Untitled Episode2
1679 Words
The car rolled through the city like a silent predator, gliding past neighborhoods Isabella had only seen in movies towering buildings, glittering billboards, the blinding glow of New York nightlife that felt a world away from her cracked little window at home. Rain streaked across the tinted glass, blurring her reflection into something ghostly.
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to steady her trembling, but the leather seat beneath her felt too soft, too expensive, too unfamiliar.
The man beside her she still didn’t know his name sat perfectly still. A statue in a suit, hands folded neatly on his lap. He’d said nothing since the moment she’d gotten in, and she wasn’t brave enough to break the silence.
Every time she thought she had collected herself, her father’s broken sobs echoed in her head.
You… sold me.
A fresh wave of pain rose in her throat again. She swallowed hard and blinked up at the car’s ceiling. She needed to hold herself together. Crying would only make her seem weak, and she sensed deeply, instinctively that weakness was the last thing she could afford in Alexander Knight’s world.
The city lights eventually thinned as the car climbed higher, moving into wealthier districts where the buildings stood farther apart, and the roads were quieter. She pressed her forehead to the cool glass, watching sleek apartments flash by.
This is the Upper Crest District, the man finally spoke, his voice smooth and deep. Mr. Knight’s primary residence is ahead.
Primary.
He had more.
Of course he did.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
The car turned down a long private road lined with iron street lamps. At the end stood a tall iron gate black, elegant, but with patterns sharp enough to remind her of traps, of cages.
It slid open automatically.
The mansion beyond it rose like something carved from shadows. Three stories high, its glass walls gleamed under the rain, reflecting sharp angles and cold beauty. Light poured from tall windows, illuminating marble pillars and a courtyard that looked like something plucked from a billionaire’s fantasy because it was.
Isabella’s breath caught.
It didn’t look like a home.
It looked like a throne.
The car slowed as it approached the front steps, where two women in black suits stood waiting under the shelter of the tall entrance. They bowed slightly when the car stopped.
The man opened her door.
Miss Liam, he said. We’ve arrived.
Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else when she stepped out. The cold night air hit her first a sharp contrast to the warmth of the car and then the gravity of where she was sank in.
This was her new world.
She shivered, and one of the women stepped forward.
Welcome, Miss Liam, she said with a polite smile that didn’t touch her eyes. Mr. Knight will see you shortly. Please follow me.
Without waiting for a response, she turned gracefully and walked toward the entrance.
Isabella hesitated.
She could run.
She could bolt into the dark, slippery night and maybe outrun them maybe.
No.
She looked around.
Men stood near the gate. Others by the side paths. More near the cars.
All armed.
All watching.
She forced her feet forward.
Inside, the mansion swallowed her whole with its quiet, expensive air. It smelled faintly of sandalwood and something cooler like winter morning air.
The foyer alone was bigger than her entire apartment. A crystal chandelier hung high above, scattering rainbows across the polished marble floor. Art pieces she didn’t recognize lined the walls, each probably worth more than her parents would ever make in their lifetime.
The woman led her in silence through a long hallway. Their footsteps echoed faintly, emphasizing how empty the place felt. Not warm empty cold empty.
As they passed open doorways, Isabella caught quick glimpses of luxurious rooms: a library with floor to ceiling shelves, a lounge with a waterfall wall, a dining area with a table long enough for twenty people.
But no people.
No family photos.
No signs of life.
Just wealth arranged like a perfect, soulless museum.
The woman finally stopped before a pair of tall ebony doors.
Your room, she said.
My… room?
She opened the door and gestured inside.
The room was breathtaking. A massive bed with white silk sheets. Plush rugs. A wall of windows overlooking the city. A vanity with gold accents. A bathroom doorway showing marble and glass.
It was beautiful and Stunning.
Mr. Knight will join you soon, the woman said. “Please prepare yourself.
Prepare for what? Isabella whispered.
The woman paused. Her expression softened only a fraction.
For whatever he asks.
Her stomach knotted.
With that, the woman turned and left, closing the door behind her.
Isabella stood still for a long moment.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to calm her spiraling thoughts.
She walked to the window, pressing her palm against the cold glass.
New York glittered below alive, bright, oblivious to her nightmare. She could see the tiny streets, cars moving like little colored lights, people rushing under umbrellas.
