The Billionaire’s Prison: A Fight for Freedom

The unfamiliar scent of aftershave and sweat hit Emily before the memories did. Emily woke up to a different environment—the smell of the room, which she was definitely not familiar with. The paintings on the walls and the color of the bedsheets weren't hers. This wasn't her bed; her hand brushed against a bare arm, a warmth that wasn’t Peter’s; she panicked, trying to remember what had happened. The memories from the previous night were gradually coming together. Connor, the drink, the kiss, and the moment shared—the passion she couldn't stop—the memories were clear to her now. She turned over to the other side of the bed and noticed Connor lying beside her, fast asleep. The bedsheet had slipped away, showing his inviting chiseled abs. “Oh my God, what just happened? What have I done?” Emily whispered with fear in her tone. How could she have let this happen? Her mind was racing with guilt. Even though, for the first time in years after her marriage, she felt alive. But it didn't change the fact that she has betrayed Peter, her husband, and worse of it, she has betrayed herself. “Hope this doesn't affect the years of sacrifice for Peter and for my family. Does this make me a bad person? Or was I already broken long before I met Connor again?” Emily muttered to herself. “My phone, where is my phone?” Emily remembered as she reached out to get her phone. She didn’t spend the night at home and also never told Peter anything about spending the night outside. He would have been worried. “Oh, there it is,” she whispered as she quickly slid her phone open. 18 missed calls and a voicemail. Emily’s heart was racing fast, sweats dripping down from her palm as she quickly played the voicemail. “Emily, where are you? I know we had an argument, but I am still your husband. You can’t ignore my calls and yet don't come back home. Don't you think I would be worried? Call me.” “s**t, s**t,” Emily muttered with worry in her tone; she immediately slipped quietly out of bed and dressed up. She needed to leave before Connor woke up; she couldn’t face him, not now, considering she had no idea what she should be expecting at home. Just as she was about to open the door, thought clouded her mind. This wasn’t the Emily she knew, the good girl that never took a risk, that girl that did what was always expected of her, but look at her now cheating on her husband, something she would never have thought to be possible due to her fear for him. But then she remembered, “I was never that in love with him; I married him for them. I sacrificed my life to save my family.” “How did I get to this point in the first place?” She muttered, her voice trembling and barely audible. —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- FLASH FORWARD TO 12 HRS EARLIER —------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Peter, we need to talk.” Emily followed her husband behind after welcoming him back from work. Peter, on the other hand, kept his pace, not minding what Emily had to say. He ignored her as usual; he was always busy noticing her, only when he wanted to satisfy his s****l desires. “Peter!” she shouted this time; her voice echoed loudly as she stood in the spacious living room of their mansion. She placed her hand on her forehead, showing the frustration of not being attended to. Peter paused a second and turned to look at Emily; she should know by now he didn't have time for chitchats. “What, Emily? What is it? You can see I'm just getting back from work, and I am tired. Moreover, I have a meeting in ten minutes. Can you just give me a break?” His voice was sharp and cold. "That's the problem," Emily snapped, her eyes burning with anger. She is used to suppressing her emotions and the constant neglect she gets from someone she calls her husband. “You are always so busy with work—work this, work—that you would have at least heard what I have to say. Everything is always more important than us." Peter smiled a sheepish smile as he crossed his arms. "What are you saying, Emily? That I don’t do enough for you? This house, your lifestyle—do you think it just pays for itself?" Emily was heartbroken. All their arguments have always been about money, status, and appearance. "I’m not talking about the house or the money. I’m talking about us. When was the last time we actually talked? When was the last time you even noticed me?" Emily’s voice cracked with emotion, expressing her pain. “Emily, I don't have time for this right now; like I said, I have a virtual meeting I can't be late to. And where are you going to get all dressed up?” He asked, noticing she wasn’t wearing her usual home clothes. She smiled. “So he finally noticed she was dressed, like, How do you survive with a man that barely notices anything about you?” She murmured to herself in disbelief of how she got to this point; she never wished for this. “I believe you don’t care as well, so why bother asking me? Haven’t you really noticed you are so selfish and all you always think of is yourself? You don't want me to work; I barely go out or have friends, and yet you hardly give me attention. What a selfish man you are.” Anger flashed in Peter's eyes, filled by a sharp slap on Emily's face. He tried to slap her again, but this time she went down on her knees, using her hand to shield her face. “More feelings, Emily? I don't have time for this. You're lucky I put up with you." His words stung more than the slap that came next. “You should learn how to talk to me, or I will teach you myself; everything you have today is because of me. Don’t forget that.” He breathed heavily, responding in a very harsh tone. “Learn to appreciate what and who you have,” Peter said, walking past her, heading towards the bedroom. Emily remained frozen on the floor for a while, tears streaming down her eyes. She immediately whipped her face, preventing it from ruining the make-up she had on. She had thought after marrying Peter her life would be made easy, but she had lost herself along the way. This wasn’t the marriage she had dreamed of—this cold, empty marriage. But what choice did she have? She had to save her family’s legacy. Now she’s stuck. Lost in her painful thoughts, Emily picked up her phone and dialed the number she would always call after something like this happened. “Mom,” Emily called out immediately her mother picked up the call; her voice broke down, followed by tears as soon as her mother answered. “Emily? What's wrong?” Mrs. Williams could feel the pain in her daughter's voice. “It happened again, mom; he hit me again.” She whispered, her body shaking. “I… I can't do this anymore.” “Hmm,” Mrs. Williams sighed at the other end of the line. She knew Emily was going through pain, but at the same time all she could offer her daughter was some words of encouragement. “Emily, you know how things are now. I believe Peter is under a lot of work stress now. He is the reason we are not living out there on the street right now. You have to endure for a while, baby. He’s going to change over time.” Emily's heart sank; all her mom could say was to endure it. If only she knew what she had been going through, she would understand her properly. “But, Mom,” Emily began, but her mother cut her off before she could continue. “You married him for a reason, Emily. Don’t forget what he’s done for us. You owe him. Just… just be a good wife. Everything will work out.” With tears rolling down her eyes, she immediately hung up the phone, feeling more trapped than ever. Her mother’s words tore deep into her heart; they were no longer comforting but suffocating. Emily immediately picked up her bag and car keys to head out. She was going to go to the art gallery after all; she had hoped to convince Peter to accompany her, but it turned out to be a disaster as he wouldn't even give her a listening ear. Going out now is just the perfect idea for her to have a fresh breath of air from this suffocating lifestyle. As Emily entered the gallery, she felt a sudden stillness. The gentle music and quiet chatter surrounded her, enveloping her in peace. “Yes, I need just this,” she muttered to herself. In the midst of admiring the painting at the entrance of the gallery, trying to interpret the design, as she felt some sense of peace in her heart, a voice from the past cut through the crowd. "Emily?" She turned, her eyes locking onto the figure before her as she focused her eyes on seeing from above; the face looked familiar. “Connor,” she whispered to herself with a smile on her face. Emily's heart tightened, but surprisingly, it wasn't fear. Seeing Connor's face sparked a long-forgotten feeling within her.