LOGINWith trembling hands, Alina finally answered. She knew Daniel wasn't bluffing. But she didn't speak. Just stayed silent, waiting.
"Alina." Daniel's voice sounded—not a pleading or worried tone. But cold. Controlled. Restrained anger. "Come home. Now." Not a request. An order. "No," Alina said, her voice trembling but firm. A momentary silence. Alina could hear Daniel's breath on the other end—controlled breath but with an edge to it. "What do you mean 'no'?" Daniel's voice dropped an octave—a dangerous tone Alina recognized well. The tone he used when talking to business rivals who opposed him. "You're my wife. Your place is at home. With Junior. Not hiding in a friend's apartment like a child throwing a tantrum." Tantrum? "I'm not a child," Alina said, her breathing quickening. "And I'm not throwing a tantrum. I left because I can't stand being treated like trash in your house anymore!" "My house?" Daniel's voice hardened. "This is OUR house, Alina. You're Mrs. Blackwood. You have responsibilities—" "Responsibilities?" Alina almost laughed—a sound without humor, bitter. "My responsibility as what? A paid caregiver? Or your wife who you haven't even cared about for five years?" "Don't be dramatic—" "I'M NOT BEING DRAMATIC!" Alina was screaming now, tears flowing. "You let your mother rip Junior from my arms! You let Clarissa walk back into your life like I never existed! And now you're telling me I'm being dramatic?" Silence on the other end. Alina could hear Junior's faint voice in the background—still crying, a small sound that broke hearts. "Junior needs you," Daniel finally said, his voice slightly lower but still firm. "He's been crying since you left. He won't sleep. He won't eat. He's sitting in front of your bedroom door with that teddy bear—the gift from you—waiting." Alina covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a sob. The image of Junior sitting on the floor, waiting, made her chest tight. "He's your son, Daniel," Alina whispered with a broken voice. "You're his father. You comfort him." "He doesn't want me!" For the first time, there was a crack in Daniel's voice—frustration, maybe even desperation? But it quickly closed again. "He only wants you. He's called your name over and over. So you have to come home. Now." "No." "Alina—" "I. Am. Not. Coming. Home." Alina spelled out each word firmly despite her tears flowing freely. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow. I'm done, Daniel." A long silence. When Daniel spoke again, his voice had changed—colder, more dangerous. "Do you know the consequences of this decision?" Alina froze. There was something in Daniel's tone—a barely concealed threat. "Your family," Daniel continued in a voice like ice. "Your father. The $8.2 million debt that comes due if our marriage ends before 10 years. Do you remember the contract you signed, Alina?" Alina's chest tightened. She knew. Oh, she knew very well. Five years ago, when she signed that marriage certificate, there was a second document—a loan agreement between Blackwood Corp and the Hayes Family. $5 million to pay off debt collectors who were already surrounding their house. Plus 8% interest per year. Total now: $8.2 million. The contract stated: the debt would be completely forgiven after 10 years of marriage. But if the marriage ended before that—whether divorce or separation—the full amount plus interest was immediately due. Payable in 30 days. The Hayes family didn't have $8.2 million. They didn't even have $82 thousand. Her father was completely bankrupt. Their last house was collateral for that loan. If Alina divorced now, her family would lose everything. "You wouldn't..." Alina whispered with a trembling voice. "I wouldn't what?" Daniel cut in coldly. "Enforce a contract you yourself signed? A contract that's legal and binding? Why not?" "Daniel, please—" "Come home, Alina." Daniel's voice was final. "Tomorrow morning. Before 8 o'clock. If not, I'll call my lawyer and start the process to collect the debt. Your father will lose his house. Your mother will have nowhere to live. Your sister will have to drop out of university." "You can't—" "I can. And I will." There was no warmth in Daniel's voice. Just a cold businessman enforcing a contract. "The choice is in your hands, Alina. Come home and continue your responsibilities as Mrs. Blackwood. Or stay at your friend's apartment and watch your family fall apart." Alina couldn't breathe. Her chest was tight. The room was spinning. "You're a bastard," Alina whispered with a broken voice. "Maybe," Daniel answered without emotion. "But I'm a bastard who keeps his word. A contract is a contract. You signed. Now you have to honor it." "This isn't about the contract! This is about Junior! About me as a human being with feelings—" "Eight o'clock in the morning, Alina." Daniel cut in coldly. "Or my lawyer will show up at your father's house at 9 with an eviction notice. Choose." Click. Daniel hung up. Alina stared at the dark phone screen with trembling hands. Her entire body was shaking—between anger, fear, and something darker. Hatred. For the first time in five years of marriage, Alina felt