Bound to the billionaire

The ring

Amira pov

I woke up to the faint slant of morning light creeping through the curtains, streaks of gold and gray mixing across the room. For a long moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, my chest rising and falling slowly, as if I could pretend the world wasn’t waiting for me outside. Yesterday had been strangely quiet but today I felt restless, like I needed to move, to do something normal. Work. Yes, I would go to work.

That decision alone made my stomach twist. My gaze shifted to the nightstand where my diamond wedding ring glittered faintly. It was beautiful, undeniably so, yet heavy on my hand. It didn’t feel like mine. Not really. It was more like a badge I was forced to wear, one that whispered to the world that I belonged to someone I barely knew.

With a sigh, I slid the ring off my finger and placed it carefully in the small velvet box on the table. I wasn’t ready for the stares, the questions, the whispers my coworkers would surely have if they saw it. Let them see me as I was before. Just Amira.

I pulled myself out of bed, showered quickly, and dressed in one of my simple work outfits a pale blue blouse tucked into a black skirt. It wasn’t designer. It wasn’t glamorous. But it was comfortable, and it was me. I brushed my hair down, tied it neatly, and glanced at the time. I didn’t want to run late.

As I descended the wide staircase of Damien’s villa, the faint sound of footsteps echoed in the hall. He appeared at the bottom of the stairs, dressed sharply in a dark suit that probably cost more than all my clothes combined. He looked like he’d stepped straight out of a glossy magazine polished, serious, untouchable.

His eyes flicked to me instantly, sharp and assessing, and the first words out of his mouth made my stomach clench.

“Where is your ring?”

I froze halfway down the stairs. My hand instinctively moved to my bare finger, betraying me. I had known he would notice eventually, but I hadn’t expected him to notice so quickly. “I… left it upstairs,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady.

His brow arched, his gaze hardening. “Left it upstairs?” he repeated, his tone low and disapproving. “Do you understand what that ring represents?”

Heat rose in my cheeks. “It’s not that,” I said quickly, moving down the last few steps. “I just… I didn’t want people at work to start gossiping or asking questions I’m not ready to answer.”

“Work?” His voice snapped like a whip, his eyes narrowing. “You’re going to work?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes. I can’t just stay here, Damien. I need to do something with myself. I need to—”

“No.” His tone was final, his jaw tightening. “You are not allowed to work.”

The words slammed into me. My chest tightened, and my hands balled into fists. “Not allowed?” I repeated, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He stepped closer, his height suddenly overwhelming, his presence suffocating. “Did you even read the contract you signed, Amira? It clearly states that for one year, you are not to work. No distractions. No unnecessary exposure. You’re supposed to stay here and fulfill the role you agreed to.”

My lips parted, but no words came out at first. My mind spun, my throat thick. I had read the contract… but I hadn’t realized it would feel this way, like chains tightening around me.

“I…” I began, my voice cracking. “I can’t just sit here like a prisoner. I’m not… I’m not built that way.”

His gaze sharpened, and he tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite figure out. “This isn’t about being a prisoner,” he said coldly. “This is about discipline. Appearances. My grandmother, the press, society they all expect certain things. And I will not have you undermine that.”

A lump formed in my throat, anger and helplessness colliding in my chest. “And what about you?” I demanded, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. “Where’s your ring?”

For a second, silence stretched between us. His jaw clenched, his eyes darkened, but he didn’t flinch. “My reasons are not up for debate,” he said finally. “You should focus on yourself. And one more thing…” His gaze swept over me, lingering on my outfit. “These clothes…”he gestured with a faint flick of his hand “are not suitable. You’re married to me now. I don’t want to see you wearing things like this again.”

My cheeks burned with humiliation. “What’s wrong with my clothes?” I asked, even though I already knew what he’d say.

“They’re plain,” he said bluntly. “Too ordinary. From now on, you’ll go shopping. Buy something appropriate. The driver will take you.”

The sting of his words settled deep inside me. My clothes, my ring, my job every piece of me seemed to be up for criticism. I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to let tears spill. “I’m going to see my mother,” I said quietly, trying to salvage some piece of control.

He stared at me for a moment, his jaw tight, but finally nodded curtly. “Fine. But after that, you shop.” He brushed past me, his cologne lingering in the air like an aftertaste, leaving me standing there, breathless and shaken.

By the time I reached the hospital, the tightness in my chest had loosened slightly. Here, everything felt slower, gentler. The sterile smell, the faint beeping of machines, the quiet footsteps of nurses it was all familiar.

When I stepped into my mother’s room, her face lit up weakly, her lips curving into a smile that made my heart ache. “Amira,” she whispered, her voice hoarse but warm.

I hurried to her side, setting down the small bag of food I’d brought. “Mama, how are you feeling?”

She reached for my hand, her skin cool but soft. “Better, now that you’re here.”

I sat with her, spooning small bites of soup to her lips, wiping gently at the corners of her mouth, listening as she spoke in short, careful sentences. She asked about me, about my day, about things I didn’t want to answer, so I kept my responses vague. All I wanted was to soak in her presence, her voice, her laugh, even faint as it was.

For an hour, maybe two, I stayed there, just holding her hand, humming softly, pretending that the outside world didn’t exist.

But eventually, I had to leave. I kissed her forehead, promised to return soon, and walked out with my chest heavier than when I arrived.

The driver dropped me at the mall next. Rows of shops gleamed under bright lights, mannequins draped in clothes I’d never imagined wearing staring at me through glass windows. I picked a few modest dresses, shoes, and accessories, trying not to feel like I was changing into someone I didn’t recognize.

As I turned a corner, a burst of laughter caught my attention. My steps faltered, my gaze locking onto a sight that made my stomach flip.

Daniel

He was walking hand in hand with a woman, that looked really familiar, I remember she was the one with Damien at bloom cafe that day.

I blinked, my throat dry, my heart thudding loudly in my chest. Daniel Maya’s Daniel. The same Daniel who had broken my best friend’s heart.

And the girl I’d once seen with Damien at the café, laughing like she belonged in his world.

My chest tightened as I took in the sight of them together, their fingers intertwined, their smiles easy, careless. The realization crashed over me like a wave she was the girl Daniel had left Maya for.

I stood there frozen, hidden in plain sight, my shopping bags clutched tightly in my hands. And for the first time in a long while, I felt the shadows of other people’s choices pressing in on my own.