A cage of silk

The wedding preparations consumed every waking moment of my life. Morning after morning I was 

dragged into fittings, luncheons, interviews, and endless consultations that felt more like interrogations. 

The planners whispered among themselves, their voices thin with fear. Everyone was terrified of 

disappointing Alexander Knight. Everyone except me, though my own terror was of a different kind. 

I wasn’t afraid of his anger; I was afraid of what would happen to me if I kept letting him pull me deeper 

into this glittering prison he called marriage.

The gown fittings were the worst. Silk, lace, pearls—every fragile detail sewn carefully by trembling hands. 

I stood on the pedestal, staring into the mirror at the stranger who looked back. She was elegant, flawless, 

her body shaped by satin and boning. She was not Isabella Reyes. She was a doll, a bride-for-display, 

a promise wrapped in silk to appease a billionaire’s pride.

Alexander made sure to attend each fitting. He would arrive without warning, 

the click of his shoes echoing through the studio like a drumbeat of doom. 

The stylists scrambled at his presence, bowing their heads, 

terrified that a misplaced pin could cost them their livelihoods. 

He never said much, but his eyes spoke volumes. 

They traveled over me like ownership, claiming every inch of my body, 

every line of the gown, every curl of my hair. 

The weight of that gaze sent shivers down my spine—

half from anger, half from something far more dangerous.

One evening, after hours of being pinned and tugged into the gown, 

he finally spoke. “Perfect,” he murmured. “Every stitch, every detail, 

as it should be.” He moved closer, his voice carrying over the room. 

“No one else will see her like this. Only me.”

The seamstress’s hands trembled so badly she nearly dropped her scissors. 

I felt the air catch in my lungs, the silk tightening around my ribs like chains. 

I wanted to scream at him that I wasn’t his property, 

that I wasn’t some prized jewel to be locked in a vault. 

But the truth burned on my tongue and refused to leave, 

because part of me feared what might happen if I actually said it.

When the staff left, leaving me alone with him, 

his hand brushed against my cheek. 

“Why do you look away, Isabella? You wear my claim beautifully.”

I jerked back, my voice sharp. “I’m not your claim, Alexander. 

This isn’t a game of possession. I’m not some trophy you can polish.”

His smile was slow, dangerous. “No? Then why are you here? 

Why are you wearing my ring, my dress, breathing in my air?”

“For my father. For his company. That’s all this is.” 

I forced the words out, even as my voice wavered. 

“Don’t confuse sacrifice with love.”

His expression hardened. He caught my wrist, 

pulling me closer until the satin skirts tangled between us. 

“What I feel for you isn’t love. It’s hunger. It’s inevitability. 

And you can fight it all you like, but it won’t change what you already are—mine.”

My knees weakened. My body betrayed me again, 

heat curling in my stomach, spreading like wildfire. 

I tore my wrist free and turned away, 

but my voice came out smaller than I intended. 

“Then you’ll starve. Because I won’t give you what you want.”

The silence that followed was worse than anything. 

His eyes burned into me, a vow I couldn’t yet hear. 

And I knew then that he would never stop until I surrendered everything.

---

The days blurred together. Every detail of the wedding became another 

weapon to remind me of the world I was being forced into. 

Flowers imported from Italy. Jewelry custom-forged in Paris. 

Each piece whispered: you are no longer yours. You are his. 

My father’s health declined, but his joy grew each time he saw me 

in white. He believed I was walking into a new life, 

not a prison cell made of diamonds. His tired smile was enough to keep 

me silent, even as my heart screamed. 

At night, I hid in my room with the lights low, 

whispering bedtime stories into the phone so Ethan would sleep. 

His laughter carried across the line, pure and untainted. 

It reminded me of why I endured. This was all for him. 

Every humiliating moment, every shackle I put on my wrists—

all to give him the life he deserved.

---

The rehearsal dinner came sooner than I wanted. 

Alexander chose a rooftop garden that glittered above the skyline. 

Every table dripped with flowers, every glass sparkled with champagne. 

The city’s elite paraded through the entrance, 

their eyes sharp with envy and judgment. 

Flashes from cameras blinded me as I took my place beside Alexander 

at the long table, his hand never leaving mine.

I smiled until my cheeks ached. I laughed when required, 

nodded when prompted. Inside, I was breaking apart. 

Every whisper felt like knives slicing into me. 

They didn’t see me as a bride. They saw me as a conquest, 

the woman who had captured the cold Alexander Knight. 

And they resented me for it.

One woman in particular leaned across the table. 

She was striking, with hair the color of honey and lips painted crimson. 

“So, Isabella,” she said, her voice dripping with sweetness. 

“What is it like to tame the untouchable Alexander Knight? 

You must be very… talented.”

Laughter rippled around the table. My chest constricted, 

but before I could reply, Alexander’s hand tightened around mine. 

His voice cut through the laughter like steel. 

“Careful. Insult my fiancée again, and you’ll find yourself 

frozen out of every contract Knight International controls.”

The laughter died. The woman paled, her smile faltering. 

The table fell into silence. Alexander’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, 

firm and steady. To the others, it was protection. 

To me, it was a reminder: I belonged to him. 

And protection always came with chains.

---

When the night ended and the last of the guests had gone, 

Alexander pulled me onto the empty dance floor. 

The music had stopped, but he moved as if it lingered, 

his hand pressing against the small of my back. 

The city sparkled beneath us, a thousand lights staring up like witnesses. 

I stiffened, unwilling, but his whisper left me breathless.

“Stop fighting me, Isabella. Every time you resist, 

I only want you more.”

I clenched my jaw. “You’ll never have what you want from me. 

Not now. Not ever.”

His smile was infuriating. “That’s where you’re wrong. 

You already are what I want.”

He spun me into his arms, holding me tight against him. 

For one dizzying heartbeat, the world fell away. 

All that remained was the storm in his eyes, 

the fire on his breath, the dangerous truth tightening around me. 

I hated it. I hated him. 

And I hated myself most of all for the part of me 

that didn’t want to break free.

---

That night, as I collapsed into bed, 

the weight of it all pressed down on me. 

My father’s fragile smile. 

Ethan’s innocent laughter. 

Alexander’s dangerous eyes. 

I was already trapped, 

woven into a cage of silk I could never escape. 

And the most terrifying truth was this: 

some part of me no longer wanted to.