MasukThe limo finally stopped. I don't even know how long we were driving because I was too busy losing my mind.
"Get out!" Alexander barks. He didn't even care about me. He just got out into the rain and left me to deal with this giant wedding dress by myself. I literally had to crawl out of the car, dragging all this expensive white fabric behind me. We went straight up some private elevator, and the next thing I know, we are inside his penthouse. The place is huge. Like, crazy huge. Floors made of marble and giant windows everywhere. "Everybody out!" he shouts to the security guys. The guards clear out in a second. Suddenly the whole place is dead silent, and it's just me and him. I'm just standing there in the middle of the room, shivering and sweating at the same time. I don't know what to do with my hands. "Please, Alexander," I blurt out. Words are just tumbling out of my mouth because I'm so nervous. "I know you're mad. I know I'm not Chloe. But I had to do it. My stepmother Beatrice is totally crazy. She was gonna turn off my dad's machines tonight. I have no money at all. Please don't hurt him." Alexander doesn't say anything. He just stares at me blankly. He slowly takes off his suit jacket, drops it on the floor, and starts unbuttoning his shirt. Oh my god... He looks older and way more intimidating up close. And so hot. Like, dangerously hot. The boyish look from the old magazine covers is completely gone. This is the adult, billionaire version of him. His jawline is so hard and his chest is so broad under that white shirt. I can literally hear my ovaries dying right now. My body completely betrays me because I'm terrified but I can't stop looking at him. He walks right up to me. He is way too tall. I have to tilt my head all the way back just to see his face. Then he smirks. It’s this cold, mean smirk. "Oh, I know your little story, Elena Costa," he says, his voice dripping with venom. I froze. "You... you know who I am?" "Did you really think I wouldn't check?" He chuckles, a dark, mocking sound. "I knew the second I touched your hand at the altar. You don't smell like Chloe. You're the broke stepdaughter. The one nobody cares about." Tears started falling down from face again. I feel like absolute crap. "Your stepmother is a fool," he continues, his voice sharp and deadly. "She wanted the Vance family money so bad she threw you to the wolves the second Chloe ran away with her secret boyfriend." "I don't care about the money!" I cry out, letting the tears ruin my makeup. "I just wanted to save my dad!" Instead of answering me, Alexander raises his hand. I flinch and close my eyes tight, thinking he's gonna hit me. But he doesn't. To my absolute horror, he touches my face. Slowly. Smoothly. His fingers caress my right cheek, and it feels so soft it sends a crazy shiver straight down my spine. I don't know if I'm shaking from fear or something else. "Why would I kill someone as beautiful as you, Elena?" he whispers, his voice taunting with danger underneath. "You have this face that makes men lose control. All those rich guys at the church couldn't stop staring at you. They wanted a piece of you." His fingers trail down my jaw, squeezing it hard so I can't look away from his dark eyes. "Not knowing you already belong to me." He moves away suddenly and sits down in a giant leather chair. He leans back, spreads his legs apart like a king, and looks down his nose at me. "From now on, Elena Jones, you are mine to use. Mine to play with. Mine to do with as I please." The words hit me like a heart attack. "Your body belongs to me. Your mind belongs to me. Your soul belongs to me," he smirks. "I own you." I shake my head No. Again and again, I shake my head. "But there's a contract! You can't just do this! The contract was for Chloe!" He laughs out loud, low and cold, his mockery slicing right through me. "You really are stupid, aren't you?" He reaches into his desk and throws a piece of paper on the floor. "Your stepmother already signed the new papers this afternoon. The contract doesn't say Chloe anymore. It says Elena. I paid off your dad's hospital bills in full, and she signed your life away for a wire transfer. You're mine." My breath catches. I feel myself choking on my thoughts. My own family literally sold me to a billionaire monster like eating cement. "I thought you were just a fake princess," he continues mockingly, standing up and walking back toward me. Slowly. Purposefully. "But you're just a girl wearing rags, living on my money now. Life outside must have been tough, huh?" I have nothing to do but cry, letting the tears fall. He reaches me and wipes a tear from my cheek. I flinch, but I don't move. Then, to my absolute horror, he puts his finger in his mouth and licks it. "I love the taste of your tears," he murmurs, his voice calm and gentle, which makes it ten times worse. "There's going to be a lot of crying for you in this house." Panic swells inside me. I think of my dad. I have to survive this. "I'm not doing this," I say, trying to sound strong but my voice is trembling. "I'm not staying here to be your toy. Just let me go." Silence. Then he laughs. Deep. Dark. Amused. He claps his hands together. "That was one hell of a performance," he says sarcastically. "Now. Get on your knees." His voice is filled with command, power, and absolute authority. I freeze. My mind is at war with itself. Some part of me wants to run, but what the hell am I kneeling for? Is he going to execute me? The thought slips out before I can stop it. "Are you going to kill me?" He laughs. Slow. Dark. Twisting his fingers into the strands of my hair, he plays with it lazily, like a cat with a mouse. "Why would I kill