Escape attempt

ISABELLA'S POINT OF VIEW

I paced around the room, my bare feet brushing against the cold floor. Sleep wouldn’t come to me, not tonight, not after everything. My chest felt heavy, like I was breathing in chains instead of air. I pressed my palms against my face, whispering to myself.

“I can’t keep living like this. I can’t. I’ll lose myself.”

I turned to the door. The clock ticked past midnight. My suitcase was already tucked behind the bed, half-filled with clothes, documents, whatever scraps of freedom I could grab. My heart was beating fast as I reached for it, ready to finally risk everything.

Then I froze.

At first, it was faint, just a low sound through the silence. But then it grew louder, clearer. Soft sighs. Gasps. Moans.

I blinked, tilting my head toward the adjoining wall. It was coming from Felix’s room.

“No…” I whispered under my breath, but my ears didn’t betray me.

The sounds grew sharper, heavier. A woman’s muffled whimper followed by Felix’s unmistakable voice, deep and commanding.

“Vanessa… don’t cum yet. Don’t… wait for me.”

My stomach churned. My fingers trembled as I backed away from the door, pressing my hand against my chest. Anger rose in me like a flame I couldn’t put out. He had me locked here, stripped me of every choice, and he was in the next room—doing that.

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. My head screamed at me to run, to storm in there, to throw open his door and destroy everything in sight. But instead, I stood frozen, shaking from head to toe.

The bed in his room creaked, a loud thump echoing through the wall, followed by a scream of pleasure.

“Felix…” Vanessa moaned.

I covered my ears, but it didn’t silence them. The voices seemed to crawl under my skin, into my bones.

“I can’t take this,” I muttered, pacing again. “I can’t. I’ll go mad.”

I rushed to the window and yanked the curtains apart. Outside, the night stretched endlessly, the rain soaking the streets. Guards patrolled the grounds with flashlights, moving like shadows. I wanted to scream at them to move aside, to let me go, to stop being his puppets.

I slammed the window shut, my breathing ragged. “He keeps me here like a prisoner while he… while he…” I couldn’t even finish the sentence.

I threw myself on the bed, clenching the sheets in my fists.

“He’ll never love me,” I whispered into the darkness. “Not really. I’m just his possession, his trophy, his puppet.”

Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I sat back up, rubbing them angrily.

The moans kept coming, louder, shameless. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something.

Finally, I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. “This has to end. No matter what he threatens, no matter what he does, I have to get out. I can’t stay here. Not another night.”

I stood up again, fists balled, my decision burning through me like fire.

I felt like my chest had been cut open. Heat and cold warred in my limbs. I forced myself to the door, fingers fumbling at the handle. My suitcase lay half open on the floor. Clothes, a few papers, a photograph that used to mean something. I could taste the metal tang of adrenaline in my mouth.

The handle would not turn.

I pulled harder. The knob stayed stubborn under my grip. Panic clawed up my throat. I knocked on the wood. Loud. Then louder, until my knuckles stung.

“Open this door,” I yelled. “Open the door now.”

A footstep outside, then a voice I knew too well. “Isabella, calm down. You will wake the entire house.”

I swallowed. “Let me out,” I said. “Please. I’m leaving.”

The lock clicked. The door swung inward, but not enough for me to slip through. Two men filled the gap. Big, stoic faces. The taller one put his hand on my shoulder like he could still keep me in place with a single touch.

“Miss Rossi, sir asked us to make sure you rest,” he said in that flat tone they used when they wanted to be obedient and cruel at the same time.

“Rest?” I laughed, a short, ugly sound. “You call this rest? You call him locking me in like a prize and sleeping with his whore a rest?”

The taller guard’s jaw tightened. “Please, Miss. Sir will be upset if you make a scene.”

“Make a scene?” I pushed at him. He did not budge. “I am making a scene, yes. I am done being quiet. I am done.”

The other guard, the shorter one, reached to grab my arm. I jerked back. “No. Don’t touch me.”

His hand closed on my wrist anyway. Pain flared like a white-hot brand. I twisted, gnashed my teeth, and pulled away. He cursed and went to pull me back. I shoved him, hard. He bobbed and steadied himself like a bull. He came in again.

“Stop it,” the taller one said, voice steady, like he was reciting a line. “You will hurt yourself. You need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” I screamed. “Calm down while he is with her in the next room? Calm down while he threatens to kill my family? Calm down while he keeps me like—”

My hands clawed at the door. The shorter guard reached over my shoulder and yanked the suitcase away. “That is enough,” he said. “Come with me.”

I dug my heels into the floor. My stomach hit the edge of the dresser and I almost fell. I grabbed at the taller man’s coat, eyes burning. “You don’t get it. You think you can decide for me? You think you can keep me like a dog on a leash?”

The taller man looked at me with something that was not exactly pity. It was closer to boredom. “Miss, please. This is for your own good.”

“For my own good?” I spat. “What does he do for my good? He sleeps with other women. He hits me. He lies. He cages me.”

The shorter guard’s hand tightened at my elbow. I felt the skin give under his grip. My breath came in sharp, ragged pulls. “You will come with us to Sir’s study,” he said. “He wants to talk.”

“Tell him to rot,” I whispered. My voice broke. “Tell him I will never, ever—”

They dragged me down the hall. The floor vibrated with the echo of my footsteps, heavy and ashamed. I tried to twist away, to kick, to scratch, anything. The taller man kept his hand over my mouth for a moment, and I tasted his sweat. I bit down on his fingers. He hissed but did not loosen his hold.

At the study door Felix stood waiting. He looked like a man who had swallowed a storm and decided to keep the weather for himself. His shirt was rumpled. He smelled like cologne and something sweet that made my stomach turn.