The billionaire possession

The Gilded Cage

The black SUV climbed the winding road of the estate in total silence. Adrian Volkov did not look at Elara Vance again. He tapped at his tablet with a rhythmic precision that made Elara Vance want to scream. The gates of the Volkov manor were made of black iron. They swung open without a sound. The driveway was a long stretch of crushed white stone that crunched under the tires like bone.

The car stopped. A guard opened the door before the engine had even died. Adrian Volkov stepped out first. He did not offer Elara Vance a hand. He stood on the gravel and adjusted his cuffs.

"Get out," Adrian Volkov said.

Elara Vance stayed in the seat. She gripped the leather until her knuckles turned white. She looked at the house. It was a fortress of glass and gray stone. It looked down on the city like a predator. There were no flowers. There was no color.

"I said get out," Adrian Volkov repeated.

His voice was lower this time. It held a vibration of a warning. Elara Vance took a breath. She stepped out of the car. The wind caught her torn veil. It whipped against her face. She felt the weight of the silk wedding dress. It was a costume for a play that had ended in a m******e.

Adrian Volkov turned and walked toward the massive front doors. Elara Vance followed. She did not have a choice. The guards stood behind her like a wall of shadow. The entrance hall was cold. The floors were polished marble. A woman stood at the base of the grand staircase.

The woman wore a dress the color of a fresh bruise. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She looked at Elara Vance with eyes that were sharper than a surgeon’s blade.

"You brought it home," the woman said.

"It has a name, Natalia," Adrian Volkov said.

Adrian Volkov did not stop walking. He handed his suit jacket to a silent butler. He kept moving toward a set of double oak doors at the end of the hall.

"Elara Vance," Natalia Volkov said.

Natalia Volkov walked around Elara Vance in a slow circle. She looked at the blood on the skirt. She looked at the tear in the lace. She wrinkled her nose as if she smelled something rotting.

"She is a mess, Adrian," Natalia Volkov called out. "She looks like a victim. It is bad for the brand."

"Fix her then," Adrian Volkov said.

He disappeared into his study. The door shut with a heavy thud. The sound echoed in the high ceiling. Elara Vance felt the air leave her lungs. She was alone with a woman who looked like she wanted to dissect her.

"Do not look at me like that," Natalia Volkov snapped. "You are lucky my brother has a taste for broken things. Anyone else would have left you in that chapel to rot."

"I did not ask to be here," Elara Vance said.

"No one asks to be here," Natalia Volkov said. "But you are here. You are a Volkov asset now. That means you follow the rules. Rule number one is that you do not speak unless a Volkov asks you a question."

Natalia Volkov turned to the butler.

"Take her to the East Wing," Natalia Volkov commanded. "Burn that dress. Scrub the blood off her. If she resists use the restraints."

The butler bowed. He gestured for Elara Vance to follow. Elara Vance looked at the study door. She thought about running for the entrance. She saw the guards at the door. They were touching their holsters.

Elara Vance followed the butler. They walked through endless hallways. Every wall was lined with art that looked expensive and soulless. The East Wing was isolated. The butler opened a door to a room that was larger than Elara Vance’s entire apartment.

The bed was a sea of white linen. The windows were floor to ceiling. They did not open.

"The bath is ready," the butler said.

He left the room. Two maids appeared from a side door. They did not speak. They moved toward Elara Vance with scissors and sponges.

"Don’t touch me," Elara Vance said.

The maids did not stop. One of them reached for the zipper of the wedding dress. Elara Vance pushed her hand away. The maid looked at the other maid. They moved together. They were stronger than they looked.

They stripped the silk from Elara Vance’s body. They tossed the dress into a bin like it was trash. They pushed Elara Vance into a tub of hot water. The water turned pink as the blood from the chapel washed away. They scrubbed her skin until it was raw. They brushed her hair until her scalp burned.

When they were finished they put her in a silk robe. It was the color of cream. It felt like a second skin. They led her back to the bed.

"Eat," one of the maids said.

She pointed to a tray on the table. There was soup and bread. It smelled wonderful. Elara Vance felt her stomach twist. She had not eaten since the night before the wedding.

"I’m not hungry," Elara Vance said.

The maids left. The door locked from the outside. The click of the bolt sounded like a gavel.

Elara Vance walked to the window. The sun was setting over the city. She could see the lights of the downtown buildings. Her father was somewhere down there. Julian Rossi was somewhere down there. They were safe. They were free.

