Isla
My hands were still shaking after Marcus showed the device. It looked small in his palm, just a harmless piece of metal and glass, but I knew it carried my shame inside it. Every private moment, every time I trusted him, every time I believed I was a wife and not a deal, he had been recording me. My chest hurt like someone pressed a stone inside it. I could not even cry because the tears felt too weak for what I was feeling.
Marcus watched my face like he enjoyed the pain he caused. His lips curved in that calm smile he used when he wanted to look in control. "Now you understand," he said quietly. "You don't walk away from me, Isla. You don't get to act brave and file for divorce like this is a game."
I forced myself to breathe. My fingers dug into my dress so he would not see how badly I trembled. "You recorded me without my consent," I said. My voice sounded far away even to me. "That is wrong."
He gave a soft laugh. "Wrong? The world doesn't care about wrong. The world cares about what it can see. And if it sees those videos, do you think they will pity you? Or do you think they will whisper your name with shame?"
My stomach twisted. I already knew the answer. Society never protected women like me. They would blame me first, ask questions later, and enjoy the scandal like it was entertainment.
Lucien stepped closer, but not too close. He did not touch me, yet his presence felt like a shield. His voice was calm when he spoke. "Blackmail is a crime, Marcus. You know that."
Marcus's eyes slid to him. "And you think I would keep only one copy?" he asked. "Do I look foolish to you?"
Those words hit me harder than anything else. My head snapped up. "What do you mean?" I asked, my throat dry.
Marcus shrugged like it was nothing. "It means exactly what it sounds like. Even if this one disappears, there are others. Safe. Hidden. Timed. If anything happens to me, they go out."
The room spun for a second. So even if I fought, even if I ran, even if Lucien helped me, Marcus had already built a trap around my life. I felt small inside it, like a bird in a cage that did not know where the door was.
Lucien's jaw tightened, but his tone stayed even. "You're threatening her with her own body. That says a lot about the kind of man you are."
Marcus smirked. "Spare me your moral talk. You came here like a hero, but you're too late. She belongs in this house. With me."
Belongs. That word made something inside me snap quietly. I was not a chair. I was not a contract. I was not a thing to own. But my anger had to stay inside because anger would not save me now. I needed to think.
I looked at Lucien for a brief moment. He did not rush me, did not speak over me, did not try to decide for me. His eyes only asked one thing: What do you want to do? That alone felt strange after years with Marcus deciding everything.
I turned back to Marcus. "Fine," I said softly. "You've made your point. I won't do anything rash."
His shoulders relaxed a little. He thought he had won. He always relaxed when he thought he had control. "Good," he said. "You're smarter when you listen."
But inside my head, thoughts were running fast. If I stayed, I would be his puppet forever. If I act otherwise, my life could be ruined in one night. My name would be dragged everywhere. My face would be looked at with pity or mockery. My future could close before it even opened.
Lucien spoke again, carefully. "Isla looks tired. This is a lot for one night. You've said what you wanted, Marcus. Let her breathe."
Marcus studied him, then me, like he was measuring the risk. Finally he slid the device back into his pocket. "Rest," he said to me. "And stop letting outsiders fill your head. This is your home."
Home. The word felt bitter. This house never held love, only secrets and control.
He walked toward the stairs, but before going up, he looked back. "And Isla," he added, "remember that your dignity is in my hands." Then he left.
The moment his footsteps faded, my knees felt weak. I sat down slowly, afraid I would fall. The silence he left behind was heavy.
Lucien did not rush to speak. He stayed standing, giving me space. That alone made my chest tighten with mixed feelings. This was the same man I once left because he had no money, no power, no future I could see. Now he stood here like someone who had built himself from nothing.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly after a while. "I didn't want you to find out this way."
I looked at him. "You came to help," I said. "You didn't create this."
His gaze softened. "You still have a way out," he said. "But it has to be planned. Not emotional. Marcus relies on fear."
Fear. Yes, I was afraid. Afraid of shame. Afraid of being trapped. Afraid of choosing wrong. My thoughts pulled me in two directions. One side said stay quiet, survive, protect your name. The other side whispered run, even if the world burns.
"I left you once," I said before I could stop myself. The memory came like a quiet ache. "Because you had nothing."
Lucien did not look hurt. He only nodded slightly. "You chose what you thought was safe," he replied. "I don't blame you. Life taught me fast after that."
I studied his face. He looked stronger now, steadier. There was something about him that said he had seen darkness and learned to walk through it. "Why help me?" I asked.
"Because no one helped you," he said simply. "And because you deserve a choice."
A choice. That word stayed in my head. When was the last time I truly had one?
After he left quietly through the same door, I stayed alone in the living room, listening to my own breathing. My mind would not rest. If Marcus had copies, how many? Where? Who could release them? Could I ever be free?
Hours passed, or maybe minutes. I could not tell. My heart only knew one thing: I could not stay here forever.
A thought slowly formed, dangerous but clear. I needed to leave before he tightened the cage more. Even if it was just for a while. Even if it was messy. I needed space to think, to plan, to breathe.
I went upstairs quietly. Marcus's room door was closed. I moved to the guest room and pulled out a small travel bag. My hands moved on their own as I picked simple clothes, my documents, a few personal items. Every small sound felt loud to my ears. My heartbeat thumped like a drum.
This was crazy. If he released the videos, my life could burn. But if I stayed, my soul would.
I zipped the bag slowly. My head was full of noise. Stay and be safe. Leave and be free. Stay and be silent. Leave and risk everything. The thoughts fought inside me until I felt dizzy.
I walked toward the stairs, each step light. The house was quiet. Maybe he had slept. Maybe this was my only chance.
I reached the living room. My hand touched the door handle. Cold metal. Freedom just beyond it. My breathing turned shallow. This step could change my life forever.
I twisted the handle gently.
The door opened a little.
Hope flickered in my chest.
Then a voice came from behind me, calm and sharp like a knife in the dark.
"Going somewhere, Isla?"
My body froze, I turned slowly.
Marcus stood there, leaning against the wall, eyes fully awake, phone in his hand, that same small smile on his lips.
He had caught me.