genuine hatred for Daniel Blackwood. The bedroom door opened. Emma entered with a worried face. "Alina? I heard you screaming. What—" "He threatened my family," Alina cut in with an empty voice. "An $8.2 million debt. Due if I don't come home tomorrow morning." Emma froze. "What?" "The marriage contract," Alina laughed bitterly—a sound without humor. "I didn't just marry Daniel to be Junior's mother. My family is collateral. I am collateral." "Oh my God..." Emma sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for Alina's cold hand. "Alina, this is modern slavery. You can't—" "I don't have a choice!" Alina nearly screamed, tears flowing freely. "If I don't go back, my father loses his house. My mother has nowhere to live. My sister drops out. They'll be destroyed, Emma. Because of me." "This isn't your fault—" "But I'm the one who signed that contract!" Alina pulled her hand away, standing on trembling legs. "Five years ago I thought this was just a temporary arrangement. I thought maybe over time, Daniel would see me. Would care. But I was wrong. I'm just an asset. Property. Same as the furniture in that mansion." Emma stood, hugging Alina tightly. "Listen to me. We'll find a way. We'll go to a lawyer tomorrow. There are ways to fight coercive contracts—" "There's no time," Alina whispered. "The deadline is 8 o'clock in the morning. That's... that's six hours from now." Emma released the hug, looking at Alina with teary but determined eyes. "So what do you want to do? Go back? Return to that mansion and let them treat you like a prisoner?" Alina looked at the bedroom window—the sky was still dark, but there was a hint of dawn on the horizon. In a few hours, the sun would rise. A new day would begin. But for Alina, that day would be the same as the 1,825 days before it. Trapped. Powerless. Insignificant. "I don't have a choice," Alina whispered desperately. "You always have a choice—" "NO!" Alina turned, looking at Emma with red eyes. "I don't have a choice, Emma! Choice is a privilege for people who aren't bound by contracts. For people whose families aren't held hostage. Me? I've been trapped since five years ago. I was just too stupid to realize it." Emma fell silent, not knowing what to say. Alina sat back on the edge of the bed, staring at her trembling hands. "I have to go home. Before 8 o'clock. Before Daniel actually destroys my family." "Alina..." "But not because I want to," Alina continued in a hard voice, eyes teary but with something there—resolve. "Not because I forgive him. Or Margaret. Or Clarissa. I'm going home because I have no other choice. But I promise myself—someday, I'll be free. However I have to do it, I'll get out of this marriage. And when that day comes, Daniel Blackwood will regret he ever treated me like this." Emma looked at her friend—the woman who for five years had seemed broken and submissive, now had fire in her eyes. Small, but there. "Okay," Emma finally said, squeezing Alina's hand. "If you have to go home, you go home. But not alone. I'll take you. And I'll make sure Daniel knows—I'm watching. If he or his family dares touch you, I'll raise hell." Alina smiled weakly—grateful for the only person who genuinely cared about her. "Thank you," she whispered. Emma hugged her tightly. "We'll find a way, Alina. We'll find a lawyer. We'll find a loophole in that contract. But for now, survive. Just survive." Alina nodded, though deep down she wasn't sure how long she could survive in that mansion that felt like a luxurious prison. At the Blackwood Mansion, 3:00 AM Daniel closed his phone hard, throwing it onto the study sofa in frustration. He stood in front of the large window, staring at the dark garden below with clenched fists. Why was Alina so stubborn? Why didn't she understand that she had to come home? Junior needed her. The mansion needed her. Everything would be chaos without her. Daniel had never realized how much Alina handled until she wasn't there. Who usually made sure Junior ate on time? Who arranged Junior's schedule, therapy sessions, playdates? Who noticed when Junior had a fever even before the thermometer showed a number? Alina. And now she wasn't there, everything was falling apart. Something tightened in Daniel's chest. Guilt? No. He had no reason to feel guilty. He did the right thing. Alina had a contract. She had to honor it. Simple. But why did his chest feel so tight?Emma's hands trembled slightly as she dialed a number she hadn't called in weeks. The phone rang three times before Richard Hayes answered."Emma? It's late. Is everything alright?"Richard's voice carried the gentle concern of a father who had learned to expect bad news about his daughter but never stopped hoping for good."Uncle, there's something I need to talk to you about. About Alina."A pause. Then Richard's voice, suddenly alert. "What is it? Is Alina alright? We haven't heard from her in over a month. Every time I call, they say she's unavailable. Resting. Busy. Always an excuse."Emma closed her eyes. "That's why I'm calling. Uncle, I have to be honest with you. Alina is not alright."The silence on the other end was heavy."Tell me everything," Richard said quietly.Emma did. She told him everything she'd heard from Mrs. Helen through their exchanged messages. Junior's accident. The amnesia that made him forget Alina. The systematic isolation. The basement incident. Margare
