The Claim
1228 Words
The reception hall in Blackwood Tower glittered like a trap.
Sixty floors up, the city spread out below as if Damian owned it. He probably did now.
His arm never left Isabella’s waist. Not for the photos. Not when the MC announced them. Not even when he cut the cake and smeared icing on her lip and licked it off it himself like it was a claim.
As they danced alone in the middle of the room, Damian frowned.
“You’re quiet,” he said low, digging his fingernails into her bare skin at her side.
“That’s unusual for a bride, don’t you think?” He added.
Isabella shut her eyes, groaned softly, then opened them. “I’m not quiet.”
She shot back without looking at him.
Then he lifted her chin, and her frightened gaze met his.
“You’re not? Meaning you’re happy?” His eyes narrowed.
She swallowed hard and looked down.
“I’m numb,” she replied, and he shook his head, pretending they were both enjoying each other’s company.
He leaned in.
“For what your stupid father did, I will make you suffer, Bella. I know he doesn’t care, but by the time I’m done with you, no one would be able to recognize you.”
Instantly, chills ran down Isabella’s spine, and she moved back, her eyes watery.
But as she looked around, she saw faces smiling at the union—including the man who was selling her out to pay his debt.
Damian smiled and held out his hand. Isabella stared for some time, then glanced at the crowd, who started murmuring among themselves.
There was indeed no escape for her. She took a deep breath and placed her hand in his as he twirled her around and pulled her back into his arms—the crowd believing the fake warmth. The fake joy.
He leaned in, just when she leaned back. Then slowly he grabbed the back of her head and shoved it forward, laying it against his chest.
She tried to raise her head, but he held her in that position as their legs moved to the rhythm.
He whispered, “I own you now. You are going to be the one to help me get back at your stupid father for what he did.”
She tried lifting her head but he shoved it down, pressing it against his boroas chest.
She shut her eyes and took in a deep breathe.
“Why do you have to get back at him when I am his payment? Am I not enough?”
She didn’t even understand the question herself. Why was she speaking on behalf of the man who had tossed her away without a second thought?
Damian laughed—a cold, cruel laugh.
“You will never be enough. Not even in your death. The hatred I have for you and your family is immeasurable, and I am going to carve each and every one of you just as I have planned in my head.
Goosebumps graced her body suddenly as she slowly lifted her head, this time he allowed it, their gazes meeting.
He smiled, twirling her around like he hadn’t just threatened her a few seconds ago.
“Smile, my love, you’re a bride!”
He said it with a smile noticeable to the guests, but his gaze was frightful to Isabella.
Across the room, Richard was laughing too loud, drinking too fast. Relief poured off him in waves.
He thought it was over. That he’d paid his debt and kept his company from being crashed by Damian. He thought he had escaped his wrath.
He hadn’t read the fine print.
Damian made sure of it without letting him know.
After about thirty minutes of the first dance, they invited other couples to the floor, and this was when Isabella could slip away.
Damian let her go, confident there was nowhere she could run. Two of his men stood by the elevators anyway.
She didn’t need to run—she couldn’t. She only needed thirty seconds alone to breathe.
The penthouse was too quiet for a wedding night.
Isabella stood barefoot on the cold marble floor, still in her dress, the lace now wrinkled and stained with sweat she hadn’t noticed until now.
The veil was gone. The guests were gone. The only thing left was Damian’s presence behind her, heavy and unmoving.
She hadn’t spoken since they got home.
Damian hadn’t either. Not until he set his phone down on the glass table with a deliberate click.
“Bella.”
She flinched at the nickname. He only used it when he wanted something.
“I’m listening,” she said calmly without turning around.
For some reason, that annoyed him.
He walked forward, grabbed her by her hair, and threw her to the ground.
Isabella groaned, her left shoulder smacking the hard floor painfully.
“When I call your name, you say ‘sir.’ Do I make myself clear?”
He screamed. Isabella’s eyes turned red, shivering from fear, but he stood up and took a deep breath.
“Sit. Let’s drink.”
He said it casually as he turned and walked to the wine cabinet to pour himself a drink.
Isabella quickly took a seat, wiping her tears before he got back.
He sighed.
“Now, tell me who your father is. Leave no details.”
He said it, and she panicked. She didn’t know the man he was asking about—the man she had called father for twenty-eight years. The man who stopped being her father after her mother went missing.
How was she supposed to speak about him?
She took a deep breath and wiped her face even before the tears could fall.
She sniffled.
“Richard is um… Richard loves his family. He…”
Damian burst into laughter. “Certainly not you.” He remarked rudely as she nodded, wiping her tears once again.
“Go on,” he said, his glass resting on his lap as he stared right into her soul.
“Honestly, I don’t know him, sir. He was a better father, but a cruel husband when we all stayed together. After she went missing he just spiraled into something else. But he really does love his new family. Maybe it was my mom and I he didn’t love.”
Those words stung harder than she thought it would. Her mother’s joyful memories flooding her thoughts.
Damian set his glass down with a sharp crack.
“Enough.”
The word silenced the room.
“I’ve heard enough of that bullshit!” he said, and she nodded quickly.
He turned and suddenly leaned toward her, slow and deliberate, but Isabella kept scooting back until her back hit the end of the chair.
“Please don’t. I’m hurting already,” she pleaded, knowing what he intended to do.
He ignored her, his hand shooting out for her arm.
Isabella tried to pull his hand off, but unfortunately, he was stronger.
“Let go of me!” she hissed, voice shaking.
Pinning her back against the chair, he caged her in with his arms.
“You signed the contract, Isabella,” he said low.
“Now you get to live with the consequences.”
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t even breathe right.
And suddenly the room went dark for her.
- Writer
