Trapped

_End of flashback._ “Are you crying?” Liam’s voice was flat. A statement, not a question. His frown deepened when she didn’t answer. He stood abruptly. The bed dipped with the loss of his weight. “Forget it.” He ran a hand through his hair, muttering to himself, disgusted. “I don’t force myself on women. The fun’s ruined.” His shirt slid over his shoulders, buttons done with sharp, angry movements. He didn’t look at her. “This room,” he said, walking to the door, “this is where you’ll live. And you don’t leave without my permission.” A pause. “I won’t have you bringing shame to my family name.” _Bam!_ The door slammed. The sound echoed, final. Chloe stayed curled on the sheets, his cologne still in the air, his contempt still on her skin. She pressed her face into the pillow and let the sobs come. Ugly, broken things. A crying mess. That’s what he left behind. --- *VIP Lounge, The Black Opal Bar* Ice clinked. Jazz bled low from hidden speakers. “You want to know the best way to take revenge on a woman?” Liam swirled amber liquid in his glass, watching it catch the light. “Destroy everything she has. Make her your toy. Torture her daily. Feed her just enough fake hope to keep her breathing… while she suffers every minute.” Fred, his best friend since boarding school, stared at him over the rim of his own glass. “Jesus, Liam.” “Come to think of it,” Fred said, setting his drink down, “you didn’t love Rose. Not like that. I thought you were joking when you promised to marry her. So why the hell are you this serious now? You married Chloe Adams just for revenge?” Liam sipped. Slow. Measured. “I’ve always seen Rose as a little sister. But I gave Granny Dawkins my word. I’d marry her granddaughter. Take care of her.” His jaw tightened. “I keep my promises.” Fred studied him. “Yeah, you do. I admire that about you, man. But speaking from experience? A guy like you — controlled, mature — you’re exactly the type to fall for a sweet girl like Chloe Adams.” Liam scoffed. “Humph. Unless I’ve lost my mind.” He drained his glass. “By the way. Your brother’s coming back, right? I remember he liked Rose. A lot.” Fred’s expression shifted, unreadable. “Yeah. He’s landing tomorrow.” --- Chloe woke to the violent buzz of her phone on the nightstand. She stretched, body aching in places she didn’t want to name. The silk sheets felt like chains. She blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, at the massive bedroom that screamed money and suffocated her. Right. The Reigns mansion. Her cage. Last night replayed behind her eyes in brutal clarity. The church. The vows. _This is what you owe me and Rose._ The kiss. The car ride. The contract. His hands. His words. The door slamming. She grabbed the phone and swiped answer. “Hello, Daisy.” “Chloe!” Daisy’s voice was sharp, hurt. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you got married! I had to hear it from Trish at the salon. You and Rose were best friends. How could you do this to her? To me?” Chloe closed her eyes. “Daisy, it’s… it’s not what it looks like. It’s complicated.” “Complicated?” Daisy’s laugh was brittle. “She’s dead, Chloe. You married her fiancé a week after her funeral. What’s complicated about that?” “Please.” Chloe’s voice broke. “I’ll explain everything. I promise. I’ll make it up to you, okay?” A beat of silence. Then, softer: “Let’s meet. Our usual spot. Today.” Chloe glanced at the clock. Panic flickered. “I can’t. Not today. I… I have to pick someone up at the airport. I’m already late.” “You’re driving?” Daisy’s tone shifted to worry. “I heard Liam stripped you of everything. Your cards, your car, your—” “I’m fine,” Chloe cut in, too fast. “I’ll lend you mine,” Daisy said firmly. “You know where the spare key is.” Chloe frowned. “You’ll lend me your car? Since when do you have a car?” The line went dead. Chloe stared at the phone. “Hiss.” She tossed it onto the bed. “Since when does Daisy have a car? Never mind. She said I could use it.” She pushed the covers off and stood. Her legs were shaky. Her reflection in the floor-length mirror was a stranger — hair tangled, eyes swollen, wearing one of Liam’s shirts because he’d thrown out all her clothes. Why had he made the marriage public? It was supposed to be a contract. A secret punishment. _Party B is required to stay out of public eyes._ That was clause seven. Yet this morning, her face was on three gossip sites. _Billionaire Liam Reigns Weds in Secret Ceremony._ _Who is Chloe Adams, The Woman Who Replaced Rose Dawkins?_ Did he want to save face? Then why parade her? She remembered the church clearly. Empty. Just her, Liam, and the priest who couldn’t meet her eyes. Were there cameras? Had Liam planted them? No paparazzi would dare sneak into a Reigns event. Not unless they had a death wish. And no one published photos of Liam Reigns without his permission. So he did it. He leaked it himself. But why? The question gnawed at her. It didn’t make sense. Humiliating her publicly went against his own contract. Unless… public shame _was_ part of the punishment. She shook her head, hard. No. Not now. She had a pickup. Fred’s brother, probably. Liam had texted the flight details to her phone at 5 AM. No greeting. Just: _LAX. 10:30. Terminal 7. Don’t be late._ Maybe the answers would come later. Maybe they wouldn’t. But right now, she needed to move. Chloe walked out of the room — _her room_, he’d called it — and didn’t look back. The mansion was silent. Watching. She had a long day ahead. And a lifetime of debt to pay.