The Million Dollar Misery

No Way Out

I don't recall closing the door. I'm standing there, looking at the man with the picture, and the next thing I know, I'm back to being alone. The quiet is more profound now. He didn't have to say anything more. He didn't have to threaten me. The one word in the picture was sufficient.

Owner.

My fingers clench the picture so that the edges bite into my skin. I look at it again, hoping it was a figment of my imagination, hoping my mind made something up. It is still there, however.

Silas is the centre of the city, and everything is his. The glass towers. The lights. The people. His suit is a perfect fit. His face is calm. Cold. Untouchable. There's no one like the boy I remember. But still… It's still him.

My chest hurts in a way I don't want to know.

I place the picture on the table as if it were on fire.

No way out.

The words echo in my mind, louder and louder, over and over. Because now I know. This isn’t just about money. This isn’t just about debt. This is a different thing. Something bigger. I walked through that door, and I was in it.

I begin to move without considering it. Walk back and forth throughout the apartment. Now the space is smaller. The walls are closing. The air tighter. Each step reverberates as a reminder: I waited too long. I ran out of time.

I see the tightly packed bag by the door. It doesn't look right in there. It's like it's from a person who still has options.

I don’t.

I stop pacing and press my hands to the table to steady myself. Think. Just think. I must have missed something. Some detail. There's something to be done about that.

But all thoughts return to the same point.

The card.

The auction.

Silas.

His name makes my stomach turn.

I pick up the black card again. It feels heavier now, as if it knows more than I do. The address is staring back at me. Clean. Simple. Final.

Why him?

Before I can stop it, the question slips in. Out of all the people in the world… why Silas?

Because he remembers.

The idea strikes quickly. Sharp.

He hates you,

I shake my head, but it doesn't go away. It settles deeper, however.

Ten years ago, I left without saying anything. I allowed him to think the worst. I let him think that I picked a better life than him. That I didn’t care.

Perhaps this is his solution.

Perhaps that's what revenge is when you can afford it.

I can barely suppress a snort of laughter, but it never comes out. There’s nothing funny about this. Not anymore.

I go to the window and gaze out at the city. The tall buildings reach into the sky, like something untouchable. People move below, small and distant, living their lives like nothing is wrong.

To them, nothing is.

To me, all things are.

I lean my forehead against the glass, letting it cool me down.

This is his world today.

The fast pace. The power. The control.

Urban and endless.

And I'm going to step right into it.

A young girl from a small town who believed she could outrun her past.

I close my eyes.

I recall dusty roads, warm nights, and laughter that wasn't forced. I recall him, before the suits, before the money, before the cold look in his eyes.

In the days of yore.

When love was not a weapon.

My chest clenches once more.

That world is gone.

This one is not forgiving of errors.

I'm jolted out of my reverie by a piercing buzz. My cell phone flashes again on the table. Another message. Another reminder.

I walk over slowly, as if I know what it says.

Unknown Number.

Of course.

I open it.

Car will be here at 7 PM, so be prepared.

No greeting. No explanation.

Just another order.

I clench my fist around the phone.

Workplace. That’s what they called it. An arrangement. A role. A simple and clean thing. However, there is nothing easy about this. This is not work at all.

It is like a snare in fancy language.

I glance at the photo again. At Silas. He holds the same black card as if it has more significance.

Like it means me.

A slow, uncomfortable heat curls in my chest, surprising me. Not fear. Not exactly. Something sharper. Something more confusing.

There's something else under the anger, under the fear.

A thing I don't want to mention.

The recollection of his gaze on me. His voice used to falter when he called my name. Everything was warmer when he was near.

I shake it off immediately.

That's not the guy I know.

That guy in that picture wouldn't look at me like that.

He would look at me as if he owned me.

I pause slightly at the thought.

Not fear.

Something else.

Something dangerous.

I move away from the table, separating myself from him, the card, the truth I don't want to see.

Distance makes no difference, though.

7 PM is coming.

And when it does…

I will not be going into the unknown.

I’ll be walking straight into him.

My hands clench into fists as the full impact of it sinks in. Heavy. Unavoidable.

No more time.

No more running.

I can't pretend anymore that I can get away from this.

Because this isn’t just a debt anymore.

It’s personal.

As I gaze at his name again, a cold, sure thing forms inside me.

If Silas Vane really bought me for revenge…

Then he already knows what he's going to do to me.

The only thing I don't know…

This is how far he’s willing to go.