Elena's POV
As soon as I left the dining table, I went to the bedroom to sleep, I slept for a very long time. I was awoken by a knock on the door by the butler. I lazily went to open the door. "Ma'am you did not come downstairs for lunch and Mr Justin is calling you downstairs", the butler said. " Ohh, I'll be right there", I replied and shut the door .I checked the time and it was 6:25pm, I really slept for a long time. This has been my daily schedule since I have nothing to do.
I washed my face, sprayed some perfume and went downstairs.
I went to the living room where Justin was seated, he saw me and nodded, didn't greet and I did not too . He handed me something and I wondered what it was.
Justin handed me the phone with the same cold detachment I had come to expect from him. It was brand new sleek, thin, the latest model of the iPhone 16,as I held it, I felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.
"Here," he said, his voice flat and devoid of any warmth. "You must have sunk enough by now. We need to act like a couple in love. Nobody must suspect a thing not my investors, not your father who knows about it,not the press. This arrangement stays between us."
I stared at the phone in my hand. My fingers trembled around the glassy surface, and I could see my reflection in its black screen,empty, hollow. My hair was a mess from sleep, my eyes red from crying previously .And he,he looked so calm, like a general laying out battle plans.
My voice felt like it belonged to someone else when I finally spoke. "Right," I murmured. "For the investors. And the press."
He nodded once, as if I'd just signed my life away in blood. "You understand. Play the part, Elena. Smile when you need to, hold my hand when cameras are around, and look at me like I'm the man of your dreams. You'll get used to it. This is business, after all." He turned, his expensive shoes tapping lightly against the marble floor as he headed toward the door.
"And, Elena,"he paused, his back still turned to me. "Don't forget who's holding the strings here."
With that, he was gone, leaving me with the brand-new phone that felt like both a lifeline and a leash.
When I got back to my room, I sank onto the bed. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely grip the phone, but I managed to power it on. A bright screen flared to life empty, save for his contact information already programmed in, a single cold message from him: Use this number for communication with me only. I don't need you wandering off.
I laughed a short, sharp, humorless sound that sounded like it came from a stranger. I was beginning to realize I was a stranger now. A pawn. A prize. Not Elena Clark, the girl who used to dream of traveling the world and falling in love no, I was a prisoner, trapped in a cage lined with gold.
A knock on the door startled me. I half-expected Justin to walk back in, but it was only the butler, Mr. Grayson. He carried a tray of steaming tea and placed it carefully on the small table by the window.
"Your tea, Miss," he said politely. His eyes lingered on me, sympathy flickering across his face for just a moment before it vanished. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you," I whispered. But what could I ask for? Freedom? A way out of this nightmare? The butler gave me a small nod and left.
I looked at the phone again, its blank screen staring back at me. My own face was reflected in it: pale, drawn, unfamiliar. I didn't recognize the woman looking back at me. She had dark circles under her eyes and a haunted look that even the best makeup couldn't hide.
I curled my knees to my chest, hugging them tightly. Tears blurred my vision as I tried to piece together the fragments of my life my father's betrayal, Justin's cold demands, the contract that had bound me tighter than any chains. I had no one to turn to. No one to trust. Even my own father had sold me like an object.
The tears came harder then, hot and relentless, and I buried my face in the pillow to stifle the sobs. The luxurious room around me blurred a gilded prison that smelled like lavender and betrayal.
Eventually, exhausted, I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke, morning light streamed in through the tall windows, illuminating the room in a harsh, unkind glow. I sat up slowly, my body still heavy with the remnants of last night's crying. My eyes felt puffy and raw. I wiped at them, trying to steel myself for what lay ahead.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was almost time for breakfast. I knew Justin would be expecting me downstairs. My heart sank at the thought of facing him again the man who held my freedom, who dictated the terms of my existence. I had no choice but to face him. That was the reality now.
I stood and forced myself to the mirror. My hair was a mess, so I quickly combed it into some semblance of order. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would erase the traces of my tears. It didn't. The dark circles were still there, mocking me. I considered skipping breakfast maybe that would show him I wasn't his puppet but deep down, I knew it wouldn't make a difference. He'd just force me to eat anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I left the room.
The hallway was eerily quiet as I made my way downstairs. The air felt charged, like a storm was brewing. My stomach twisted as I approached the dining room. Justin was already there, seated at the head of the table like a king in his castle. His posture was impeccable, his dark suit crisp and expensive. He didn't look up as I entered. Instead, he flipped through some papers with an expression that said I was the least of his concerns.
I stood there, hesitating for a moment. My knees felt weak, but I forced myself to put on the mask he demanded. "Good morning," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "Hello, darling."
His head snapped up, and for a moment—just a flicker—I saw surprise in his cold eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that calculating, unreadable stare. He set the papers down with a soft thud and regarded me as if I were an interesting puzzle he was trying to solve.
"Darling, is it?" he said, his lips curving into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Playing the part already? Impressive."
I held his gaze, refusing to look away even as my heart hammered against my ribs. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?" I said, my voice calm, even though I felt anything but. "An obedient wife who knows her role."
He leaned back in his chair, studying me like I was some curious specimen. "Yes," he said finally. "That's exactly what I wanted. And I appreciate your enthusiasm."
His words made me want to scream, but I bit down on my anger. I couldn't show weakness now. I couldn't let him see how much this was breaking me inside. I had to survive this, and the only way to do that was to play the part he wanted. The perfect, obedient wife. The pawn who smiled on command.
"Come," he said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Sit. We have much to discuss."
I obeyed, sinking into the plush chair as a maid appeared with a plate of breakfast—perfectly arranged fruit, eggs, and toast. I had no appetite, but I forced myself to take a bite, hoping it would give me some strength.
Justin watched me with that same cold, assessing gaze. "We're getting married soon," he said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if we were discussing the weather. "You'll need to prepare yourself. There will be interviews, photos, public appearances. You'll smile. You'll laugh. You'll hold my hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. And you'll make everyone believe this is real."
His words felt like a knife twisting in my gut. "And if I refuse?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "You won't," he said simply. "Because you know what's at stake."
My jaw tightened. "You mean my father's company," I said bitterly.
His eyes hardened. "And your freedom. You'd do well to remember that."
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I wanted to fight him. I wanted to scream. But instead, I lowered my eyes and forced myself to nod.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with steel. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He flipped it open, revealing a diamond ring that sparkled in the morning light. "Wear this. We have an image to uphold."
He slid the ring across the table, and I picked it up with trembling fingers. The stone was enormous, and I wondered if it weighed as much as my new reality. I slipped it onto my finger and stared at it, the cold metal pressing into my skin like a brand.
"That's better," he said. "Now, finish your breakfast. We have a lot of work to do."
He stood and walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The ring on my finger felt like a shackle, binding me to a fate I never chose. I stared at the food on my plate, but it tasted like ashes in my mouth.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. But in that moment, all I could do was play the role he demanded.
Because that was the only way to survive.
I have to accept this role.