Bound by vengeance, torn by love

Under His Control

ISABELLA'S POV

The first morning, I woke up not knowing where I was.

For one beautiful, terrible second, I thought I was still in my apartment in Brooklyn.

Then I opened my eyes and saw the floor-to-ceiling windows, the expensive furniture, the view of the Hudson River stretching out.

I was in Damian Cross's penthouse as his new wife.

I lay there for a long time. Staring at the ceiling. Trying to figure out how my life had become this. How signing one contract had erased everything I'd built.

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. Elena's voice came through, sharp and impatient.

"Breakfast is in thirty minutes. Don't be late."

I didn't answer or move. I just listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway.

Eventually I got up. Showered in the huge bathroom with its marble counters and rain shower head. Put on clothes from the closet that had been filled overnight with things in exactly my size.

Breakfast was served in a dining room. Long table, expensive china. Food that looked beautiful and tasted like nothing.

I was alone, Damian was already gone. He had probably been gone for hours.

Elena appeared as I was finishing. She handed me a tablet without a word.

"House schedule and rules. Memorize it."

I looked at the screen. Saw my life reduced to bullet points and time slots. When I could eat, when I could sleep. What rooms I was allowed in. What I absolutely could not do.

"What if I want to leave?" I asked. I knew the answer but needed to hear it out loud.

"You can't. Not without Mr. Cross's permission and a security escort." Elena's face showed nothing.

"Those are the terms of your arrangement."

"Can I call my friends? My old coworkers?"

"All communication must be approved through me first."

"Can I use the internet?"

"Limited access. No social media, no email. Nothing that could compromise Mr. Cross's privacy or security."

"What can I do?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.

"Just sit here and wait to die of boredom?"

Elena's expression didn't change.

"There's a library on the third floor. A gym on the second. You're free to use both. Just don't touch anything in Mr. Cross's private office or bedroom."

She left before I could ask anything else. Left me sitting at that long empty table in a room too big for one person.

I spent the rest of the morning exploring.

The penthouse was huge. Four floors, rooms I didn't have names for. Art on the walls worth more than most people made in a lifetime. Everything looked expensive.

I found the library on the third floor like Elena said. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Leather chairs. Windows overlooking the city. It should have been beautiful. Would have been, if I'd chosen to be here.

I ran my fingers along the spines.

And there, tucked in a corner, books on corporate law and marriage contracts.

Something stirred in my chest, not quite hope. But close.

I pulled out a book on contract law. Sat in one of those leather chairs and started reading.

If I was trapped in this arrangement, I needed to understand it, needed to find the loopholes. The weaknesses. The way out.

Hours passed. I read about binding agreements and legal obligations. About conditions and clauses. About ways contracts could be voided or challenged.

Nothing applied to me. Nothing helped.

The contract I'd signed was rigid. Five years of marriage or my father went to prison. No way out.

I was trapped, completely trapped.

The realization settled over me like ice. I closed the book and pressed my forehead against the cool leather. I tried not to cry.

That's when I heard footsteps. Elena.

"Mr. Cross wants you to know that any attempt to find legal loopholes will be reported to him." Her voice was flat. Matter-of-fact.

"He has cameras throughout the penthouse. He knows you're in the library. He knows what you're reading."

My head snapped up.

"He's watching me?"

"He watches everything that belongs to him."

Belongs to him. Like I was property. An object he'd purchased.

Rage flared hot in my chest.

"I'm a person. Not a thing he owns."

"That's between you and Mr. Cross." Elena turned to leave.

"Lunch is at noon. Don't be late."

She was gone before I could respond. Before I could scream. Before I could throw something at her retreating back.

I sat there shaking. Fury and helplessness warring inside me.

He was watching. So I had no privacy.

The days blurred together after that. Same schedule, same empty rooms, same suffocating rules.

I ate alone. Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Just me and expensive food I barely tasted.

I slept alone in that huge bed always staring at the ceiling and counting down the days.

Damian was barely home. I'd catch glimpses of him sometimes. Coming in late or leaving early. He was always on his phone.

Part of me was grateful, while part of me hated it. Like I wasn't even worth his attention.

At night, I was in the library again. Reading the same contract law book.

I heard footsteps. Elena checking on me probably. Making sure I wasn't trying to escape through the windows four stories up.

But when I looked up, it wasn't Elena.

It was him. Damian Cross, standing in the doorway. Looking at me like he was surprised to find me there even though he knew. Even though he was always watching.

"You're still looking for loopholes." His voice was cold.

"There aren't any."

I closed the book slowly. Kept my face blank the way I'd learned to do with my father.

"I know."

"Then why keep reading?"

"Because it's better than sitting in that room doing nothing. Because I need to feel like I'm doing something. Because if I stop trying, I stop existing."

The words spilled out before I could stop them.

Something flickered in his eyes.

"You chose this."

"You signed the contract."

"I had no choice." My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against the book to hide it.

"My father was going to prison. I couldn't let that happen."

"Everyone has a choice." He moved into the room. Not close. Just enough that I could see him properly.

"You just didn't like the consequences of yours."

"That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair." He said it without emotion. Without sympathy. Just cold truth.

"The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

I stood up. Faced him. Refused to sit while he looked down at me.

"Is that what you tell yourself? That life isn't fair so it's okay to trap people? To buy them like property?"

His jaw tightened.

"I didn't buy you. I made a legal arrangement with your father. You agreed to the terms."

"Because the alternative was watching him go to prison!"

"And you couldn't live with that." He studied me. Those gray eyes seeing too much.

"So you chose to sacrifice yourself instead. That was your choice, Isabella. Own it."

The use of my name startled me. He'd barely spoken to me since the wedding. Certainly never used my name.

"You don't understand." My voice cracked. "You couldn't possibly understand."

"I understand more than you think." Something in his tone shifted. He sounded softer,almost.

"I understand guilt. I understand making choices you hate because all the other options are worse."

For a second, just a second, he looked almost human. Like there was a real person underneath the cold exterior.

Then it was gone.

"The library is yours to use. Read whatever you want. Just stop trying to find ways out. There aren't any. Accept it and move on."

He turned to leave. He got halfway to the door before I spoke.

"How long?" My voice was quiet.

"How long do I have to live like this before you decide I've paid enough?"

He stopped but didn't turn around.

"Five years. That's what the contract says."

"And if I can't survive five years of this?"

"You'll survive." He looked back. His eyes met my eyes.

"People can survive anything if they have to. You'll learn that."

Then he was gone. He left me standing in the library with questions that needed answers.