Chapter 2
1007 Words
Alex POV;
The next morning came with a storm—not from the sky, but from inside me.
The funky feeling from within, wouldn't let me be.
I stormed into the grand living room, the hem of my oversized sweater swaying behind me like a cape. My voice sliced through the silence like glass. “You think you can just give me away like I’m nothing?”
Madam Alice looked up from her velvet armchair, her expression as calm and fake as always. A steaming cup of herbal tea sat untouched beside her.
“Alex, darling,” she said smoothly, placing a hand over her chest, “why would you accuse me of something so cruel?”
I clenched my fists. “I heard you. Last night. The papers are signed. She’ll be his by dawn. Who is he, Alice? Who the hell did you sell me to?”
She rose slowly, her heels clicking against the marble. “You’re overthinking again. You’ve been so... emotionally unstable since your father passed.”
Don’t bring him into this.
“You’re insane if you think I’ll just go along with this,” I snapped. “I’m not your pawn in all this games you're playing!.”
My voice laced with anger, revealing every part of my emotions.
Her mask slipped just enough to show her real face—cold, sharp, venomous.
“And yet, here you are. Still under my roof. Still eating my food. You owe us, Alex. Your father left behind more debt than love, I’m afraid I have to do anything just to clear those up!”
“You’re lying—”
Before I could finish, two guards appeared behind me. Thick-armed. Unsmiling.
Alice’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Take her to the basement. She needs rest. She can't be weak before leaving the house!”
I fought against their grip as they dragged me through the corridor. “Let go of me!”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Alice called after me sweetly. “You’ll look beautiful in white, than rags.”
---
The basement was bare. Just a mattress in the corner, a bucket of water, and a camera in the ceiling’s corner blinking red.
I paced until my legs ached. I screamed until my throat was raw.
No one came to help.
No one cared.
---
Night fell like a curse.
With my mind knowing what next would happen next to me.
The door opened without warning. Four men in black filed in, silent and mechanical. One of them tossed a black cloth at me. A blindfold.
“No—No! Get away from me!”
They didn’t speak. They grabbed me.
I screamed and kicked, but it was useless. Someone gagged me, yanked my arms behind my back, and bound them tightly.
I was dragged out of my home like luggage.
…..or a nobody
As they pulled me outside, I heard laughter from the house.
Familiar. Mocking.
Kate.
I twisted my head, blindfold slipping slightly. She stood on the balcony, arms folded, her silk robe fluttering in the breeze. Her lips pulled into a smile so wide it made my blood run cold.
She waved.
Enjoy your new life, her eyes said.
---
The SUV jeep was colder than a freezer. My body bounced against leather seats as the car sped through unfamiliar streets. The air smelled like mint and steel.
They didn’t speak.
Not once.
---
When the car finally stopped, I was yanked out like cargo. My feet sank into soft gravel. The wind was sharp and carried no sound, no comfort.
Someone removed the blindfold.
I blinked.
Before me stood a towering estate—black marble walls, pointed rooftops, motionless guards standing like statues. Every window was closed, every light dim.
It didn’t feel like a home.
It felt like a fortress.
Or a prison.
I turned toward the man waiting near the gate.
He was tall, dressed in black with gloves and glasses. His face was blank, unreadable.
“Where am I?” I asked.
He didn’t respond.
Just nodded once.
The guards shoved me forward.
As I was led inside, everything around me screamed danger. Expensive silence. Cold opulence. Walls that seemed to whisper secrets.
We passed paintings—striking, brutal images of war and fire. We passed armed men with earpieces. We passed fear.
A door opened at the end of the hall.
The silent man disappeared through it.
I was stripped of everything. My bag. My phone. Even the bracelet my father gave me.
“You won’t need this,” one of them muttered.
“What is this place?” I demanded. “What’s going on?”
The other answered without blinking, “Bride’s quarters are upstairs.”
Bride?
I laughed, but it came out shaky. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I’m not marrying anyone.”
They didn’t answer.
---
The room they shoved me into was cold. White linens. Steel desk. Windows that didn’t open.
No mirrors.
No reflection.
Just silence.
I sat on the edge of the bed, my arms hugging my knees.
Fear burned in my chest.
But something else did, too.
Fury.
I didn’t know who had bought me or why. But I wasn’t going down without answers.
Without a fight.
---
Hours passed.
A knock.
I was led down another hallway, this one darker, longer.
We stopped at a set of double doors.
They opened without sound.
I stepped into a study lit by a single chandelier, books lining the walls, a massive desk in the center.
And behind it—him.
Damian Blackwood.
Sharp suit. Expression unreadable. Jet-black eyes that held no emotion. A gun lay on the polished surface beside his gloved hand, like a casual accessory.
He looked at me.
No smile. No welcome.
Only one sentence.
“Welcome to your new life, dear Alex.”
I stared at the gun in his hand. Then at him.
And for the first time, I understood—
This wasn’t just a transaction.
This was a warning.
- Writer
