Chapter 5: The Dangerous Escape

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I woke up alone.

The bed felt enormous, the sheets cold where Marcus usually slept. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor. I stared at the empty space beside me for a long moment, waiting for the familiar ache of sadness or confusion to hit me.

It never came.

Instead, there was only a strange, quiet emptiness. After last night’s slap, the open marriage agreement, and the way he had looked at me like I was nothing, something inside me had finally shifted.

I dragged myself out of bed, showered, and dressed in simple clothes. As I brushed my hair, I caught sight of the faint bruise on my left cheek. I touched it gently. It was still tender.

Downstairs, breakfast waited on the table, but I had no appetite. My phone rang. Marcus.

“Good morning,” he said cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. “My parents want us for family dinner tonight at seven. Important guests will be there. Dress nicely. I’ll pick you up at six.”

I stayed quiet.

“You okay?” he asked casually.

“Yes,” I replied softly.

“Good. Love you.”

He hung up.

Those words felt completely empty now. The thought of pretending again tonight made me feel suffocated. Before I could change my mind, I messaged the stranger from the gala.

“I can’t meet today. Family obligation. Sorry.”

His reply came fast.

“Not the type to give up easily. Come to my apartment instead. 2 pm. Just talk. No pressure.”

After a long internal battle, I replied, “Okay. Send the address.”

At 1:40, I left the penthouse and took a car to his building.

The door opened moments after I rang the bell.

He stood there in a black t-shirt and jeans, looking relaxed but still powerfully built. A small, warm smile appeared on his face when he saw me.

“You came,” he said.

“I did.”

“Come in, Lilah.”

His apartment was bright and peaceful. I sat on the edge of the sofa, nervous. He took the armchair across from me at first, then moved to sit beside me when he noticed how tense I was.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I said quietly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like that. I used you in a weak moment. That wasn’t right.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t use me. You were in pain. I saw it. I chose to kiss you back. No regrets on my side.”

I looked down. “I’ve never done anything like that before. Marcus was my first and only. And now he wants an open marriage. He wants to sleep with other women to have a child while I stay as his public wife.”

I took a deep breath and told him everything — the fertility struggles, the blackmail with my mother’s medical care, the contract I was forced to sign, and how Marcus had slapped me in the car.

When I finished, he was quiet for a moment.

“He hit you?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yes.”

He gently reached out and brushed his fingers over the faint bruise on my cheek. “No one should ever lay a hand on you like that. I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

I felt tears rising again. “I don’t even know who you are. What’s your name?”

A small, mysterious smile touched his lips. “You can call me Callboy for now.”

I blinked. “Callboy?”

He shrugged lightly. “It’s what you came looking for that night, isn’t it? Let’s keep it simple for now.”

Despite everything, his answer made me almost smile. There was something strangely comforting about his calm presence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked. “You don’t even know me.”

“Because I saw a woman who was desperate and hurting,” he said honestly. “And I know what it feels like when the person who’s supposed to protect you becomes the one who hurts you the most.”

His words hit deep. I felt my shoulders relax a little.

“I feel so guilty being here,” I admitted. “Like I’m doing something wrong.”

“You’re not wrong for wanting to feel safe, Lilah. You’re not wrong for wanting to be treated like a human being.”

We talked for a long time. He listened patiently as I shared more about my eight years of marriage, the sacrifices I had made, and how lost I felt now. He spoke little about himself but offered quiet, steady support.

“I should go,” I said eventually, standing up. “This is getting dangerous.”

He stood too and caught my hand gently. “Wait.”

I turned back. He stepped closer, his eyes locked on mine. The air between us felt charged.

Slowly, he leaned in and kissed me.

At first, the kiss was soft and careful, giving me every chance to pull away. His lips moved gently against mine, warm and patient. When I didn’t move back, he deepened the kiss, one hand cupping my face while the other rested respectfully on my waist. His thumb brushed lightly over my bruised cheek with such tenderness that it made my heart ache.

I kissed him back. My hands found his chest, then slid up to his shoulders. The kiss grew more intense but stayed gentle. There was no rush, no force — only a deep, comforting warmth that made me feel wanted for the first time in years. His lips were firm yet soft, moving with a quiet confidence that made my knees feel weak. I let out a small, involuntary sound as he tilted his head slightly, kissing me more fully.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing slightly heavier.

“Still okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak.

“You’re safe here,” he murmured. “With me, you’re safe.”

I believed him.

As Lilah pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily and feeling completely overwhelmed, Damien looked into her eyes and said softly, “Stay a little longer. You’re safe here.”

I stood there, heart pounding, realizing I was dangerously drawn to this man. And for the first time, I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave