“You don't belong here". That was the first thing Xavier Rodriguez — my father's estranged billionaire best friend said to me the very moment I stepped into his estate. I was wearing the same dress I had buried my father in. I squared my shoulders and stared at him eyeball to eyeball. “ I'll break you”. Cold, cruel and rich beyond reason. My new legal guardian wants to ruin me. He wants to own me; my mind, my soul and my body. Every look, every scorching touch and every whispered threat was an emotional blackmail I hadn't prepared for. Neither was he.
Узнайте большеSophia POV
The church was half-empty. Not that I expected a crowd. My father wasn’t the kind of man people loved, he was the kind they feared, respected and tolerated at best.
The air was thick with incense and fake condolences. I sat on the front pew, stiff in a borrowed black dress that clung too tightly to my chest, and tried not to choke on the weight of silence around me.
When the priest mumbled the final amen, I stood before they even lowered the casket, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. If I didn’t leave, I’d scream. Or laugh. Neither would go over well.
“Miss Sophia,” a man in a charcoal suit stepped into my path as I reached the doors. “Mr. Hartwell’s office is ready for you.”
Of course. The will was the real reason I showed up in this funeral dress. Closure didn’t matter. Money did. I didn’t have enough left to pretend otherwise.
I followed him into a sleek black car waiting at the curb, and twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a leather chair opposite my father's lawyer. A gray-haired, wrinkled bastard who looked like he belonged in a mafia movie.
“Thank you for coming,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I replied. “Let’s get on with it.”
He hesitated. “There are...conditions.”
“Conditions?” I arched my brow. “What, he wants me to spend a night in a haunted house before I can collect his money?”
The door behind me creaked open. A chill shot down my spine.
“That won’t be necessary,” a deep, smooth voice said.
I turned.
And time stopped.
He walked in like he owned the world and judging by the suit, the watch, and the air of calculated menace, maybe he did.
He was tall, broad shouldered with dark raven hair and a razor-cut jaw and eyes that looked cold as ice
He looked at me like I was dirt under his shoe.
“Who…” I started.
“This is Mr. Xavier Rodriguez,” Hartwell interrupted. “Your father’s best friend. His appointed heir and your legal guardian until you turn twenty-one.”
I blinked.
“Come again?”
Xavier didn’t say a word. Just stared me down, cold and sharp, like I was a problem he was already tired of solving.
“I don’t need a guardian, much less an estranged best friend from the pit of hell,” I snapped.
He finally spoke, voice like velvet laced with poison. “Doesn’t matter what you need. You’re under my legal care now.”
“I’m twenty,” I hissed. “I don’t need babysitting…”
He cut me off. “You need discipline. Something your father clearly failed at.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
I shot a glare at the lawyer. “This is some kind of sick joke, right?”
Hartwell cleared his throat. “It’s all legally binding. Your father... had his reasons.”
“I bet he did,” Xavier muttered under his breath.
I stood up, fists clenched. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Xavier said coolly. “Pack your things. You’re moving into my estate tonight.”
“Like hell I am.”
He stepped closer. His scent hit me first, it stirred something within me. I could tell this guy was dangerous
“I’m not your friend, Sophia,” he murmured. “I’m not here to comfort you. You’re nothing more than a responsibility that I inherited. So don’t mistake this arrangement for anything other than what it is.”
“And what exactly is it?”
His lips curved almost into a smile, but not quite.
“Punishment.”
***
The front door creaked as I stepped inside, expecting the familiar smell of dust, leftover whiskey, and stale cigar smoke.
But the air was empty.
Not just the air, the whole damn house.
Gone.
The worn leather sofa where I’d cried myself to sleep after Mom left? Gone.
The kitchen table with burn marks from my terrible attempt at making crème brûlée for Father’s birthday? Gone.
My bedroom, the only space that had been mine, was gutted. No bed. No closet. Not even the chipped mug I kept on the windowsill filled with pens that didn’t work.
I stood in the middle of the hollow room like a ghost, stunned.
“What the hell…” I whispered, spinning in place. “Where is everything?”
The only thing left was a manila envelope taped to the wall.
I snatched it off, heart racing, and yanked it open.
“All personal items have been placed in storage by request of Mr. Xavier Kane. The house has been vacated and listed for lease as of this morning. A new keyholder will arrive tomorrow to prepare for viewings. Any attempt to remain on the property will be considered trespassing. – Hartwell Legal Group.”
No. No, no, no.
I dropped the envelope. It hit the floor with a whisper, but it felt like a scream.
I didn’t even realize I was running until I hit the stairs and whenl I reached my old bedroom, i collapsed on the floor where my bed used to be.
The walls echoed with nothing.
No pictures. No life.
Just white paint and silence.
It hit me all at once, hard and mean and messy.
