Bound to the Ruthless Billionaire Episode 3:
1367 Words
Episode 3: Beneath the Ice
By Rhemita Stories
The mansion was asleep, but Elena couldn’t.
The night wind hissed against the windowpane, echoing the war inside her chest. She sat by the glass wall, knees drawn to her chest, staring at the city lights far below. The world outside was beautiful — alive. Inside this house, everything felt like a cage wrapped in gold.
She replayed his words again. “You’re a debt payment.”
The way he said it — calm, final — broke something deep inside her.
A faint knock broke her thoughts. She turned quickly.
The door opened halfway. A maid’s voice whispered through. “Madam, Mr. Knight asked that you come to his study.”
Elena frowned. “At this hour?”
“Yes, Madam. He said it’s important.”
With a sigh, she rose, slipping her robe over her nightgown. Every step through the dim hallway felt like walking deeper into the lion’s den.
When she reached the study, Andrian was seated behind his massive black desk, illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp. Papers spread before him, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand.
He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”
“It’s midnight,” she said sharply. “Normal people sleep at this hour.”
He raised his eyes slowly, a hint of mockery curling his lips. “And you think I’m normal?”
Her heart stuttered. He looked exhausted — tie loosened, eyes shadowed, jaw tight. For a fleeting moment, he didn’t look like the monster she hated. He looked… human.
But then he spoke again, and the illusion shattered.
“Sit.”
She hesitated.
“I said sit, Elena.”
She dropped into the leather chair opposite him. “What now? Another rule?”
His tone cooled further. “I noticed you left the gala early without notifying anyone. That breaks rule two.”
She stared at him. “You’re unbelievable. I felt dizzy. You think I needed your permission to breathe?”
“You signed a contract, not a fairy tale,” he replied, voice calm but dangerous. “Every action of yours reflects on my name. You’ll follow the terms, or I’ll make sure your father’s company never sees daylight again.”
Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”
He leaned forward, eyes glacial. “Try me.”
Tears stung her eyes before she could stop them. “You hate me that much?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “You remind me of everything your family took from mine.”
“So this marriage is just your revenge?” she whispered.
He looked up, and something flickered behind his gaze — guilt, maybe, or pain. “It’s business.”
“No, it’s cruelty,” she said, standing up. “You want to punish me for something I didn’t do. You’re pathetic.”
He was on his feet in a second, closing the space between them. “Watch your mouth, Elena.”
“Or what?” she snapped, glaring up at him. “You’ll add another rule? Maybe ‘no breathing without permission’?”
For a heartbeat, silence. Then his jaw clenched. He stepped closer — so close she could feel the heat of his anger.
“You think this house is a prison?” he murmured. “You haven’t seen real control yet.”
Her pulse raced. “You can’t scare me.”
His lips twitched — not quite a smile. “Good. Fear is boring.”
He turned away, walking toward the window, his reflection dark against the city skyline. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start acting like a married couple. The press will be at the charity orphanage. Wear something that says ‘perfect wife,’ not rebellion.”
Elena’s voice trembled. “Why do you even care what they think?”
He didn’t look back. “Because image is power, and power keeps people like you safe.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “You really think money can fix everything.”
He finally turned, his expression unreadable. “No. But it can destroy what’s already broken.”
Their eyes met — cold storm against silent fire. Neither looked away.
Finally, she whispered, “I wish I’d never met you.”
He replied softly, “The feeling’s mutual.”
But after she left, he stood there alone, staring at the glass where her reflection had been. The faintest hint of conflict clouded his steel-gray eyes. He poured another drink — this time, the hand holding the glass shook slightly.
---
The next morning came with heavy silence. Elena woke early, refusing to show weakness. She picked a simple white dress, elegant but modest. Maya’s call blinked on her phone screen, but she ignored it. Andrian’s words still echoed: “No random calls to your family.”
At breakfast, Andrian was already seated, reading the newspaper. The air between them was brittle.
“You’re punctual,” he said without looking up.
“I learn fast,” she shot back.
He folded the paper neatly and looked at her. “Good. Then you’ll manage today’s event without embarrassing me.”
“Do you ever stop commanding?”
“Do you ever stop arguing?”
They stared each other down for a full five seconds before the butler coughed softly. “Sir, the car is ready.”
The drive to the orphanage was tense. Outside, reporters swarmed. Cameras flashed as soon as they stepped out together — Andrian’s hand on her back again, the perfect husband in public.
“Elena Knight, how do you feel about your new life as Mrs. Knight?” one reporter shouted.
Elena smiled tightly. “It’s… an adjustment.”
Andrian’s grip tightened just slightly — a silent warning. She forced the rest of her smile. “But I’m happy to be part of something meaningful.”
He leaned in, whispering under the noise of the crowd, “You’re learning.”
“Learning to lie,” she muttered.
The event continued smoothly until a child tugged her hand. A little girl, maybe seven, with big brown eyes and messy hair. “Miss, are you sad?”
Elena blinked, surprised. “Why would you think that?”
“Because your eyes look lonely,” the girl said.
For the first time in days, Elena smiled genuinely. “You’re very smart.”
Andrian, who stood nearby, watched silently. Something in his chest stirred — something he didn’t want to name.
After the event, they returned home in silence.
Halfway through the ride, Elena finally spoke. “Why do you hate my family so much?”
He stiffened. “Drop it.”
“No,” she said, her voice rising. “You owe me the truth, Andrian. You’ve made me pay for something I don’t even understand!”
His jaw tightened. “Your father—” he stopped, then looked away. “Your father ruined my family’s company. My mother died trying to clean up his mess.”
Her mouth opened in shock. “That’s not true! My father—”
“Enough.” His voice cracked like thunder.
Tears filled her eyes. “You’re punishing the wrong person.”
He turned to her, face hard. “Maybe. But you’re the only one left to punish.”
The car stopped in front of the mansion. Without another word, he stepped out and walked away, leaving her staring after him.
For the first time, Elena realized there was more beneath Andrian’s ice — pain, loss, maybe even guilt. But how deep did it go?
And somewhere in that cold heart, she saw something she shouldn’t have — humanity.
---
That night, as rain began to fall outside, Elena stood by her window again, lost in thought. She whispered to herself, “I’ll survive this… and maybe, I’ll find the real Andrian beneath all that hate.”
Far away in his study, Andrian looked up from his files at the sound of thunder. His hand hovered over the glass again — but this time, he didn’t drink.
Instead, he whispered her name softly into the dark.
“Elena…”
---
To be continued…
- Writer