She pressed her forehead against the glass. It was cold. She felt a sob rise in her throat. She pushed it down. She would not cry. Adrian Volkov had told her it was a waste. She would not give him the satisfaction.

Hours passed. The room grew dark. Elara Vance sat on the edge of the bed. She watched the shadows stretch across the floor. She waited for the door to open. She expected Adrian Volkov to come in and claim what he had bought.

When the door finally opened it was not Adrian Volkov. It was Natalia Volkov. She held a black velvet box.

"Put these on," Natalia Volkov said.

She threw the box onto the bed. It popped open. Inside was a necklace of black diamonds. They looked like drops of frozen oil.

"Why?" Elara Vance asked.

"Adrian wants you at dinner," Natalia Volkov said. "He likes his possessions to glitter. It reminds him how much they cost."

Elara Vance looked at the diamonds. She did not move.

"Now, Elara," Natalia Volkov warned.

Elara Vance put the necklace on. The metal was cold against her throat. It felt like a leash.

Natalia Volkov led her back through the house. The dining room was massive. A long table of black marble sat in the center. Adrian Volkov sat at the head. He was reading a file. He did not look up when they entered.

"Sit," Adrian Volkov said.

He pointed to the chair on his right. Elara Vance sat down. Natalia Volkov sat across from her.

The meal was served in silence. The food was rich. Elara Vance could barely swallow. Every time her fork hit the plate the sound seemed to echo. Adrian Volkov ate with a mechanical efficiency. He did not drink wine. He drank water.

"The Rossi family filed a police report," Natalia Volkov said. "They are claiming kidnap."

Adrian Volkov did not look up from his steak.

"Let them," Adrian Volkov said. "The police commissioner owes me three favors. The report will disappear by morning."

"Julian is talking to the press," Natalia Volkov added. "He is playing the grieving groom."

Adrian Volkov stopped eating. He put his knife down. The sound made Elara Vance jump.

"Julian Rossi is a dead man walking," Adrian Volkov said. "He just doesn't know it yet. He left his bride in a war zone. The public will turn on him when the footage leaks."

"You have footage?" Elara Vance asked.

Adrian Volkov looked at her. His eyes were unreadable.

"I have everything, Elara," Adrian Volkov said. "I have the security tapes from every angle of that chapel. I have the audio of your father begging for his life. I have the thermal scans of Julian Rossi running through the back alley."

"You planned it," Elara Vance whispered.

"I facilitated a natural conclusion," Adrian Volkov said. "Your father was never going to pay. The Rossi family was never going to protect you. I simply chose the moment to intervene."

"You killed people," Elara Vance said.

"I removed obstacles," Adrian Volkov corrected.

He picked up his glass of water. He took a sip.

"Tomorrow you will go to the office with me," Adrian Volkov said. "We have a press conference. You will tell the world that you went with me willingly. You will tell them that you realized Julian was a coward and that I saved you."

"I will not lie for you," Elara Vance said.

Adrian Volkov leaned in. He was so close she could see the flecks of gold in his gray eyes.

"You will lie," Adrian Volkov said. "Because if you don't I will send the footage of your father to the Rossi family. They are very angry, Elara. They need someone to blame. If they find out your father set up the hit to clear his own debt they will peel the skin from his bones while he is still screaming."

Elara Vance felt the blood drain from her face.

"My father didn't do that," Elara Vance said.

"Look at the file," Adrian Volkov said.

He pushed the folder toward her. Elara Vance opened it. She saw bank transfers. She saw emails. She saw her father’s handwriting. He had told the gunmen when to enter. He had told them where the Rossi security would be standing.

He had traded her life for a clean slate.

"He sold me twice," Elara Vance whispered.

"He is a weak man," Adrian Volkov said. "Weak men do desperate things. But I am not a weak man. I keep what I buy. And I protect what is mine."

Adrian Volkov stood up. He looked down at her.

"You have ten minutes to finish your meal," Adrian Volkov said. "Then you will go to your room. You will sleep. Tomorrow you become a Volkov."

Adrian Volkov walked out of the room. Natalia Volkov stood up and smirked.

"Welcome to the family," Natalia Volkov said.

Elara Vance sat alone at the black marble table. She looked at the black diamonds around her neck. She looked at the evidence of her father’s betrayal. She picked up a knife. She didn't want to eat. She wanted to cut the world until it bled as much as she did.

She was in the heart of the beast. And the beast was the only thing keeping her alive.