CHAPTER TWO: THE RULES OF HIS PRISON

The black diamond ring lay on Isabella's bedside table.

She had not slept all night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Alexander Blackwood's cold voice.

"Your wedding dress will be black."

She hated him.

She hated his arrogance, his confidence, and the way he spoke as though he owned the entire world.

But most of all, she hated that he had found a way to control her.

Her father's medical bills were piling up. His company was gone, their house had been taken, and the hospital had threatened to stop his treatment if they couldn't make another payment.

Isabella had only one choice.

And she hated it.

---

"You're making a mistake, Isabella."

Her father struggled to speak as she sat beside his hospital bed.

She forced a smile.

"Everything will be fine, Daddy."

"That man is dangerous. You don't know what he's capable of."

"Then tell me! What happened between you two?"

Her father looked away.

"Some mistakes should remain buried."

Isabella's eyes filled with tears.

"You're asking me to marry a stranger without even telling me why he hates you?"

Her father squeezed her hand weakly.

"Promise me something."

"What?"

"Never fall in love with Alexander Blackwood."

Isabella stared at him.

She almost laughed.

"Don't worry, Daddy. That's one promise I can easily keep."

But neither of them knew how difficult that promise would become.

---

Forty-eight hours later.

A black Rolls-Royce stopped outside the hospital.

Isabella stood beside the entrance, holding a small suitcase.

She wore a simple black dress, her long dark hair falling over her shoulders.

She had made her decision.

Not because she wanted to marry Alexander.

But because she wanted her father to live.

The car door opened.

A man stepped out.

He was not Alexander but his personal assistant.

"Miss Williams?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Blackwood is expecting you."

Isabella looked at the car.

"Where is he?"

"At the mansion."

She frowned.

"He couldn't come himself?"

The assistant opened the back door.

"Mr. Blackwood doesn't like repeating himself."

Isabella sighed.

"Neither do I."

She entered the car.

---

Blackwood Mansion.

The mansion looked like something from a royal palace.

Tall iron gates opened as the Rolls-Royce approached. Beautiful gardens surrounded the enormous building, while fountains sparkled beneath the afternoon sunlight.

But Isabella wasn't impressed.

To her, it looked like a beautiful prison.

The car stopped.

A woman in her late fifties stood at the entrance.

"Welcome, Miss Williams. I'm Mrs. Eleanor, the housekeeper."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Blackwood is waiting for you in his study."

Isabella nodded.

As she followed the housekeeper through the enormous hallway, she noticed several expensive paintings hanging on the walls.

One particular portrait caught her attention.

It was a beautiful woman with long brown hair and a sad smile.

"Who is she?" Isabella asked.

Mrs. Eleanor stopped.

For a moment, her expression changed.

"Someone you shouldn't ask about."

Before Isabella could question her, a deep voice interrupted them.

"Mrs. Eleanor."

Both women turned.

Alexander stood at the top of the staircase.

He wore a black shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows and dark trousers.

His eyes settled on Isabella.

"You're late."

She checked her wristwatch.

"I'm actually five minutes early."

"I don't appreciate arguments."

"Then you should stop saying ridiculous things."

Mrs. Eleanor quickly lowered her eyes.

Alexander descended the staircase slowly.

"Leave us."

The housekeeper disappeared immediately.

Alexander stopped in front of Isabella.

His eyes travelled briefly over her dress before returning to her face.

"So, you've finally decided to accept my offer."

"I didn't come here because I wanted to."

"Your reasons don't interest me."

"Good. Because I wasn't planning to explain them."

A faint smile touched his lips.

"Still stubborn."

"Still arrogant."

He stepped aside.

"Come with me."

---

His study was enormous.

Dark wooden shelves covered the walls, expensive books filled the cabinets, and a large desk stood near the window.

Alexander walked behind it and opened a drawer.

He pulled out a document.

"Read this."

Isabella took it.

Her eyes widened as she scanned the pages.

It was a marriage agreement.

"What's this?"

"Our marriage contract."

She continued reading.

There were several rules.

