The Billionare's Redemption

CHAPTER THREE: LIGHT IN THE CAGE

The morning light slipped through the curtains, but it didn’t bring warmth. I sat quietly at the kitchen table, staring at the untouched breakfast I had prepared.

The night replayed in my mind like a cruel echo — Damien’s laughter with Selene, the sound of their steps up the stairs, the door shutting behind them. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every creak of the house had kept me awake, reminding me that while I wore his ring, someone else had been the one he chose to take upstairs.

I reminded myself of the truth.

This wasn’t love. This wasn’t even a marriage born from choice.

I was here because of my father’s debt. Nothing more.

When Damien finally came down, freshly showered and dressed sharply for work, he didn’t look at me. Not once. He grabbed his coffee, scrolled through his phone, and muttered, “I’ll be home late again.”

I hesitated before speaking, my voice soft. “Where… where’s Selene?”

He finally glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “She left already this morning.” His tone grew colder, sharper. “And before you ask again, you don’t have the right to question me about her. Or about anything.”

The sting of his words made my chest tighten, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and lowered my gaze.

Without another word, Damien walked to the door, slipping on his coat. “Don’t wait up.”

The sound of the door closing echoed through the empty house, leaving me alone with the untouched plates of food — and the bitter reminder of exactly where I stood in his life.

With nothing else to do and the heavy silence pressing in, I dragged myself upstairs. I wasn’t sure if it was exhaustion or defeat, but I crawled into the bed in the guest room and shut my eyes, wishing I could sleep away the emptiness.

When I woke again, the light outside had shifted. My eyes blinked open at the faint sound of heels clicking against the marble floor downstairs.

My chest tightened instantly. Selene.

She was back.

Panic prickled through me as I gripped the banister and carefully made my way down the stairs, bracing myself for the sharp smile and cutting words I had come to dread.

But when I reached the bottom, I froze.

It wasn’t Selene.

It looked like the girl version of Damien. She was beautiful, tall, and elegant with an effortless grace. Dressed in a tailored cream pantsuit and oversized sunglasses, she looked like she walked straight out of a fashion magazine.

“Elena Delgado,” she said, taking off her sunglasses with a dramatic flair. “So you’re the infamous wife.”

I blinked, unsure how to respond. “Uh, yes. That’s me.”

She burst into laughter. “Relax, I’m not here to bite you. I’m Isabel—Damien’s older sister. You’ve probably heard of me.”

I smiled faintly. “Yes, I have. It’s nice to meet you.”

She leaned in with a smirk. “You look like you need a friend—and a strong drink. Unfortunately, all I can offer is sisterly advice and a decent bottle of white wine later.”

Despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach, I laughed. Isabel was sharp and sassy, but there was warmth in her eyes that made me feel oddly seen.

“I heard Selene was here last night,” she said as we walked toward the dining room. “She and Damien have been friends for a long time. Too long, if you ask me. But I don't know what the real score between that two. But Damien’s real best friend isn’t her—it’s Marcus. The three of them were always together when they were younger.”

“I’m not trying to compete,” I said honestly. “I just… don’t want to be miserable in this marriage.”

Isabel gave me a look—one part amused, one part sympathetic. “Sweetheart, welcome to the club. I was in an arranged marriage too, and let me tell you, I hated my husband’s guts for the first six months. But something happened. He started to see me. And when he did, I started to fall for him.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And now?”

She grinned. “Now we’re deeply in love. So take it from me—you can’t wait for Damien to change. You’ve got to shake his world up. Be the storm, not the silence.”

Despite the heaviness in my chest, I smiled faintly. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”

She gave me a knowing look. “Good. Because you’ll need all the strength you can get tonight.”

“Tonight?” I asked, confused.

“We’re having dinner here,” Isabel explained. “With our father. Damien refused to go back to the Mansion, so our dad coming here instead. He insists on checking in after the wedding.”

My heart sank a little. Dinner with Mr. Miranda—Damien’s father. From what I’d heard, he was a man who didn’t miss a single flaw.

Noticing the worry in my face, Isabel leaned closer, her voice softening. “Don’t be scared of him, Elena. Father may look intimidating, but he was the one who pushed for this marriage. He believes you’re exactly what Damien needs—and when my Dad sets his mind on something, he doesn’t back down.”

I swallowed hard. “So… he actually approves of me?”

Her lips curved into a smile, half teasing, half sincere. “Approves? Elena, he picked you. That means you’re already ahead of half the people in his circle. My dad doesn’t gamble with our family’s name. If you’re here, it’s because he trusts you’ll stand your ground.”

Her gaze softened, and for the first time that day, I felt a flicker of courage. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t walking into the lion’s den unarmed.

