CHAPTER 3: THE PENTHOUSE

CLARA'S POV

The flight didn't last long enough to quiet the panic in my chest.

By the time the matte-black helicopter touched down on the private skyscraper helipad, my fingers were practically frozen to the edges of the leather-bound contract. The wind whipped my silk gown violently around my legs as I stepped out into the biting night air, taking in the towering silhouette of the Volkov headquarters.

It pierced the sky like a black glass dagger, a monument to one man's absolute control over the city grid.

I followed Ares through a set of heavy security doors and into a private elevator. The doors sealed shut with a pressurized hiss, and the elevator shot downward at a dizzying, stomach-churning speed.

When the doors slid open, we stepped directly into his penthouse. The space was immense, bounded by sleek minimalist lines and towering floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the glowing grid of the city skyline below.

It was a masterpiece of cold, brutalist luxury—polished concrete floors, stark monochrome furniture, and an oppressive, suffocating silence. I realized instantly that this wasn't just a home. It was a fortress. And I was its newest prisoner.

A grand staircase curved toward a second level. To my left, a sleek black kitchen gleamed beneath soft pendant lights, untouched, as though no one had ever cooked there. Beyond it, a long dining table sat perfectly set for two.

Everything was immaculate. Beautiful. Lifeless.

There wasn't a single photograph. Not a family portrait. Not a childhood memory framed on a shelf. Nothing that suggested laughter had ever existed within these walls.

For the first time, I wondered what kind of man built himself a palace that felt so completely empty.

My childhood home had never been quiet. Staff moved through the halls, my father barked orders from his study, and music always drifted from the kitchen. I had spent years wishing for a little peace. Standing here now, I realized silence could be far lonelier than noise.

Ares walked into the center of the grand room, unbuttoning his tailored charcoal suit jacket. He didn't turn around to look at me as he spoke, his deep voice slicing through the quiet.

"We need to establish the parameters of your stay, Clara. Listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself." He turned, his icy winter-sea eyes pinning me to the floor. "Rule number one: Never enter my bedroom without my explicit permission.

Rule number two: Never touch anything in my personal office. Rule number three: You will never ask questions about my private calls or business meetings."

He stepped closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow over me. "Dinner is served at a fixed time every evening. When guests are present in this penthouse, you will speak only when spoken to. The silver collar remains locked away in your quarters unless I say otherwise. And finally, if I call you, you answer immediately. No exceptions."

Even hidden away, the collar still belonged to him. Just like the rest of my life.

A spark of the old Sterling pride flared beneath my exhaustion. I clenched my fists, staring up at him. "And if I need to leave? To see my father? Am I allowed to have a life outside of your parameters?"

Ares’s expression hardened, a cruel, devastating smirk playing on his lips. "You signed."

I had signed. I had done it with steady hands and a breaking heart.

Somehow, hearing him say the words hurt more than writing my name ever had. I hated the absolute reality of my submission wired into every legal clause of that document.

Ares turned his back to me, walking toward the massive double doors of his private wing. "Be downstairs at eight tomorrow morning. I don't tolerate lateness."

The apartment swallowed him, and with him went the last human sound in the penthouse.

I stood alone in the middle of the vast living room, wrapping my arms around myself against a cold that had nothing to do with the night outside.

For the first time since the auction, there was no one watching me.

One tear slipped down my cheek.

I wiped it away before another could follow.

I couldn't afford to fall apart. Not here.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, realizing I started work in less than twelve hours.

I glanced one last time at the towering windows overlooking the sleeping city.

Tomorrow, I would walk into Volkov Global as the daughter of the man Ares hated most.

And somehow...

I had to survive.