chapter 3
1589 Words
CHAPTER 3: THE APARTMENT
The elevator keeps going up.
Like, it won't stop. My ears are popping. That weird pressure thing where you can feel the air changing. I hate that feeling. It makes me dizzy.
Dominic is standing next to me. He's got one hand in his pocket. His face is like... nothing. Empty. Like he's not even thinking about anything. Or maybe he's thinking about a lot and just not showing it.
It's only been like, a few hours? Since the courthouse wedding. Since we signed the papers, the judge said we're married now. But it feels like years already. Like I've been trapped in this nightmare for forever.
The silver band on my finger is so heavy. I keep thinking about it. It's there. It's real. It's actually on my finger.
The elevator doors open.
I just..stop.
The apartment is not what I expected.
Wait. No. It is what I expected. It's worse than I expected.
There's windows everywhere. Like, the whole wall is basically windows. The whole city is right there below us. Glowing. All those tiny lights. All those tiny people who are free and can do whatever they want. The floor is black marble. Shiny. I can see myself in it and I look like a ghost. Paintings on the walls that probably cost more than I make in a year. Furniture that looks like it belongs in a museum. Not a place where someone actually lives.
It's beautiful.
But it's cold. So cold. Like the cold that comes from inside a place, not from the temperature. It's an empty cold.
"You'll get used to it," Dominic says. He walks past me like I'm not even there.
"I don't want to get used to it," I say.
He doesn't answer. He just walks away.
A woman comes from down the hallway. She's middle-aged. She's wearing a black dress. Like a uniform or something.
"Good evening, Mr. Russo," she says. She's smiling. Actually smiling. Like this is normal. Like this is just a regular night.
"This is Elena," Dominic says. "She manages the house. Take care of things."
Elena smiles at me and she seems nice. Which is weird because everyone else in this situation is not nice.
"Welcome, Mrs. Russo," she says.
My stomach flips. Actually flips.
Mrs. Russo. I'm Mrs. Russo now. That's my name now. Except it's not. It's not my name. It's just something I have to wear for one year.
"I'm not staying," I say. I say it like I mean it. Like I'm just here for a minute.
Neither of them react. They don't say anything. They just kind of... accept it. Like they've heard women say this before. Like it doesn't matter what I say because I'm staying anyway.
Dominic goes to the kitchen. He takes off his tie. Actually take it off and put it on the counter. He puts his phone down too. Everything is so controlled. So careful.
"Come," he says.
Just one word. Come.
"I'd rather not," I say.
"It wasn't a request."
And just like that, the anger comes back. Hot and sharp and useless because I still have to follow him. I still have to do what he says because he owns me now. Or at least he owns this year of my life.
I follow him.
He takes me to this study room. It's huge. Dark. Shelves on every single wall. Books everywhere. A fireplace that's actually burning. Real fire. It's warm here but it still feels cold somehow.
He stops by the desk.
"There are rules," he says.
I cross my arms. I try to look like I don't care but I do care. I care a lot.
"I'm listening," I say.
"You may use any room except the east wing."
"Why? What's in the east wing?"
"You don't need to know."
I literally roll my eyes. I can't help it. I just roll my eyes at him.
"What else?" I ask.
"You don't leave the penthouse without security."
"I can go where I want. I can make my own decisions."
"No," he says.
That's it. Just no. And it comes out so calm. So quiet. It's worse than yelling. Yelling would feel less dangerous somehow.
"You don't contact the press."
"I wasn't going to."
"You don't invite anyone here."
"I don't even want to be here. Why would I invite people?"
He looks at me. Right at me. His grey eyes looked straight into mine
"I know," he says.
And for like, the first time since I've met him, there's something different in his face. Something tired. Not like guilt or anything. Not like he's sorry. Just like he's exhausted. Like this is exhausting for him too somehow.
"You'll have everything you need," he says.
"I don't want expensive furniture. I don't care about furniture."
"You'll have it anyway."
"I want my apartment. My actual apartment where I live."
He doesn't answer.
"I want my job. I need to work. I need to make money."
"I want my life. I want my whole life back."
His jaw gets tight. I can see it. The muscle in his jaw just tightens.
"That life is over," he says.
Those words just... hit me. Like a physical hit. Like someone slapped me across the face.
I turn away because I can feel the tears. I can feel them coming and I don't want him to see them. I don't want him to see that he hurt me. I don't want him to see anything.
That night...
I couldn't sleep.
Every room feels wrong. Feels like it doesn't belong to me. The bed is too soft. Too fancy. It's like sleeping on clouds and I hate it. I'm used to my own bed. A normal bed. A bed that feels like home.
The silence is weird too. It's too quiet. Like deafening quiet. There's no traffic noise from outside. No neighbors. No sounds of people living their lives. Just nothing.
Around midnight, I got up.
I slip out of the bedroom. My heart is already going fast. Maybe I can actually leave. Maybe the guards went home. Maybe nobody is actually watching me. Maybe this whole thing is a huge misunderstanding and I can just go home and pretend this day never happened.
The elevator is at the end of the hallway.
Hope. I actually feel hope in my chest. Like a little spark. Like maybe I have a chance.
I walk toward it. Fast. Not running but almost running.
Just before I press the button, two men step out of the shadows.
I didn't even see them. I didn't even know they were there.
One is older. Really older. He's got scars running across his face. deep scars. The other one is young. Like maybe my age or a bit younger. He could be somebody's brother
"I'm leaving," I say. I try to sound sure about it.
The older man nods. Respectfully.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," he says.
But he doesn't move. Neither does the other one.
"I'm leaving," I say again. Like maybe if I say it again it will be true.
"We can't allow that," the older one says.
"You can't stop me. I'm walking to the elevator. I'm getting in. I'm leaving."
His face doesn't change at all.
"We can stop you," he says.
I start walking toward the elevator anyway. What's he going to do? What's he actually going to do?
The younger guard just..moves. Quietly. He steps between me and the doors. Not aggressive. Not like grabbing me or anything. Just impossible to get around. Like a wall.
The frustration is so hot inside me. I actually feel it burning.
"So this is a prison," I say. "You literally locked me in a prison."
Nobody answers.
Then I hear it. Footsteps. Slow footsteps coming from down the hallway.
I don't even have to turn around. I know it's him.
Dominic.
"I told you," he says. His voice is quiet. So quiet.
I spin around.
"You locked me in," I say. "You locked me in this place."
"I protected you."
"I didn't ask for your protection. I didn't ask for any of this."
"No," he says. His voice is still calm. Everything about him is still calm. "You didn't."
We just stand there. Staring at each other. For like, a really long time. Just looking at each other.
And I'm so angry. So completely angry.
"I hate you," I whisper. It comes out small but I mean it. I really mean it.
Something moves across his face. Something flickers. And then it's gone before I can figure out what it was.
"I know," he says.
He looks at the guards.
"You can go," he says.
They just disappear. No questions. No nothing. They just leave.
Dominic looks back at me.
"If you need anything, tell Elena. She'll get it for you."
"I need freedom. I need to leave. That's what I need."
His eyes stay on mine for a really long time. Like he's thinking about something. Like he's deciding whether to say something or not.
Then he just walks away. He doesn't answer. He doesn't say anything.
He just walks away.
I'm standing there alone by the elevator. And I finally got it. I finally understand what just happened.
The wedding was only ten minutes long. That's all it took to ruin my life. Ten minutes.
But the prison sentence? The prison sentence just started. That's going to last a whole year.
A whole year of this.
- Writer
