Cynthia’s breath hitched as she opened the door for whoever was knocking by 10pm, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

The dim hallway light spilled onto the frame of a man_ a tall, broad-shouldered figure clad in a crisp black suit. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his eyes sent a chill down her spine.

“Miss Cynthia Taylor?” His voice was deep and professional.

Her grip on the doorknob tightened. “Who…who are you?”

The man stepped forward, revealing more of his face in the faint light. “I'm Mr Richard's driver. I've been sent to pick you up”.

“Pick me up??” Her stomach twisted. So soon? She had barely processed what she had done, yet here he was, standing in her doorway as if she had summoned him with the stroke of a pen.

“I__” Cynthia hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at her small, cluttered apartment. Everything in here was familiar, safe.

The thought of stepping out into the unknown, into Mike Richard's world, made her legs weak. “It's late…can't this wait until morning?”

The driver's expression didn't waver. “ Mr Richard was very clear. You are to come with me immediately”.

A shiver ran down her spine. Of course, he was. Mike wasn't the kind of man to wait. He had bought her, after all, debt, her freedom, her very life for the next two years. What difference did a few hours make?.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her small suitcase, the one she had hurriedly packed after signing the contract. Clothes, a few personal belongings–nothing that would remind her too much of home. She took a deep breath and turned back to the driver.

“Give me a moment”

She moved robotically, slipping on a hoodie over her tank top. Pulling a pair of worn sneakers. Her heart pounded as she took one last glance at her apartment. Would she ever come back to this life? To who she was before?

“Miss Taylor “ The driver's voice pulled her back. He was patient, but there was an edge to his tone that warned her not to push her luck.

Cynthia inhaled deeply and stepped forward, feeling the weight of her decision settling on her shoulders.

As she followed him out into the darkened street, the city felt quieter than usual. A black sleek limousine was parked outside, its tinted windows reflecting the dim glow of the streetlights.

The driver opened the back door for her.

She hesitated, her feet refusing to move.

She could still run.

She could turn back, lock herself inside her apartment, and pretend none of this ever happened.

But the reality was suffocating. The debts. The threats. The helplessness.

With a final shaky breath, she slid into the car. The door shut behind her with a heavy click, sealing her fate.

The ride was silent, save for the soft hum of the engine. Cynthia clutched the edge of her seat, staring out the window as the city blurred past. Her phone buzzed in her lap.

Ava

She bit her lip, hesitating before rejecting the call. She couldn't hear her best friend's voice, not when she was barely keeping herself together.

Minutes stretched into an eternity before the car pulled up to a towering glass building– the infamous Richard Tower. The sight alone made butterflies fill her tummy.

The driver stepped out first, opening her door.” We've arrived”.

Cynthia swallowed hard and stepped onto the cold pavement, tilting her head up at the sheer height of the building. The place looked like it belonged to a king, and she…she was just a pawn in his game.

Before she could fully process her surroundings, theft, and glass doors swung open.

Two maids came out to carry her luggages…and A man was waiting for her behind them.

Mike Richard.

He stood there, hands in his pockets, a smirk tugging at his lips. The sight of him--tall, confident, exuding power, made her body tense.

“You're late,” he said smoothly, his dark eyes gleaming under the golden chandelier lights.

Cynthia’s fingers curled into a fist. “Your driver just got me”.

He let out a chuckle, slow and mocking. “ Excuses already, sweetheart? You're going to have to do better than that.”

She clenched her jaw, but before she could retort, he gestured for her to follow. “Come. I don't have all night”.

With reluctant steps, she trailed behind him into the elevator. The door slid shut, enclosing them in a tension-filled space. His scent--something dark and intoxicating--wrapped around her, making her stomach tighten.

He didn't speak as the elevator ascended. Neither did she. But she could feel his gaze on her, studying, assessing.

The doors dinged open, revealing the breathtaking penthouse that would be her new place.

Cynthia's breath hitched.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city skyline. Plush leather furniture, sleek marble countertops, and dim golden lighting gave the space a luxurious yet intimidating feel.

It was the exact kind of ace she'd expect from a man like Mike Richard.

He stepped inside, tossing his jacket over the couch, before turning to her. “Welcome home”.

She swallowed hard, standing frozen near the doorway. Home? This was my home. This was a prison dressed in silk and gold.

Mike's eyes flickered with amusement at her hesitation. “You're free to explore, but don't get too comfortable”.

Cynthia frowned. “What's that supposed to mean sir?”

His smirk widened as he leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “It means, sweetheart, that this isn't a fairytale. You're here to play a role. Nothing more”

He tilted his head, voice dropping to something almost predatory. “So I suggest you behave?”

Her heart pounded. The weight of his words wrapped around her like chains.

And just like that, she knew there was no turning back.

Mike steps closer, his gaze darkened. “Go get some rest,” he murmured. “Tomorrow we start acting like husband and wife…and burn those rags you came with. I do not like a dull-looking wife.”

Cynthia swallowed, dread pooling in her stomach.

Tomorrow.