That evening, I stood in front of the mirror in the guest room, smoothing down the simple dress Isabel had lent me. My stomach twisted with nerves when I heard a car pull up outside.

“He’s here,” Isabel said from the hallway, her heels clicking on the floor. She peeked in, gave me a smile, and linked her arm with mine. “Come on. Let’s not keep dad waiting.”

When we walked into the dining room, the air suddenly felt heavier.

Mr. Miranda sat at the head of the long wooden table. He was tall and broad, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly combed, and his sharp eyes seemed to notice everything.

Damien was already there, leaning back in his seat, looking bored. He didn’t even glance at me.

“Good evening, dad.” Damien said flatly.

“Good evening, Damien.” Victor’s voice was calm but strong. Then his eyes turned to me. “And also to you, Elena.”

I nodded quickly and gave a polite smile. “Good evening, Mr.Miranda--”

“You can call me dad,” he corrected. “You’re family now. No need for titles.”

He motioned to the chair beside Isabel. “Sit.”

Dinner began quietly, the sound of silverware clinking against plates echoing in the heavy silence. I sat beside Isabel, thankful for her presence, while Damien leaned back in his chair, swirling his wine with an expression of pure boredom.

Mr. Miranda finally broke the silence. His deep voice carried authority that made my chest tighten.

“So,” he said, his sharp eyes moving between us. “How is married life treating you both?”

Damien smirked faintly, not even sparing me a glance. “You mean the marriage you forced on us?”

Mr. Miranda brows furrowed. “Answer the question.”

Damien leaned lazily back, his tone laced with sarcasm. “It’s fine. We’re surviving.”

I shifted in my seat, my hands twisting in my lap. The word surviving cut deep, though I stayed quiet.

Mr. Miranda attention turned to me. “And you, Elena? How do you find living with my son?”

I swallowed, forcing a small smile. “It’s… an adjustment. But I’m trying my best.”

Before Mr. Miranda could speak, Isabel leaned forward, her tone light but her words sharp. “Trying? She’s doing more than trying, dad. Elena is holding this house together while Damien treats it like a hotel.”

Damien’s eyes narrowed. “Isabel—”

“No, don’t start,” Isabel cut in, her tone firm but steady. “She’s here, trying to make this work, while you treat her like she doesn’t exist. Do you have any idea how cruel that is?”

Damien’s jaw tightened. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand more than you think,” Isabel interrupted. “I had an arranged marriage too, remember? And I hated my husband at first. But do you know what changed things? Respect. The moment we started treating each other with even a little kindness, everything else followed.”

Damien let out a short, cold laugh. “You think it’s that simple?”

“It is,” Isabel shot back, her voice like steel. “But only if you’re not too proud to try. Elena doesn’t deserve this cold treatment. Forced or not, she’s your wife. She deserves at least your respect, Damien.”

Their dad slammed his fork down, his voice cutting through the tension. “She’s right. You may resent the circumstances, Damien, but this woman is your wife. She deserves your respect.”

“She’s nothing to me,” Damien said coldly. His tone was like a blade, sharp and merciless. “You want a picture-perfect marriage? Fine. But don’t expect me to play the loving husband. I’ll live how I want, and no one—not even Elena—can stop me.”

The words hit like a slap. My throat tightened, but I held my head high, refusing to let the tears fall in front of them.

Mr. Miranda eyes burned into his son. “You think sleeping around while your wife suffers alone is what a man does? I raised you better than this.”

Damien didn’t answer, only set his wine glass down a little too firmly.

Isabel reached under the table, squeezing my hand gently. Her voice softened, but she didn’t back down. “Elena’s stronger than you realize, Damien. And one day, you might regret underestimating her.”

Damien’s eyes shifted to her, and though his jaw clenched, he didn’t snap back. He respected her too much to cross the line. “Stay out of this, Isabel,” he said again, his tone lower this time.

She smirked knowingly. “You can ignore me all you want, little brother. But deep down, you know I’m right.”

Mr. Miranda leaned back, his sharp gaze settling on me. “Elena, remember this—you are part of this family now. Don’t let anyone make you feel otherwise. Not even Damien.”

I gave a faint nod, whispering, “Thank you.”

Dinner ended in tense silence. When Mr Miranda and Isabel finally left, I began clearing the plates, my chest heavy with the weight of everything that had been said.

Damien’s footsteps echoed behind me. I froze, my hand tightening around a plate.

“You think just because my father and sister took your side, you’ve won something?” His voice was low, dangerous.

I turned slowly, meeting his cold gaze.

He stepped closer, his eyes burning into mine. “You may be wearing my ring, but don’t ever forget—you have no right in this house. No right in my life.”

For the first time since I entered this house, I realized I wasn’t just living with a cold man.

I was living with a man who could destroy me without even trying.