Chapter 2: The Golden Cage

**Leylie’s POV **

When the bedroom door finally closed behind them, the silence was so much louder than the moans and the sound of skin against skin that filled the room just moments earlier.

I sat exactly where he’d left me, my wrists raw and stinging where the rope had bitten into them, watching the ceiling fan spin in lazy, indifferent circles. I no longer felt the tears. They had dried into itchy salt streaks on my cheeks, leaving my skin feeling tight and brittle.

I heard the front door open and close. Cass was gone. She could walk into the cool Los Angeles night, call an Uber, and laugh about the evening later with friends over drinks. She was free in a way I couldn’t even remember anymore. While I remained here, still tied to this house, to this life, to him.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened again. Finnian entered, wearing a fresh charcoal-colored robe, his hair damp from a quick shower, smelling of lime and cedarwood. He looked almost tender as he crossed the room and knelt before me. “My poor, sweet Leylie,” he murmured, voice low and soothing as his fingers moved carefully over the knots, untying them.

“Look at you. You’re trembling.”

My hands dropped to my lap the moment the rope fell away. They felt limp, heavy, and sore. I didn't move. I didn't rub the angry red lines on my wrists. I just stared through him, my gaze fixed on a spot on the wall that felt far more real than the man kneeling before me.

"Don't give me that look," he said quietly, reaching up to cup my face, his thumb brushing my bottom lip. “You know you brought this on yourself, don’t you?” His voice dropped even lower, almost intimate. “If you hadn’t lied about Grace… if you hadn’t gone behind my back to talk to her when I specifically told you not to… none of this would have happened. I hate seeing you like this, baby. It hurts me to have to be the one who teaches you. But I have to. You understand that now, right?”

He leaned in closer and brushed a stray hair behind my ear with a touch so light it made my skin crawl.

I finally looked at him, my throat tight with a mix of bile and tears. “You brought her... into our bed, Finn. On our anniversary.”

“Don't be like that, my love.” He tilted his head, his expression open and earnest, like he genuinely didn’t understand why I was upset. “Didn’t you notice? I didn’t kiss her once on the lips, and I used a condom. I’d never put your health at risk, honey. That’s how much I respect you. That’s how much I value what we have.”

I stared at him, my mouth slightly parted at his words.

Respect?

Something hot rose inside me so fast I couldn’t stop it. “Respect?” I choked out. “Really?”

My hands still half-numb, shot forward and shoved against his chest with every bit of strength I had left. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me!”

He stumbled backward more from surprise than the force of it, landing on one knee, but the silence that followed was deadly. The 'gentle’ husband vanished in a heartbeat. He stood slowly, his jaw tensed, eyes darkening until they looked almost black under the low light.

“You put your hands on me?” His voice was quiet, dangerously calm. “I came in here to forgive you for your lies. To comfort you. And you shove me?”

“I’m leaving!” I scrambled out of the chair; my legs shook so badly I had to grab the edge to stand. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore, Finn. I’m going to my mom’s. I’m done!”

He straightened his robe, his expression darkening into the familiar, dangerous mask of cold fury. "Leylie, watch your tone. I’ve been extremely patient with you tonight. Don’t push your luck.”

"Patient?" I let out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. "You’re horrible, Finnian. You hurt me, you humiliate me, you cheat on me in our own bed. I’m not your dog. I’m a human being! I’m not something you get to train.”

I didn't wait for his response. I turned and bolted for the door, my heart pounding against my ribs. I had no plan. I didn't have my purse, phone, or even shoes. I just knew I needed to leave immediately or I would suffocate.

​I made it three steps toward the door before his voice stopped me like a hand around my throat. 

“Go ahead. Walk out that door, Leylie.”

​I stopped, my hand hovering over the door handle.

"I mean," he continued, pulling his phone from his robe pocket, "that every action has a consequence. You’re angry. You want to be free tonight? Fine. But tell me honestly, is your freedom worth your sister’s entire future?”

My blood turned to ice. "What does Maya have to do with this? Leave her alone, Finnian."

"I just sent you a video," he said, tapping the screen. "It’s from her dorm room. She looks so happy, doesn't she? Studying late. She thinks she’s finally going to be someone. She thinks she’s safe because her big sister married a rich man."

I shook my head, eyes wide with horror. "What did you do?"

"Nothing... yet," he said, taking a slow, predatory step toward me. "But I was just thinking about the Dean of her university. We’re old friends, you know. We play golf every Sunday. I’m also the primary donor for the new science wing. One phone call from me, one mention of irregularities in her admission, or a withdrawal of her scholarship, and she’s out. Expelled. Blacklisted. She’ll be back in the gutter with you in twenty-four hours."

He stopped just inches from me, his presence looming over me like a shadow.

“Is that what you want? To watch your little sister’s whole life collapse because you couldn’t control your temper for one night? Because you thought, for five stupid minutes, that you actually had the right to walk away from me?”

My heart stopped. I turned around, my breath hitching in my throat. The small flame of rebellion I had felt moments ago wasn't just extinguished; it was drowned out. He knew exactly where to hit me. He knew I would endure a thousand deaths before I let Maya lose the life I had sold myself to give her.

"Please," I choked out, my head dropping. The fight left me all at once, leaving me feeling smaller and more fragile than ever before. "Please, don't hurt her. She has done nothing wrong."

​“Come here,” he commanded.

​I didn't move; I just stared at my feet.

​“I said, Come here, Leylie. Or I'll make the call.”

My legs felt like lead as I walked back to him, shrinking under his gaze. He didn't move an inch as I approached. He waited until I was standing right in front of him, my head bowed, my spirit crushed back into the dirt where he liked it.

​“I’m waiting,” he prompted.

​“I’m... I’m sorry,” the words tasted like poison on my tongue. “I shouldn't have pushed you. Please don’t hurt her.”

He let out a satisfied sigh and ran his fingers through my hair, tugging just enough to make me look up at him. “See? That’s my girl. You’re so much prettier when you’re grateful.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. Then he covered my lips with his, but there was no love in it. It was hard and possessive, his teeth grazing my lip, a clear reminder that he owned the mouth he was kissing. He owned the air I breathed. He owned the people I loved.

I stood there, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides, as he claimed me once again. I was powerless. And as his tongue forced its way past my lips, I knew the truth: I wasn't his wife. I was his property. And there was no escape.

Finnian pulled back just an inch, his eyes dark with a sick kind of satisfaction.

“Now, go change the bedspread,” his voice was suddenly casual again, as though we’d only been discussing the weather, “It’s covered in Cass’s cum; she’s a messy one, likes to squirt all over everything.”

I flinched as the words hit me like a physical slap, but he didn't even blink. He just reached out and smoothed my hair back from my damp face with the same gentle fingers that had tied me to the chair earlier.

​“Hurry up, my love. It’s still our anniversary, after all, and we have a very long night ahead of us.”