Daddy's Best Friend Bought Me

CHAPTER SIX: Campus

Viktor drives a car that costs more than most people's houses.

I sit in the back of the black Mercedes, watching Boston slide past tinted windows. Normal people walking to work, grabbing coffee, living lives where they make their own choices. I'm in a different universe now, separated by bulletproof glass and money and a man who thinks he owns me.

Viktor hasn't said a word since we left the penthouse. He just opened the car door, waited for me to get in, and started driving. His silence is somehow more unnerving than conversation would be.

I'm wearing my own clothes, at least. Jeans and a BU sweatshirt I found in one of the boxes delivered this morning. Small rebellion, refusing to wear anything Marcus bought. Though the distinction feels meaningless when I'm sitting in his car, being driven by his employee, living in his penthouse.

My phone is in my pocket. Fully charged now, tracking software installed. Marcus's parting words echo in my head: Make any call you want.

I pull it out, stare at the screen. Lily's texts from last night are there, along with Marcus's responses pretending to be me.

Lily: Happy birthday babe! Sorry I'm stuck in chem lab

"Me": No worries! Dad surprised me with family dinner

Lily: Aw that's sweet! He actually showed up?

"Me": Yeah. Long story. Staying with relatives for a bit, family emergency. Will explain later

Lily: Everything ok???

"Me": Yeah, just complicated. Talk soon

The lies are so smooth. So believable. Of course I'd stay with relatives during a family emergency. Of course I'd be vague about details. Marcus has thought of everything.

I could text her right now. Tell her the truth. Help, I've been kidnapped by a billionaire.

But what would she do? Call the police, like Marcus said. Who would contact him, probably, since his name is all over the charity galas they attend. Or they'd dismiss it entirely because I'm living in luxury, not chained in a basement.

The perfect crime. Hide it in plain sight.

"We're here," Viktor says. First words he's spoken.

Boston University's campus spreads in front of us. Students everywhere, backpacks and coffee cups and the organized chaos of the first week of fall semester. My world. The place where I'm supposed to be normal.

Viktor pulls up to the curb near the communication building where my Victorian Literature class meets.

"I will be here at five-thirty," he says. "Do not be late."

"Or what?"

He turns to look at me, those pale gray eyes unreadable. "Do not be late."

The door unlocks with a soft click. I get out before he can open it for me.

The campus smells like coffee and old books and possibility. Students rush past, complaining about syllabi and professor assignments. Someone's playing music from a dorm window. A group is tossing a frisbee on the lawn despite it being eight-forty-five in the morning.

Normal. Everything is so beautifully normal.

I start walking toward the building, and that's when I see her.

Lily is standing by the entrance, clearly waiting. She spots me and waves, her face lighting up.

No. She can't be here. She has chemistry at nine.

I force a smile and walk over, very aware that Viktor is still watching from the car.

"Hey!" Lily hugs me, and the familiar comfort of it almost breaks me. "I skipped lab. Needed to see you. What's going on? Your texts were weird, and your dad was super sketchy when I called your house."

"I'm fine." The lies come easier than they should. "Just some family drama. You know how it is."

"I really don't." Lily studies my face, concern creasing her forehead. She's wearing her glasses today, which means she worked late and didn't bother with contacts. Her hair is in a messy bun, and there's a coffee stain on her hoodie. Everything about her is familiar and safe and from a life that ended yesterday. "You look exhausted. Did you sleep?"

"Not much."

"Bella." She grabs my arm, pulls me aside from the flow of students. "Talk to me. What's actually going on? And why did I see you get out of a car that costs more than our tuition?"

My heart pounds. Viktor is still visible from here, leaning against the Mercedes, watching.

"It's complicated," I say.

"Uncomplicate it."

I open my mouth, and the truth sits right there. Right on my tongue. I was sold. I'm being held captive. I need help.

But then I see it. Across the lawn, partially hidden behind a tree. Another man in a suit. Watching us. Watching me.

Marcus said I was free to go to campus. Free to see my friends. Free to call for help.

He didn't say I'd be alone.

"My mom's family reached out," I hear myself say. The lie forms perfectly, like Marcus wrote the script. "From Hong Kong. There's some inheritance stuff, and it's messy, and I'm staying with family lawyers while it gets sorted out."

Lily's eyebrows rise. "Your mom's family? I thought you didn't have contact with them."

"We didn't. But apparently there's money involved, and suddenly they care." I inject bitterness into my voice. Not hard, since I'm bitter about everything. "It's a whole thing. I'll be back in the dorms soon. Just need to deal with some legal paperwork."

It's a good lie. Believable. Explains the expensive car, the sudden absence, the family emergency.

Lily doesn't look convinced. "And you're okay? Really?"

"I'm fine. Promise." I squeeze her hand. "How was your summer? Tell me about your internship."

She lets me change the subject, but I can see doubt in her eyes. Lily's too smart, knows me too well. But what can she do? I'm standing here, clearly fine, going to class like normal.

We walk into the building together, and I feel the suited man's eyes on my back the entire way.

Victorian Literature is in a small seminar room on the third floor. Professor Chen—no relation to my family, thank God—is already there, arranging papers on her desk. She's young for a professor, early thirties, with short dark hair and a reputation for being brilliant and demanding.

I slide into a seat near the back. Lily sits beside me, still watching me with that concerned expression.

Other students filter in. I recognize some from last year. There's Marcus—different Marcus, a guy from my Intro to Poetry class. Jenny, who's always late. Brad, who never does the reading but somehow passes anyway.

Normal people with normal problems.