you? That's too much drama. The cleanup, the press... It's a hassle. You're not worth it," he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. "I could just feed you to my dogs if I wanted to." A shiver of horror runs through me. My eyes widen with fear, and he chuckles. Then his expression goes completely cold. "On your knees. Little butterfly." I hesitate for a second before sinking down onto the floor. What choice do I have? He looks down at me, playing with my hair, running his fingers along my lips as if he's testing me. My stomach twists with nerves. Desperate, I finally whisper, "What do you want, Alexander? What will make you let me go?" He smiles. It’s slow, calculating. "I want a lot of things from you, Elena," he says, and his hands suddenly drop to his waist. The sharp click of his belt buckle echoes through the room. Then his zipper. And suddenly—he’s taking himself out. His dick is right there in my face. It is hot and angry, its veins bulging right there in front of me. I don’t know what to do. I’m completely frozen in place. "Be a good girl and open up," he commands, his voice low and cruel. "Why are you doing this to me?" I ask, tears blurring my vision. "I'm giving you a choice," he says, brushing my hair softly, tenderly, as if he actually cares about me. But I know that’s bullshit. "Do you want to go back to your stepmother and let your dad die, or are you going to stay here as my whore? You can only have one." I cannot believe this. I just kneel there wondering what I have to do. All of those options sound like absolute hell. "If I do this, will you let me go?" I ask, my voice cracking. "Give me your word." He scoffs. "Let's see how talented you are first. If you can get me to come in your mouth, then maybe I'll think about it." "Open up," he barks, his dick inches from my face. It's already leaking pre-cum. He moves closer. "Take your tongue out," he orders. I obey, extending my tongue. He uses his hand to smear the pre-cum onto my tongue. "Swallow," he orders. I swallow. "Open up," he repeats. I take him in, just the tip, then deeper and deeper. Both his hands grip my hair tightly, anchoring him. I look up at him, trapped, forced to watch him. His breath comes in ragged gasps. There is no gentleness in his eyes, only raw lust and rage. Before I can react, he thrusts fully into my mouth. It feels like hours have passed. My mouth aches, and my jaw feels completely locked. He draws it out, teasing, prolonging every second. Each time he nears his climax, he pulls back, torturing me. I didn't know how to process the unsettling sensations it was stirring inside me—feelings I desperately tried to ignore. Right here, right now, I was literally fighting for my dad's life. That was my only focus. When he finally withdrew, I tried to move my aching jaw. So I was both shocked and surprised when he released his cum all over my face and my hair. That was a lot of cum. It was dripping down my forehead, sticky and hot, getting into my eyes. I couldn't even open my eyelids. I just kept kneeling there, shocked, as it dripped down my lips. After a minute of silence, I heard the sound of his zipper closing. Eagerly, I asked, "Are we done now? Are you going to leave me alone?" The answer I got was a low chuckle. "Not even close. I am never letting you go, Elena, ever." I felt my anger rising. "What do you mean? You promised me! You said if I get you to come, you'd let me go!" He laughed again, a predatory sound. "You should really pay attention, Elena. I didn't say if I come, I said if I come inside your mouth I would let you go. And as we both witnessed, I didn't come inside your mouth. So no, I'm not letting you go." "You... you tricked me!" "You should have hung onto my dick tighter then," he scoffed. "If you did, you would be free right now." Something snapped inside me. The humiliation was too much. "Fuck you, Alexander!" I spat. He chuckled, dark and amused. "I'll be enjoying doing that to you every day, in every way." I felt a fresh wave of despair swallowing me. My face was streaked with his cum. I was a broken mess. Then his voice, completely cold, cut through my crying. "Here is what you're going to do. I'm going to give you two hours. Go back to your crappy apartment and pack a bag. Take only the essentials. A guard will pick you up. See you in two hours, wife." "No, wait!" I cried, frantically wiping the stickiness from my eyes with my wedding dress sleeve, desperate to see him clearly. "I'm not going to your apartment! I won't do it!" He smiled, a slow, predatory curve of his lips as he walked toward the door. "You have two choices, Elena—to die, or to have a luxurious life where you pay for your family's sins. Which one is it?" I didn't give him an answer. I didn't have one. He smiled, a winning smile, and turned the doorknob. He was about to leave when I remembered the most important thing. "Wait!" I shouted, my voice desperate. "I have somebody else depending on me! I can't just leave them!" He stopped, his gaze sharp and questioning. "What?" he scoffed. "A boyfriend? Don't tell me you're already pregnant or something?" He laughed mockingly. "No," I said, biting my lip. "Then who the hell is it?" he snapped, filled with impatience. I stammered. I didn't want to say it. But I knew he would track me down anyway. "What?" he barked. "Speak!" I swallowed hard, the secret burning in my throat. And before I could stop myself, I blurted out the truth. "It's my four-year-old son!”Make it make sense. Seriously, I need somebody to explain to me how this is real life, because my brain was completely short-circuiting. I’m standing in a freezing cold, hyper-luxurious master bedroom, staring at Viktor’s bruised, bloody knuckles, while he casually explains that my own stepmother is on a mafia payroll. Not just any payroll. Marcus Rossi’s payroll. The guy who ordered a sniper to shoot up a charity gala. The guy who actively wants my husband—fake husband, whatever—dead. And Beatrice took his money. Look, I always knew Beatrice was garbage. Like, literal, bottom-of-the-barrel human trash. When my dad got sick, this woman practically forced me to sleep on a broken metal cot in our cramped laundry room just so she could turn my actual childhood bedroom into a walk-in closet for her counterfeit designer bags. I knew she was greedy. I knew she was toxic. Hell, I already knew she sold me off to Alexander in a marriage contract just to clear her own gambling debts. That
