Willingly
1062 Words
All eyes on me.
Isabella’s red smile. The officers’ tired faces. Damian’s hand tight around mine like I was the only solid thing in the world.
“Sir, is this woman here willingly?” the officer asked again.
The apartment went silent. Even the fridge hum felt loud.
Isabella stepped forward. “Officer, she’s clearly brainwashed. Damian Black coerced her into marriage. Look at her — no shoes, wearing his shirt. She’s a victim.”
Damian’s jaw ticked. But he didn’t speak. Didn’t defend himself.
He just looked at me. Grey eyes saying: _Your choice. Always your choice._
I stepped forward. Past him. In front of the police.
“No,” I said. Clear. Loud.
Isabella’s smile widened. “See? She’s—”
“I’m not a victim,” I cut her off. Turned to the officer. “I’m here willingly. I married Damian Black because I wanted to. I’m wearing his shirt because I slept in his bed last night. Because I chose to.”
Damian exhaled behind me. Like he’d been holding his breath since Chapter 1.
The officer frowned. Looked between us. “Ma’am, are you under duress? You can tell us. We can help.”
I laughed. Couldn’t help it. “The only duress I’m under is from my husband who burns toast and can’t work a washing machine. If that’s a crime, arrest him for that.”
One officer almost smiled. The other didn’t.
Isabella’s face twisted. “She’s lying! He threatened her with a $50M penalty clause—”
“Clause 8.3,” I finished for her. “Mutual consent only. I signed an addendum last night. I stay because I want to. Not because he forced me.”
I held up my phone. Showed the photo I’d taken of the contract. My messy addendum. His signature under it.
The officer took it. Scanned it. Frowned.
“Mr. Black, you’re still under arrest,” he said finally. “Allegation of unlawful confinement needs investigation. 48 hours max. Then we sort it.”
Isabella looked triumphant. “Told you.”
Damian didn’t resist when they cuffed him. He just looked at me over his shoulder as they walked him out.
“Don’t wait for me,” he said quietly. “Go home, Ava.”
“Home is wherever you are,” I replied. “Even jail, Mr. Black.”
His mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Then the door closed.
---
*3 Hours Later - Police Station*
The station smelled like bleach and bad coffee.
Isabella sat in the lobby, filing her nails. “Don’t bother, Ava. I froze all his accounts this morning. He can’t pay bail. He’ll sit in there until the board votes him out for good.”
I didn’t answer her. Walked straight to the desk.
“I’m here to bail out Damian Black,” I said.
The clerk blinked. “Bail is $2M. Cash or property.”
I reached into my bag. Pulled out a small black velvet box.
Opened it.
Not a ring. A key. Small. Old.
“Key to a safety deposit box,” I said. “Bank of Singapore. Box 447. Inside: Bearer bonds. $5M. In my maiden name. From my grandmother. Untraceable. Untouchable by Vance Corp.”
Isabella shot to her feet. “You don’t have—”
“I do,” I said. “My grandmother knew men like Damian. Powerful. Possessive. She told me to always keep an exit fund. I never thought I’d use it to get him _into_ my life instead of out.”
The clerk verified it. 20 minutes later, Damian walked out in the same white tee from this morning.
Cuff marks on his wrists. Hair messy. Eyes finding me instantly.
He stopped in front of me. Didn’t touch. Just looked.
“You sold your grandmother’s bonds for me,” he said. Voice rough.
“I bought my husband back,” I corrected. “You’re welcome.”
For a second, he just stared. Then he did what he’d been dying to do since the police took him.
He pulled me into his chest. Hard. Face in my hair. Breathing me in like I was oxygen.
“You’re insane,” he muttered against my scalp. “I lost billions. You sold your last safety net for me.”
“Guess we’re both insane then,” I whispered back. Arms around his waist. Under his shirt. Feeling his heart hammer. “What now, Mr. Broke?”
He pulled back. Cuff marks red on his skin. But eyes bright. Alive.
“Now,” he said, lacing his fingers through mine, “we go home. Cook that ramen again. And I teach you how a broke man loves his wife.”
Isabella blocked our path. “This isn’t over, Damian. You have no company. No money. No power. What can you possibly offer her now?”
Damian looked down at me. Then at her.
“I can offer her me,” he said simply. “Turns out, that’s all she ever wanted.”
He led me past her. Past the flashing cameras. Past the “broke CEO” headlines already loading on phones.
In the taxi, he didn’t let go of my hand. Traced circles on my knuckles with his thumb. The way he did when he was thinking.
“What?” I asked.
“I was going to burn the world for you,” he said. “Turns out I just had to be the man worth choosing without it.”
The taxi stopped at our brick-wall apartment.
He paid with cash. Last $40 in his wallet.
As we climbed the stairs, he stopped on the landing. Turned to me.
“Ava,” he said. Serious. No CEO. No mask. “If I can’t give you money, status, or security… will I be enough?”
I unlocked the door. Pulled him inside.
Pushed him against the wall. Stole his answer before he could ask again.
“Yes,” I breathed against his mouth. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”
His hands came up to my face. Not claiming. Holding. Like I might disappear.
The kiss was slow this time. No audience. No stakes. Just us.
Broke. Free. His.
And when he carried me to that creaky mattress again, there were no rules. No contracts. No countdown.
Just Damian Black. And me. Choosing each other.
- Writer
