The Billionaire's Forced Bride

A Penthouse and a Prison

Chapter 12

A Penthouse and a Prison

Amara’s POV

The Kane penthouse was nothing short of breathtaking. The floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the glittering city skyline, and the marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers. Everything screamed wealth and power, but to me, it felt like a gilded cage.

Damian’s staff had been quick to settle me into the guest bedroom, a spacious suite bigger than my parents' entire living room. They had brought in fresh linens, stocked the closet with designer maternity clothes, and left an assortment of snacks on the nightstand. For a moment, I just stood there, speechless.

I didn’t belong here. I would never level up to their standard.

The door behind me swung open, and I turned to see Damian leaning casually against the frame. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his dark eyes scanned the room before settling on me. It was the most embarrassing moment for me, as I could sense him undressing me with his eyes.

"Is everything to your liking?" he asked, his voice calm but distant. How can someone be so caring, but yet distant at the same time?

I crossed my arms, trying to cover my discomfort. "It's fine. But I didn’t agree to this, Damian. You can’t just decide where I live. I would be needing a break to figure my life out."

He stepped into the room, his movements deliberate. "You’re carrying my child, Amara. That means you stay here where I can ensure your safety."

"I didn’t ask for your protection," I shot back. "I can take care of myself."

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. "Can you? Because from where I’m standing, your options are limited. Or would you prefer to go back to Victor? Or to your deranged family that never wanted you even a mile close to them?"

His words hit a nerve, and I turned away, pretending to adjust the pillows on the bed. "Victor isn’t the issue here, neither is my family. This is about you trying to control me. You are even worst than them, doing all you could to ensure I remain powerless under you."

"Control?" His tone hardened, and I felt him step closer. "If I wanted control, Amara, you wouldn’t even have a choice in this arrangement. Be grateful I’m giving you some freedom."

"Freedom?" I laughed bitterly, turning to face him. "You’re dictating where I live, who I see, and probably what I eat next. That’s not freedom, Damian."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "This is for the baby. Not for you, not for me. If you can’t see that, then maybe you’re not ready to be a mother."

His words stung, and for a moment, I was speechless. Damian’s cold demeanor was infuriating, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else...concern? Guilt? I couldn’t tell.

Finally, I found my voice. "I may not have planned for this baby, Damian, but I’m doing my best. I don’t need your lectures, and I certainly don’t need your pity. I have always survived without you, and would even do a better job without you or my family in the picture."

He sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "This isn’t pity. It’s responsibility. And whether you like it or not, we’re in this together now."

The weight of his words settled over me, and I sank onto the edge of the bed, suddenly exhausted. "I just wanted a normal life," I murmured more to myself. "I'm not asking for your head, all I want is my freedom. People may be thinking that I'm enjoying here, that you are doing me a favor, not knowing that I've become a victim."

Damian’s expression softened briefly, but it was gone in an instant. "Normal doesn’t exist in my world, Amara. You’ll learn that soon enough."

Without another word, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the cavernous room.

The next morning, I woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Great. I made my way to the kitchen, where Damian was sitting at the island, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I entered, his gaze briefly scanning my unkept appearance.

"You should eat," he said, nodding toward the breakfast spread on the counter.

"I’m not hungry," I replied, pouring myself a glass of water.

"You’ll eat," he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I rolled my eyes but grabbed a croissant, nibbling on it to avoid another lecture.

As I sat across from him, I decided to voice the thoughts swirling in my mind. "What happens after the baby is born, Damian? Do you plan on keeping me here forever?"

He set his phone down, his expression unreadable. "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"That’s not an answer," I pressed.

"It’s the only answer you’re getting right now," he said, his tone final.

I clenched my fists under the table, frustration visible to the surface. "You can’t keep shutting me out, Damian. This is my life too."

His gaze darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might lose it. But instead, he leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve.

"You’re stronger than you look," he said finally.

The unexpected compliment caught me off guard. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he said, standing and grabbing his suit jacket, "you might actually survive this."

And with that cryptic remark, he walked out, leaving me more confused than ever.

That evening, I wandered out to the balcony, needing fresh air. The city lights twinkled below, a stark contrast to the chaos inside my head.

I wanted to believe I could make this work...for the baby, if nothing else. But Damian’s hot-and-cold attitude made it nearly impossible to trust him. One moment he was kind, almost gentle, and the next, he was as unyielding as steel.

As I stood there, the wind tugging at my hair, I whispered to myself, "What have I gotten myself into?"

I didn’t have an answer. Not yet. But I knew one thing for sure: life with Damian Kane was going to be anything but ordinary. Will I ever summon the courage to bolt out of his life or remain caged forever?