She was expected to live in his mansion.

She was not allowed to interfere in his business.

She was not allowed to invite anyone into the mansion without his permission.

She was expected to attend public events as his wife.

And there was one final condition.

She must never ask questions about his past.

Isabella slowly lowered the document.

"Are you serious?"

"Completely."

"You expect me to live here like a prisoner?"

Alexander leaned against his desk.

"You're free to leave whenever you want."

"Really?"

"Of course. But if you walk out of those gates, the agreement ends, and your father's debts return."

Her expression hardened.

"You're a monster."

"Perhaps. But I'm an honest one."

She looked at him with disgust.

"One day, Alexander Blackwood, you'll regret treating me this way."

He moved closer.

"Is that a threat, Mrs. Blackwood?"

"Don't call me that."

"Get used to it."

He placed a pen in front of her.

"Sign."

Isabella stared at the document.

Her hands trembled slightly.

She thought about her father.

Then she picked up the pen and signed her name.

Alexander collected the document.

"Good."

"Don't look so pleased. This doesn't mean I've surrendered."

He ignored her comment and pressed a button on his desk.

A few seconds later, Mrs. Eleanor entered.

"Show Mrs. Blackwood to her room."

"Yes, sir."

Isabella turned sharply.

"Mrs. Blackwood?"

Alexander looked up from his desk.

"That's your name now."

---

Her bedroom was larger than the entire apartment she had once lived in.

It had a king-sized bed, a private balcony, a walk-in wardrobe, and an enormous bathroom.

Everything was beautiful.

Everything was expensive.

And nothing felt like home.

Mrs. Eleanor placed the suitcase beside the wardrobe.

"Your belongings will be arranged later, madam."

"Please, call me Isabella."

The older woman smiled faintly.

"Of course."

Isabella looked around the room.

"Mrs. Eleanor, can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Who was the woman in that painting downstairs?"

The housekeeper's smile disappeared.

She glanced toward the open doorway before lowering her voice.

"That was Miss Victoria."

"Who is she?"

Before Mrs. Eleanor could answer, a woman's laughter echoed from the hallway.

A pair of expensive heels clicked against the marble floor.

Then a beautiful blonde woman appeared at the doorway.

She wore a tight red dress, carried a designer handbag, and looked at Isabella as though she were something unpleasant.

"Well, well..."

Her eyes travelled over Isabella's simple black dress.

"So this is the girl Alexander married?"

Isabella stood.

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled.

"Someone who has known Alexander much longer than you have."

She stepped into the room and placed her handbag on the bed.

Then she leaned closer to Isabella.

"Let me give you some friendly advice, sweetheart."

Her smile disappeared.

"Whatever you think you have with Alexander, remember something."

She paused.

"You're not the first woman to wear his ring."

Isabella's stomach tightened.

"What do you mean?"

The woman glanced at the ring on Isabella's finger.

Then she smiled cruelly.

"Ask him about Victoria."

And with that, she walked out.

Isabella stood frozen.

Victoria.

The woman in the painting.

Who was she?

And why did the mention of her name seem to frighten everyone in the mansion?

Just then, Isabella's phone vibrated.

An unknown number.

She opened the message.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

You shouldn't have married Alexander Blackwood. Your father didn't tell you the truth. Ask him what happened five years ago.

Isabella read the message twice.

Her fingers began to tremble.

Before she could reply, another message arrived.

And whatever you do, never trust the man you're sleeping under the same roof with.

A cold shiver travelled down her spine.

Behind her, the bedroom door slowly opened.

"Enjoying your new home, Mrs. Blackwood?"

Isabella quickly turned.

Alexander stood in the doorway.

His eyes moved from her phone to her frightened face.

"Who sent you that message?"

Isabella swallowed.

"Nobody."

Alexander's expression darkened.

"Don't lie to me, Isabella."

He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Because there's one thing you need to understand about this marriage."

He walked closer.

"Secrets are dangerous in my house."

His eyes locked with hers.

"And I always find out the truth."

END OF CHAPTER TWO