I didn’t just lose a father.
I lost my house.
My room.
My past.
I had nowhere left to go.
And for the first time since the funeral, since the will, since Xavier looked at me like I was trash on his designer shoes…
I cried, I pressed my palms to my face and screamed into the emptiness, my voice bouncing off the
bare walls.
“Why did you hate me that much?” I whispered to no one.
Sophia’s POVI stepped into the dining room and froze. Xavier was already there, watching me like he could see everything I was trying to hide.“Sleep well?” he asked, voice casual, but there was something in his tone.“Perfectly,” I replied, forcing a smile.He didn’t move his eyes away from me. “You look flushed.”My fork slipped. I caught it quickly. “Must be the weather.”He smirked slightly. “Or the dreams.”I tried to keep my voice steady. “I don’t dream about you.”He folded the paper slowly. “Good to know.”He gestured to the seat across from him. “Sit.”I sat, but I could feel his gaze drilling into me.“Anything you want to confess?”“No.” My voice was sharper than I wanted. “Why would I?”He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Because I like confessions.”I looked away. “You should be careful what you wish for.”He chuckled quietly. “That depends on who’s confessing.”Breakfast was a silent battlefield. I escaped to the garden as soon as I could.A bench, a qu
Sophia’s POV Three days.That’s how long I was supposed to be confined to my room.But punishment doesn’t work the way Xavier thinks it does.Isolation? Silence? A room with a view of the ocean, soft sheets, and a bookshelf full of vintage poetry?That wasn’t punishment. It was preparation.Because the longer I sat in that gilded cage, the more I realized something terrifying.He didn’t just want control.He wanted submission and submission wasn’t in my blood.By the second day, I’d stopped pretending to read. The books blurred in front of me. My mind circled one thing over and over like a shark circling a drop of blood in open water.The office. The file. The photos.The way his voice changed when he said I belonged to him.I kept replaying the way he’d pinned me without touching me. The threat of something more in every word. The heat that surged inside me when he got close.And worse, how much I wanted more of it.That realization made me furious.So on the third night, I changed
I wasn’t sure if it was the architecture of Xavier’s fortress of a mansion or some strange electrical current running through the walls, or if I was just starting to lose my mind. It had only been four days…. four days since I walked into this house. Four days of silence, stiffness, and eyes that followed me like shadows I couldn’t shake.Xavier didn’t speak to me unless it was necessary, but he looked at me. God, he looked at me. Whenever I passed the sitting room where he read the paper, when I stood in the kitchen pouring coffee I didn’t even want, when I wandered into the library and pretended I didn’t feel his presence before I saw him, there was always that brief pause, that moment of stillness, like he was fighting something and losing.I wasn’t winning either.I wore shorts to breakfast, tiny ones, black and soft, clinging to my hips like a second skin. I paired them with an oversized white t-shirt that hung off one shoulder, exposing the strap of my bra. Let him say something
Sophia POV The gates opened, black and heavy, as Xavier drove through. I sat in the back seat, arms crossed. He hadn’t said a word the whole ride.When we stopped, he got out, slammed his door, then opened mine.“Move.”I grabbed my duffel bag. “You’re a real charmer.”“Inside,” he said, already walking ahead.We went down a long hall. I asked, “Where’s the staff?”“You don’t need them.”He stopped at a door, opened it. “This is your room.”I stepped in, glanced around. “Not much color. You allergic to it?”He didn’t react. Instead, he handed me a folded paper.“What’s this?”“Your rules.”I skimmed them, no West Wing, no guests, curfew, mandatory meals, no office access, no purchases, no media, no speaking unless spoken to.I laughed. “You’re kidding.”“You live here under my terms. Disobey, and I’ll make you regret it.”“Do all your prisoners get a list like this?”“This isn’t prison.”“Could’ve fooled me.”He stepped closer. “Push me, little girl, and I’ll push back harder.”“I’m
Sophia POVThe church was half-empty. Not that I expected a crowd. My father wasn’t the kind of man people loved, he was the kind they feared, respected and tolerated at best.The air was thick with incense and fake condolences. I sat on the front pew, stiff in a borrowed black dress that clung too tightly to my chest, and tried not to choke on the weight of silence around me. When the priest mumbled the final amen, I stood before they even lowered the casket, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. If I didn’t leave, I’d scream. Or laugh. Neither would go over well.“Miss Sophia,” a man in a charcoal suit stepped into my path as I reached the doors. “Mr. Hartwell’s office is ready for you.”Of course. The will was the real reason I showed up in this funeral dress. Closure didn’t matter. Money did. I didn’t have enough left to pretend otherwise.I followed him into a sleek black car waiting at the curb, and twenty minutes later, I was sitting in a leather chair opposite my
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