Chapter 3: "You're all mine"

Elena paced about the room restlessly, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as though she could hold herself together that way.

The thin robe they’d left for her, slipped off one shoulder with every sharp turn she made, but she didn’t bother to fix it.

His voice looped in her skull, calm and merciless.

“I record everything. It’s how I remember who owes me.”

What did that even mean?

Was the recording insurance? Blackmail? Leverage for some long, calculated revenge she hadn’t yet understood?

Or worse, would he leak it? Sell it? Release it anonymously and let it spread like wildfire until the world saw the fearless investigative journalist who once exposed corruption, now whimpering her darkest fantasies to the man she’d destroyed?

Her stomach churned as she stopped in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection.

Her mascara was smudged under her eyes, lips swollen from biting them, hair wild from running frantic fingers through it. Elena looked hunted.

She couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t sit still. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face—those cold eyes darkening as she confessed, the way his throat had worked when she admitted her fantasies featured him.

She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and tapped the single encrypted messaging app they’d pre-installed. Maya’s name popped up immediately. Without hesitation, she hit the call button.

“El?” Her voice came through as soon as she picked the call.

“God, finally. Are you okay? Where are you right now?”

“Still here.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat and forced steadiness.

“In the suite. He left maybe an hour ago. I… I told him things, Maya. Things I’ve never told anyone.”

Silence stretched on the other end before Maya finally spoke.

“Why did you tell him all that?”

“I thought—” She paused for a while and blinked her eyes rapidly.

“I thought if I gave him something raw, something real, I could get inside his head and collect some information. But he just… he just listened and recorded it.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, but she wiped them off immediately, and sniffled.

“I thought I could seduce him,” she whispered.

“I thought I could take control. And now, he has my voice saying I want to beg. That I want to be edged until I cry. That the man in my head looks like him.”

Maya took in a deep breath. “Jesus, El.”

“What if he publishes it?” Elena's voice rose, trembling.

“What if he sends it to editors I know? To sources? To my old contacts? What if it ends up online somewhere anonymous and viral? I’ll never work again. I’ll be the story instead of writing it.”

“Hey. Hey, breathe," Maya blurted. "We’re going to figure this out. I’m thinking. Just… give me a second.”

Elena sank onto the edge of the bed, and drew up her knees, robe pooling around her thighs. She pressed the phone harder against her ear like it could anchor her.

After a long moment, Maya spoke again.

“I think I have an idea.”

Elena stopped breathing, and blurted. “What?”

“You remember Mr. Godfrey?”

“Mr Godfrey,” Elena said flatly. “The one who proposed to marry me?"

“Exactly.” Maya replied sharply.

“He’s got money, connections, lawyers who eat people like Soren Vale for breakfast. He’s been trying to lock you down for years. If you accept his proposal, even temporarily he could put pressure on the Exchange. Pull strings. Get you out early. Or at least get that recording destroyed before it sees daylight.”

Elena stared at the dark window, seeing nothing but her own pale reflection.

Mr Godfrey was sixty-two. Silver hair, always dressed in an impeccable suit, with a gentle smile that never quite reached his eyes.

He owned half the waterfront properties in the city and donated to every charity that would take his photo. People called him pure, old-school, and honorable.

But Elena had dug into him once, some years ago. She found nothing concrete. Just whispers, shell companies, offshore accounts, and quiet favors traded in back rooms.

There's nothing she could prove. Nothing she’d published.

He was old enough to be her father. And he wanted her as a wife. The thought alone made her chest tighten.

She rubbed her temple, and took in a deep breath.

“He’s… he’s not a bad man, Maya. But he’s not… I don’t love him. I don’t even like him that way.”

“You don’t have to sleep with him,” Maya said quickly.

“Tell him it’s a strategic alliance. It's all about protection. He’ll eat that up, he loves playing the knight. And once you’re legally tied to him, Soren might hesitate. Billionaires don’t like messy public divorces or scandals involving married women. It complicates their leverage.”

Elena's throat tightened. “What if it backfires? What if Godfrey wants more than a ring on my finger? What if he finds out about the recording and uses it himself?”

“Then you’re trading one cage for another,” Maya admitted. “But at least this cage has a key. Soren’s doesn’t.”

Elena pressed her lips together and began to ponder on it. The more she thought about it, the more heartbroken she became.

“Elena, are you there?” Maya asked softly.

“Yeah.” Elara’s voice sounded distant even to her own ears. “Sure. I’m here.”

“So what do you say?”

She closed her eyes slowly, and at the same time, images of Soren began to flash into her mind. His slow, dangerous smile. The cellphone glinting in his hand. And the way her thighs had trembled when he’d ordered them apart.

Then Mr Godfrey. With kind eyes, steady hands, a life of safety and suffocation.

“I’ll think about it,” she said finally. “I… I have to.”

“Take your time,” Maya said. “But not too much. Text me when you decide. Or if anything else happens. I’m here, okay? All night.”

Elena nodded and they said goodbye and hung up the call. For a long time, she sat there and continued to stare at the black screen.

Should she marry a man she didn’t want just to protect herself from a man who wanted to break her?

Or keep playing Soren’s game night after night, until there is nothing left of her to record?

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the phone again.

She opened a new message to Godfrey's private number, and typed him a message immediately.

"Mr. Godfrey, I’ve reconsidered your proposal. I’d like us to meet as soon as possible.”