5 YEARS

The Price of Betrayal

Gabriella immediately cut me off.

"You have nothing to say, you traitor," she sneered, stepping in front of me with that same smug smirk. "You left him, and now you want to sugarcoat it? What, hoping for sympathy?" She scoffed, crossing her arms. "Pathetic."

Samuel didn’t say a word. He just watched me, his expression unreadable.

I clenched my fists. My heart was racing, my throat burning with all the words I wanted to scream. But what was the point? They had already decided I was the villain in this story.

So I turned and walked away.

I kept walking until I was out of the office, out of their sight, out of the suffocating walls of that place.

But that night, I learned something far worse—Samuel wasn’t done with me yet.

I was on my way home when it happened.

A strong arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against a hard chest.

I gasped, my body tensing as I struggled against the grip. “What the hell—”

“Somebody’s feisty,” a familiar voice murmured against my ear.

Samuel.

I turned sharply, trying to push him away, but his grip tightened, his fingers digging into my waist. His dark eyes burned with something dangerous, something unforgiving.

"You don’t get to walk away," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Not after what you did."

I glared at him, shoving at his chest. "Let me go, Samuel!"

He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Why? Only rich men can touch you now, right?" He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. "Guess what, Isabel? I’m rich now. I own this company. I own you."

My stomach twisted with anger. “You’re disgusting. You can’t treat me like a—”

"A harlot?" His voice was taunting, cruel. "Oh, but you are one, aren’t you?"

I slapped him. Hard.

His jaw clenched, his face turning to the side for a second, but when he looked back at me, he was smiling.

"You’ve got fire. I like that," he murmured. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small card, pressing it into my hand.

I frowned, looking down at the crisp black lettering.

Room 1005. Christine Hotel.

My breath caught in my throat.

"Tonight. 10 PM," he said casually, like he was asking me to dinner. Then, he tossed a bag at my feet.

I hesitated before picking it up. My heart stopped when I saw what was inside—expensive dresses, designer heels, jewelry worth more than my entire life.

Samuel leaned in close, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Only the best for you, Isabel. I know how much you love expensive things.”

Tears burned in my eyes. His words cut deeper than any insult.

I looked up at him, pleading. “Why are you doing this?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Because I can.”

And then he walked away.

I shouldn’t have gone.

I should have run, hidden, done anything but walk into that hotel.

But I had no choice.

Samuel was ruthless. He had power, influence. If I didn’t go, he wouldn’t just come after me—he’d come after my family. My mother, weak and old, wouldn't survive it.

So at exactly 10 PM, I found myself standing in front of Room 1005.

I swallowed hard and knocked.

The door swung open almost immediately.

Samuel stood there, wearing nothing but a silk robe, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The dim golden light of the room cast shadows over his sharp, beautiful face.

“Welcome,” he said smoothly, stepping aside. "Come in."

I hesitated, my body stiff.

He sighed, taking a slow sip of his drink. "What’s wrong? This is expensive, Isabel. You love expensive things, don’t you?"

I clenched my jaw and stepped inside.

The suite was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, a king-sized bed draped in silk sheets, and the scent of luxury hanging heavy in the air.

He shut the door behind me, locking it with a soft click.

I turned to face him, my hands clenched at my sides. "Samuel, please. You don’t have to do this."

He smirked. "Oh, but I do."

Before I could react, he grabbed my waist and pushed me onto the bed.

I gasped, my heart pounding.

His body hovered over mine, his eyes dark with something unreadable. “Five years,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down my arm. "Five years of misery. Five years of remembering the way you threw money at me like I was worthless."

I shook my head, my voice breaking. "I didn’t—"

"Shhh." His finger pressed against my lips. "Now it’s my turn, Isabel. You wanted wealth? You wanted power? Then prove it. Earn it."

Tears spilled from my eyes.

I had no choice.

If I refused, he would destroy everything I had left.

So I closed my eyes and let him take what he wanted.

When it was over, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body numb, my soul shattered.

Samuel got up, grabbing his robe and tying it lazily around his waist.

"You can leave now," he said coldly.

I turned to look at him, my vision blurred with tears.

He smirked, pulling out a wad of cash and tossing it at me. The crisp bills landed on the bed, surrounding me like a sick joke.

"You can have that, Miss Harlot. Consider it payment."

Something inside me broke.

I sat up, gripping the sheets, my entire body shaking. "Samuel, please…"

His phone rang. He didn’t even glance at me as he picked it up.

"Hey, baby," he said smoothly.

Gabriella.

My breath hitched. My nails dug into my palms.

My twin sister’s voice rang out through the speaker. “Did you handle her?”

Samuel chuckled. “Of course. She’s nothing.”

My heart stopped.

He turned to look at me then, his smirk widening.

"Go now, Isabel. You’ve already overstayed your welcome."

Tears streamed down my face. My chest ached so badly I thought I might die.

I grabbed my clothes, my dignity long gone, and stumbled toward the door.

As I stepped out, I heard Gabriella’s voice one last time.

"I love you, Samuel."

And then the door slammed shut behind me.