Professor Chen starts class with a discussion of the syllabus. We're reading Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Villette. Stories about women trapped in houses with men who love them obsessively.

The irony isn't lost on me.

"The Brontë sisters were fascinated by captivity," Professor Chen says, perching on her desk. "Physical, economic, social. Their heroines are constantly navigating spaces where they have limited power, trying to carve out agency within restriction."

I write this down, and my hand is shaking.

"Jane Eyre is particularly interesting," the professor continues. "Rochester essentially holds her captive emotionally. He lies to her, manipulates her, has a wife locked in the attic. And yet—" She pauses. "The novel asks us to see this as a love story. To root for Jane to return to him. The question is: can we? Should we?"

A girl in front raises her hand. "But Rochester changes. He's humbled. He becomes worthy of Jane."

"Does he?" Professor Chen counters. "Or does Jane simply decide to accept him on different terms? She comes back with money of her own, independence, choice. The power dynamic shifts."

My pen stops moving.

"The Brontës understood something crucial," Professor Chen says. "That for love to exist between unequal parties, the inequality must be addressed. Jane can't love Rochester while dependent on him. She can only love him when she has the power to leave."

The words hit like a physical blow.

Class continues, but I'm barely listening. I'm thinking about power dynamics. About choice. About whether love can exist in captivity or only after freedom is established.

When class ends, Lily walks with me to the library. "I have to study for chem, but coffee first?"

"I can't." I check my phone. It's only ten-thirty, but I'm hyperaware of Viktor waiting. Of the suited man who's probably still watching. "I have to meet with the lawyers. Deal with the inheritance stuff."

Another lie. They're getting easier.

Lily hugs me goodbye, and I promise to text her later. I watch her walk away toward the science building, her backpack covered in pins and patches, completely herself.

I miss being completely myself.

I head back outside. Viktor is still there, leaning against the Mercedes like he's been waiting patiently for hours. Maybe he has.

The suited man from earlier is gone, but I know he's around. Somewhere. Watching.

I get in the car without being told.

"How was class?" Viktor asks as he pulls into traffic.

The question surprises me. "Fine."

"What did you discuss?"

"Why do you care?"

He glances at me in the rearview mirror. "Mr. Valerio will ask. I tell him, or you tell him. Your choice."

Of course. Even my classes aren't private.

"Jane Eyre," I say. "Captivity and power dynamics. Really uplifting stuff."

Something that might be amusement flickers across Viktor's face. "Appropriate."

"You've read it?"

"I have daughter your age. In St. Petersburg." His accent thickens slightly. "Before I... left. She loved the Brontës. Always reading."

The personal detail catches me off guard. Viktor as a father. Viktor as someone who left a daughter behind.

"Do you talk to her?" I ask.

"No." The word is final. "Not for six years."

"Why not?"

"Because men like me do not get to keep good things." He says it matter-of-factly, like it's a law of physics. "We make choices. Choices have consequences."

We drive in silence for a while. The city passes. Normal people living normal lives.

"Mr. Valerio is not a bad man," Viktor says suddenly.

I laugh. Actually laugh. "He bought a person."

"He protected a person. There is difference."

"Is there?"

Viktor's eyes meet mine in the mirror. "You are alive. You are safe. You go to school. You see friends. Yes, there is difference."

"I'm a prisoner."

"You are protected." He signals a turn. "The men your father owed? I know these men. I know what they do to pretty girls when debts are not paid. You would not be going to class. You would not be reading about Jane Eyre. You would not be alive."

The casual certainty of it chills me.

"So I should be grateful?" My voice rises. "Thank Marcus for saving me from the fate my father sold me into by selling me to someone else?"

"You should understand context." Viktor pulls up to Valerio Tower. "World is not fair. World is not kind. Sometimes bad choice is better than worse choice."

He gets out, opens my door.

I don't move. "Do you think he'll let me go? Eventually?"

Viktor is quiet for a long moment. Then: "I think Mr. Valerio has waited very long time for you. Men who wait that long do not let go easily."

"That's not an answer."

"It is only answer I have."

I get out of the car and ride the elevator back up to the penthouse, Viktor's words echoing in my head.

The elevator doors open. Marcus is there, waiting.

"How was class?" he asks, like this is normal. Like I'm his girlfriend coming home from school, not his captive returning to her cage.

"Educational," I say. "We discussed whether Rochester deserved Jane. Whether she should have gone back to him."

Marcus's expression doesn't change. "And what did you decide?"

"That she only could have loved him after she had her own money. Her own power. When leaving was a real option."

"Interesting." He steps closer. "And did she leave?"

"No," I admit. "She chose to stay. On her own terms."

"Then perhaps," Marcus says quietly, "there's hope for us yet."

The presumption of it. The confidence.

I push past him into the penthouse. My prison. My temporary home. My complicated reality.

My phone buzzes. A text from Lily.

Something's wrong. I know you. Call me when you can actually talk.

I stare at the message, and I can feel Marcus reading over my shoulder.

"Your friend is perceptive," he says.

"She knows me."

"What will you tell her?"

I turn to face him. "What do you want me to tell her?"

"The truth." His answer surprises me. "Or as much truth as keeps her safe. I won't have her investigating and getting hurt because she cares about you."

The implied threat is clear. Lily's safety depends on my cooperation.

"You're a monster," I whisper.

"Yes," Marcus agrees. "But I'm the monster keeping you alive. Remember that, dolcezza, when you're tempted to play hero. The world is full of worse monsters. And I'm the only thing standing between you and them."

He walks away toward his office, leaving me alone with my phone and a friend I can't tell the truth without putting her in danger.

The cage just got smaller.