Lahat ng Kabanata ng BOUGHT BY THE RUTHLESS CEO : Kabanata 11 - Kabanata 20

~CLARA'S POV~ The obsidian office of Volkov Global felt less like an executive suite and more like a high-tech panopticon. From the forty-fifth floor, the city below was reduced to a grid of blinking, insignificant lights. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, my hands clasped neatly behind my back, wearing the perfect posture of a dutiful administrative assistant. A role I had learned quickly, even if every part of me rebelled against it. "I have an emergency on the Tokyo floor," Ares said. His voice was like low-grade thunder—tight, cold, and entirely devoid of warmth. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored charcoal suit, not even bothering to look at me as he spoke. "Do not touch the desk. Do not answer the personal line. If the board calls from Zurich, tell them I am unavailable until midnight." "Understood, Mr. Volkov," I replied, keeping my voice smoothly professional. Ares paused at the heavy double doors. His piercing gaze swept over me, cataloging my rigid spine as if

~CLARA'S POV~ "Where are they taking him?" The question came out before I could stop it. For years, I had watched my father lose everything piece by piece—the company, his reputation, his freedom. But hearing that he could disappear into a place even I couldn't reach broke through the final layer of control I had built around myself. I didn't care about the rules anymore. I didn't care about the rigid posture or the professional facade. I turned on Ares, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Ares didn't look up immediately. He calmly closed his leather-bound portfolio, the scratch of his fountain pen signing off on the meeting minutes the only sound in the room. When he finally lifted his dark eyes to meet mine, there was no surprise in them. Only a cold, calculating assessment. "You speak Russian," he stated flatly. It wasn't a question. Of course he noticed. Ares Volkov noticed everything. The smallest hesitation. The slightest change in expression. Every w

CLARA'S POV The heavy iron gates of the Sterling estate didn't swing open with their usual grand, motorized hum. They groaned. Ares had given me exactly two hours of unsupervised leave to collect the rest of my personal effects before the gala. He knew exactly where I was going. He probably knew every room I would enter and every item I would touch before I even stepped through the gates. Ares Volkov didn't grant freedom. He granted controlled distance. I hadn't asked for permission to come here, but as my taxi pulled down the long, overgrown driveway, the emptiness of the place hit me like a physical blow. Six months ago, this estate was alive with the sound of laughter, high-society garden parties, and the constant rush of staff preparing for my father’s next global shipping venture. Now, it was a ghost town. The formal gardens were choking on weeds, and the grand limestone fountain in the courtyard was bone-dry, its marble basins stained with grey dust. I unlocked the massiv

~CLARA'S POV~ Twenty-four hours later, sleep never came. By the time the stylists finished with my hair and makeup, dawn had long since surrendered to evening. Every minute had carried me closer to the gala, closer to the lies I had promised myself I would unravel. The silk of the midnight-blue gown felt like liquid ice against my skin. It was a masterpiece of design—completely backless, dropping in a daring, cowl-neck drape to the small of my spine. But its true purpose wasn't elegance; it was concealment. I stood before the vanity mirror in the luxury dressing room, my fingers trembling as I adjusted the five-tier diamond choker around my neck. The brilliant gems caught the light, sparkling with a deceptive opulence. Beneath them, hidden by the thick velvet lining of the necklace, sat a rigid band of brushed silver. Ares’s literal collar. He hadn't forced it on me with physical violence. He had simply left it on my vanity with a note stating that the biometric lock was sync

CLARA'S POV Before I could even attempt to move, a force slammed into me. Ares threw his entire weight against my body, driving me flat against the cold marble floor beneath the shadow of the concrete VIP balcony. He shielded me completely, his massive frame acting as a bulletproof vest. For one impossible second, I couldn't breathe. He could have pushed me aside. He could have saved himself. Instead, he had chosen to become my shield. To protect the Contract ofcourse. The scent of his cedarwood cologne was masked instantly by the sharp, metallic tang of gunpowder. Above us, the VIP balcony sparked. Another flash of muzzle fire illuminated the blackness for a fraction of a second. In that fleeting moment of light, I saw Ares move with a terrifying speed. His hand reached into his tailored tuxedo jacket, pulling a concealed, matte-black firearm. He didn't hesitate. He leveled the barrel into the dark and fired three precise shots toward the upper deck. A loud thud echoed from