're going for dinner!"
A cold smirk touched his lips as he looked straight ahead.
"Oh? You wanted to have dinner with me?" he teased softly.
"No! I didn't mean that!" I blurted, cheeks burning.
He chuckled under his breath, but then his expression turned serious.
"I had plans for dinner. But plans change. I got a party invitation. So, we're going there now."
"But… I wasn't ready for a party!" I whispered, panicked.
Without sparing me a glance, his voice turned cold again.
"Sit quietly. No more questions."
The door closed.
And the car moved.
I sat in silence, staring out the window, feeling trapped again.
Not a dinner.
Not freedom.
Just another night as his prisoner.