I pulled an all-nighter, and not the fun kind where you're out in the East Village grabbing 3 a.m. diner fries with your girls. Zero sleep. My brain was just fried. Every tiny sound had me jumping out of my skin. The wind whistling against the glass panels, a floorboard giving a small groan in the hall—I was practically levitating off that stupidly soft mattress. Just picture it for a second. You find out there's a literal snake hiding in the security team. These massive guys walking around in tactical suits getting paid six figures by the Vance empire, and one of them sold my cell number out for blood money. Which meant the guy standing guard two feet from my door could be working for the same mobsters who tried to snatch my four-year-old son. I was losing my mind. By seven in the morning, the heavy bedroom lock clicked open with this sharp, metal snap. I practically threw myself in front of Leo before the doors even swung wide. It wasn't a hitman, though. Dr. Evans shuffled
So yeah. That’s how I ended up trapped in a giant, hyper-luxurious bedroom on the top floor of a Manhattan skyscraper like a literal princess in a dark mafia fairy tale. Ngl, if you told me six months ago that I’d be hostage to a gorgeous, psycho billionaire who just took a sniper bullet to the shoulder for me, I would’ve laughed in your face and told you to stop watching so much bad TV. But here I was. It was like three in the morning. The penthouse was dead quiet except for the faint hum of the central air conditioning. Dr. Evans finally packed up his silver silver instruments and left after giving Alexander enough painkillers to put down a full-grown horse. Viktor posted two massive, human-brick-wall guards directly outside the master bedroom doors. You could literally hear their heavy boots shifting every five minutes. Leo was completely knocked out next to me on the massive king bed. My little guy was so exhausted from all the chaos he didn't even wake up when I pulled his s
So there I was, sitting cross-legged on this absurdly soft, multi-thousand-dollar king bed, trying to calm Leo down while my heart was still basically doing the Macarena in my ribs. I was completely spiraling, ngl. One second I’m two inches away from freedom, and the next, my fake-husband mafia boss drags me back into his golden cage while literally bleeding out through his shirt. It was giving pure, unhinged toxicity. Alexander stood by the heavy mahogany doors for a solid minute, just staring at me. His face was ghostly pale, sweat dripping down his sharp jawline, and that dark red spot on his bandages was slowly getting bigger. The man looked like he was about to faint, but he was standing there like a statue out of pure, stubborn spite. "You need to lie down before you pass out on my shoes," I muttered, glaring at him while patting Leo’s back. "Seriously, Alexander. Dr. Evans is gonna lose his mind if he has to stitch you up a second time." Alexander didn't move. He just le
I didn't feel scared anymore. I didn't feel like crying. I didn't even feel the cold air coming through the open balcony door. All I felt was pure, unfiltered, absolute rage. Chloe. My own twin sister. The girl who used to steal my lip gloss and cry when she got a bad grade in high school. She was the one who sold Julian to the mob. She was the reason I spent four years struggling in a crappy apartment, crying myself to sleep, eating ramen while my kid wore hand-me-down shoes. And now she was marching up here to steal my son for a payout? Absolutely freaking not. Not today. Not ever. Alexander didn't even have to tell me to move. I was already sprinting. I ditched my ruined designer heels completely and ran barefoot down the long hallway, my torn silk dress flying behind me. "Viktor, hold the chokepoint at the elevators!" Alexander’s voice boomed behind me. The guy literally had a fresh bullet hole in his chest, but he was barking orders like a five-star general. "Nobody breache
when I tell you my actual soul left my body and floated right up to the ceiling of that stupidly expensive office, I am not even exaggerating. I was completely paralyzed. Alexander Vance was standing in the doorway looking like a literal ghost who just rolled out of the ER. His dark eyes were glued to the bright red folder in my hands. He had his gun pointed down at the floor, but his knuckles were totally white. He was gripping that thing like he was about to lose his absolute mind. "I asked you a question, Elena," he said. His voice was so quiet. It was that dangerous, low tone that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up. He took one slow step into the office, and the heavy wooden doors clicked shut behind him. I scrambled backward on the carpet like a crab. Ngl, it was not my finest moment. I completely tangled my legs in my shredded, blood-stained designer gown. "Don't come near me!" I screamed, my voice bouncing off the glass walls. "You are a liar!







