I didn't scream. I didn't throw the folder at his feet. My father's betrayal and Damon's calculation were so massive, so absolute, that they left me feeling hollow, as if my internal organs had been replaced by cold, Chicago slush. I stood there, clutching the edge of the mahogany desk, while the man who had systematically dismantled my life watched me with the calm, possessive eyes of a collector.
"You're a monster," I whispered. The words felt small in the vastness of the study.
"I'm a businessman, Elena. I saw something I wanted, and I ensured the path to obtaining it was clear," Damon replied. He moved into the room, his footsteps silent on the thick Persian rug. He didn't look guilty. He looked satisfied. "Your father was a gambler who would have sold you to the highest bidder eventually. I simply made sure I was the only one at the table."
"You made my mother suffer! She could have died because she couldn't afford those treatments!" My voice finally broke, a jagged shard of grief piercing through the shock.
Damon stopped just inches from me. He didn't touch me, but his presence was a physical weight, a wall of heat and expensive sandalwood. "And now she is in the best private facility in the state. She has the best doctors. She will live, Elena. Because of me."
"Because you broke her first!" I shoved past him, my silver heels skidding on the marble floor as I bolted for the door. I couldn't be near him. The air around him felt like it was being sucked out of the room.
I didn't stop until I reached my suite. I slammed the door and turned the lock, leaning my back against the wood, my breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. My hands were shaking so violently I had to tuck them under my arms to keep them still.
I looked around the room,the "Gilded Cage." The 1,000-thread-count sheets, the marble vanity, the designer skincare... it all looked like trash now. It was all blood money. Every luxury in this room was a payment for a life he had stolen.
I stripped off the silver dress, the silk feeling like snakeskin against my flesh. I threw it into the corner of the room, a crumpled heap of moonlight, and scrubbed the expensive makeup off my face until my skin was raw and red. I wanted the "Elena Vance" he created to disappear. I wanted to find the girl who worked at the diner, the one who was poor but free.
But as I caught my reflection in the mirror, I realized that girl was dead. Damon Thorne hadn't just bought my time; he had overwritten my identity.
I climbed into the massive bed, but I didn't sleep. I lay there in the dark, watching the shadows of the Chicago skyline dance across the ceiling. I thought of Maya. I thought of my mother's smile when she got those lemon drops. I realized then that I couldn't run. If I broke the contract now, Damon wouldn't just stop the payments. A man who could engineer a family's ruin could just as easily ensure my mother never saw another doctor.
I was trapped. Not by walls or locks, but by my own love for the woman who raised me.
The sun rose over Lake Michigan, bleeding a cold, orange light into the room. I had spent the night staring at the door, half-expecting him to walk in and claim the "possession" he had bragged about.
But he hadn't. Damon was patient. He knew he didn't have to force anything; he already owned the deed to my life.
A soft chime sounded at the door. "Miss Vance? Mr. Thorne is waiting for you at breakfast."
It was the same polite, detached voice of the house staff. I took a deep breath, forcing my heart to steady. If I was going to survive this, I couldn't be the victim. If he wanted a masterpiece, I would give him one…but I would make sure it was the most dangerous thing in his house.
I dressed in a simple, sharp coloured knit dress,professional, modest, and utterly opaque. I brushed my hair until it shone like spun gold and painted my lips a pale, neutral pink. I looked like a dutiful fiancée. I felt like a soldier putting on armor.
I found him in the breakfast nook, a glass-walled corner of the penthouse that felt like sitting on the edge of the world. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, reading a digital paper, a cup of black coffee in his hand. He looked perfectly at peace.
"Sit," he said without looking up.
I sat. A maid immediately placed a plate of poached eggs and avocado toast in front of me. I didn't touch it.
"You need to eat," Damon said, finally setting his tablet down. His eyes scanned my face, searching for the tears I had spent all night crying. He found none. "We have a meeting with the legal team at ten to finalize the public announcement of the engagement."
"Why me, Damon?" I asked, my voice as cold as the glass windows behind him. "With all your money, you could have hired an actress. You could have found a socialite who would have been happy to marry you for the status. Why go through the effort of destroying my life?"
Damon leaned back, his eyes darkening. He reached across the table, his hand covering mine. I didn't pull away, though every nerve in my body screamed to bolt. I let him feel how cold my skin was.
"Because they wouldn't have been real," he said, his thumb grazing my knuckles. "The board knows me, Elena. They know I don't do 'fake.' I needed someone with fire. Someone whose hatred for me would look like passion to the cameras. And most of all..."
He leaned in, his voice dropping to that terrifying, intimate hum. "I wanted someone I didn't have to pretend to want. From the moment I saw that photo in your father's file.
A girl standing in the rain, defiant and beautiful despite everything..I knew. You weren't a business move, Elena. You were an acquisition."
"You think you won," I said, meeting his gaze. For the first time, I saw a flicker of something in his eyes,not just possession, but a hunger that went deeper than a contract. "But you made one mistake."
"And what's that?"
"You showed me how you play the game," I whispered. "You think you own me because you have the papers. But you've given me a front-row seat to your empire. And I'm a very fast learner."
Damon's grip on my hand tightened, but he didn't look angry. He looked... impressed. A dark, twisted smirk touched his lips. "I certainly hope so, Elena. Because by the time this six months is over, you won't remember how to be anything else but mine."
The maid returned to clear the plates, and the mask snapped back into place. We were the perfect couple again. But underneath the table, my nails were digging into the palms of my hands, drawing blood.
He had bought the girl. But he was about t
o find out that he couldn't afford the woman she was becoming.