They were all free.
A sob threatened to escape, but she forced it down. Anything she felt… she had to bury it. She wasn’t safe here. She couldn’t afford weakness.
Not until she understood what this man wanted.A soft click behind her made her spin around.
The door was opening.
Her breath stopped.
He walked in like he owned the air in the room. Like the world revolve around him.
He was taller than she expected broad shouldered, wearing a sharply cut suit that looked like it cost more than their apartment’s rent for a year. His black hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. His jaw was sharp, his skin smooth, his posture straight.
But it was his eyes that froze her.
Ice-blue. Cold. Focused. The kind of eyes that observed everything and cared for nothing.His gaze moved over her slowly, not lingering, just assessing. Calculating.
He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing like a final lock on her freedom.For a moment, he said nothing. Silence filled the room like thick smoke.
Then—
You’re trembling.
His voice was deep, smooth, carrying command more than concern.
Isabella swallowed. I… I’m cold.
You’re lying, he said, almost casually, walking farther into the room. His shoes made no sound on the thick rug.
She stepped back instinctively.
His eyes flicked to her feet. Noticing. Measuring.
You’re afraid, he added.
Wouldn’t you be? she whispered before she could stop herself.
His head tilted slightly, as if she had just done something interesting.
I don’t fear anyone, he said simply.
Most people aren’t you.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. Not warm amused.
He stopped a few feet away from her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne rich, confident, expensive.
Your father told you why you’re here?he asked.
Her throat tightened. Yes.
And you understand the terms?
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. He didn’t give me a choice.
You have a choice now, Alexander said, hands sliding into his pockets. You walk out that door… and your parents die.
Her breath hitched.
He wasn’t threatening her.
He was stating a fact.
And if I stay? she whispered.
Then they live, he said. Comfortably.
The room spun slightly, but she blinked until it steadied.
Alexander studied her again, his gaze slow and unblinking. Sit.
It wasn’t a request.
Her knees felt weak as she lowered herself into the chair near the window.
Alexander remained standing, watching her with unreadable eyes.
I’ve waited years for this, he said softly.
A chill ran down her spine. Why me?
He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he walked to the table and poured himself a glass of water. His movements were precise, almost elegant.
You interest me, he said finally.
Her breath caught. I don’t even know you.
But I know you, he replied, turning to face her. Your school history. Your jobs. Your medical records. Your habits.
Her stomach twisted.
I like knowing what belongs to me.
The words landed like blows.
I don’t belong to you, she whispered fiercely.
Alexander stopped walking.
Slowly, very slowly, he turned to her.
Your father signed a legally binding contract, he said. You belong to me until your debt—his debt—is paid.
She shook her head, tears burning behind her eyes. That’s s*****y.
It’s business, he corrected calmly.
No, she whispered. It’s wrong.
Alexander walked closer, stopping directly in front of her. He crouched down slightly so he was eye-level with her.
Whether it is wrong or not it doesn’t change the fact that this is reality, he said quietly. And reality doesn’t care about fairness, Isabella.
Her name on his lips made her flinch.
He saw it.
His lips curved faintly.
You will stay here, he said. You will keep to my rules and regulations. In return, your family remains safe.
Her voice cracked. And if I don’t?
His expression didn’t change.
Then you will know why people fear me.
A tears slipped down her cheek.
He watched it fall.
But he didn’t wipe it.
Didn’t soften.
Didn’t hesitate.
Rest tonight, he said, straightening. Your new life begins tomorrow.
He turned toward the door.
Alexander…
He paused.
She didn’t know why she said his name. Maybe fear. Maybe desperation. Maybe an instinct to grasp at something human in him.
He didn’t turn around. Yes.
Will you hurt me? she whispered, shaking.
A long silence.
Finally:
It depends on your behavior
Then he walked out.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Isabella pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in her arms. The tears she’d been fighting spilled out, quiet and broken.
In that glass prison, with the city lights glowing
beneath her like stars in a cruel universe, Isabella Liam cried until she fell asleep sitting upright.
And in the hallway outside, unseen behind the door
Alexander Knight stood still.
Watching the door.
Breathing slowly.
Expression unreadable.
Then he walked away.
- Writer