A knock at the door.Alina closed the journal quickly. Slipped it into the desk drawer."Come in."A young maid entered. Not Mrs. Helen, but a different young maid than before."Mrs. Blackwood. Dinner is ready. Mrs. Margaret requests you join the family in the main dining room."Alina stared out the window, only then realizing that it was already dark outside. She stood up.After a few minutes of getting ready, Alina walked over to the mirror.Checked her appearance.Hair neat. Dress appropriate. Makeup covering the exhaustion.The perfect mask.She looked like Mrs. Blackwood.Presentable. Dignified. Emotionless."I'm ready.""This way, Ma'am."Alina followed the maid into the corridor.Toward the dining room where her family waited.The family that didn't want her.Behind her, the bedroom door closed.Without Aliana realizing it, thirty seconds later, the door opened again.Mr. Harris entered quietly. One of the security guards behind him carrying a small case.They moved efficiently
Morning light filtered through Margaret's sitting room windows as Mr. Harris delivered his report."Nothing unusual, Ma'am." He stood at attention, hands clasped behind his back. "Mrs. Alina Blackwood remains in her room most of the day. The signal jammer is functioning perfectly—no outgoing calls, no messages. Staff interactions are minimal and monitored."Margaret sat in her chair, fingers steepled, eyes calculating."Something feels off.""Sorry, Ma'am?""Something feels wrong." She stood, moved to the window. "People don't surrender this completely without planning something. I want cameras installed in her room."Mr. Harris's expression flickered. "Ma'am, that would require Mr. Daniel's authorization. Privacy laws—""I don't care about privacy laws." Margaret turned to face him. "This is my son’s house. My family. And I will protect it by any means necessary.""Mr. Daniel specifically instructed that Mrs. Alina be treated with appropriate dignity—""Daniel is blind to threats und
Two weeks passed.Alina became exactly what they wanted.Compliant. Silent. Present but invisible.She attended dinners when required, sitting at the far end of the table. Answered when spoken to with appropriate brevity. Smiled at the right moments during conversations she didn't care about.The perfect wife-shaped object.Daniel noticed the change. She could see it in the way he watched her sometimes. Uncertain. Like he'd broken something and wasn't sure how.But he never asked.Never pushed.Because asking would require facing what he'd done.And Daniel Blackwood was very good at not facing things."You seem better," he said one evening as they prepared for bed. "More settled."Alina didn't respond. Just continued brushing her hair with mechanical precision."Mother says you've been pleasant lately. Cooperative."Fifty strokes. The way her mother had taught her when she was young."Alina?""Yes, Daniel. I heard you.""I'm glad you're adjusting. I know it's been difficult but—""Is
Alina made it to the bathroom before the scream tore out of her.Raw. Animal. The sound of something dying.She collapsed against the tile floor, hands pressed over her mouth, trying to contain the violence of her grief.No one important.Five years of midnight fevers and bad dreams. Five years of first words and first steps. Five years of "Mama, look!" and "Mama, stay!" and "Mama, I love you."Reduced to "no one important."The sobs came in waves. Brutal. Uncontrollable.Her body shook with them until she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except feel the agony of being erased.She'd known it was coming. Had watched it happen piece by piece. Junior's confusion. His discomfort. His gradual acceptance of Clarissa as the only mother he'd ever known.But hearing it—hearing him ask about her like she was a stranger, hearing Clarissa dismiss her so casually—It was different than knowing.It was final.Alina pressed her forehead to the cold tile and let herself shatter
Alina didn't sleep that night.She lay on the bed fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, replaying Daniel's words.'You're my wife. Forever. Get used to it.'Not love. Not choice. Not even duty.Just ownership.She was a Blackwood possession now. Like the mansion. Like the company. Like everything else Daniel refused to let go of even when it no longer served him.At some point after midnight, the door opened quietly.Daniel entered. Saw her awake."You should be sleeping," he said."Hard to sleep when you're a prisoner.""You're not a prisoner. You're my wife.""What's the difference?"Daniel loosened his tie, started undressing for bed. "A prisoner has no rights. No protection. You have both.""Protection from what? Your mother who locks me in basements? Clarissa who's stolen my son? You who won't let me leave?""Protection from what would happen if you left." Daniel sat on the edge of the bed. "Do you really think Mother would let you walk away quietly? That she wouldn't destroy yo







