The door creaked open slowly, sending a shiver down Bella's spine. The air in the room suddenly turned ice-cold. The sound of black shoes stepped in, heavy and slow. His breathing was deep. Ragged. Haunting.
Bella froze at the corner of the bed, trembling in the thin gown she had been forced to wear. Her eyes locked onto the tall figure now standing before her. His eyes looked at her the way a starving predator stares at helpless prey.
"Look at me," Edward whispered. His voice was flat, but it cut like a blade.
Bella shook her head weakly. "Please… not tonight… I'm begging you…"
Edward stepped closer, grabbed her chin, and forced her face up to his. "You think I spent a billion dollars to hear the word 'no'? You think you have a say in this place?"
One by one, he began unbuttoning his shirt without taking his eyes off her. His gaze held nothing of a husband's warmth. It was the gaze of an owner claiming his purchased property.
Bella backed toward the edge of the bed, but there was nowhere else to go.
"I'm not yours…" she sobbed.
"But your stepfather's signature says otherwise. You are mine. Entirely," Edward whispered into her ear, cold and lethal.
He yanked her gown roughly, the sound of tearing fabric echoing like the shattering of a girl's last defense. Bella hugged herself tightly, her body shaking violently.
"I'm begging you…" she whimpered.
But Edward no longer heard her. He was lost in a world of his own making, one where only power and desire ruled.
Bella was pinned down. Her arms trapped. Her body engulfed by shadows of dominance that gave her no choice but silence.
Her sobs were strangled.
Her hands gripped the sheets.
Her soul was trapped.
Time stood still.
"Ohh... Ahhhh... Yes!! Baby!! Stay with me like this. You're worth every cent I paid. Your body feels incredible!"
Edward's moans filled the room, deaf to Bella's silent, endless tears. She cried brokenly, her voice lost in grief.
"Ohh… Yess…!!" A long groan escaped his lips as he reached his peak.
No one knew how long time passed.
Eventually, Edward lay beside her, his breath calm, like someone proud of what he'd just accomplished.
And when his eyes landed on the crimson stain beneath her body, a satisfied smirk played across his handsome yet arrogant face.
But for Bella, that night was death in the shell of the living.
She said nothing. Just stared blankly at the ceiling.
Her body still trembled.
Her tears had run dry.
But the wound in her chest… was only just beginning to bleed.
Edward pulled her into his arms from behind, his lips brushing against her neck, his breath heavy once more.
"Don't even think of running away from me, darling," he murmured, the softness of his tone laced with a veiled threat. "Because if you run… I'll find you. Wherever you are. And next time… I won't be as gentle as I was tonight."
***
"Dad… I can't believe that stupid girl could make this much money for us."
Freya's voice was laced with both admiration and disgust.
Charles's once gloomy face lit up. He handed his phone to his daughter. On the screen, the amount $10,000 was clearly displayed, along with the sender's name: John D. Peterson.
"It's only been a week since she became Mr. Edward's property, and look at this," Charles chuckled, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. "John said Mr. Edward is very satisfied. Apparently, he prefers someone who's… never been touched."
Freya raised an eyebrow cynically. "I guess we really were fools to let her stay in this house. Turns out her flesh is far too expensive for our kitchen, huh, Dad?"
"And now," Charles grinned, "Mr. Edward said my debt is cleared. But in return, he doesn't want us to mention the contract anymore. He said Bella belongs to him now. Completely. With no time limit."
Freya laughed. "So that means that stupid girl is never coming back, right?"
Charles nodded. "And we no longer have to feed that trash."
***
On the other side of the city, Bella stood motionless, her eyes fixed on the tall window of the iron-walled room where she'd been locked away.
Day seven.
Seven days since she was brought to Edward's house.
Seven days since her old world was buried alive.
But this morning felt different.
Something clutched at her chest, tighter, crueler than before.
Then she heard it, voices from the corridor, the careless chatter of passing maids.
"…word is, the girl's family got a bonus. Because she was still a virgin."
"Oh God… what kind of world is this…"
Bella froze.
Her breath caught.
Her hands trembled, struggling to contain the surge of nausea clawing at her chest.
So even my dignity…
had a price?
She lowered her head, fists clenched at her sides.
Something shattered quietly inside her soul.
That evening, Edward arrived with his usual expressionless smile.
"You'll be coming with me tonight. There's a party," he said, adjusting the cuff of his luxury watch.
"And everyone wants to see… my lucky charm."
Bella didn't turn to him. Her gaze stayed locked on the window.
"Are you happy, Mr. Edward?" she asked softly.
"What a stupid question," he replied, combing back his hair.
"I got you, and my business tripled. Of course I'm happy."
Bella nodded faintly. Then turned around.
Her face was calm. Far too calm.
"But I'm not," she said, her voice flat, sharp, like broken glass.
Edward stared, a flicker of confusion creasing his brow. But before he could step closer, Bella had already moved, fast, toward the vanity. She grabbed a heavy perfume bottle…
…and hurled it straight at the mirror behind him.
"Let me go! I'm not yours, Mr. Edward!"
Her voice shattered the silence of the mansion. No more soft sobs.
Only rage now, raw and searing, rising from the deepest wound.
Her eyes no longer trembled.
They burned. With defiance. With dignity long trampled.
Edward stood still, eyes scanning the broken glass strewn across the floor.
His breath came slow, deliberate.
Not from fear. But from the fire he was trying to contain.
He moved.
One step.
Then another.
And a third.
A smile still carved into his lips. A smile that looked more demon than man.
Then came the slap, swift and brutal.
Bella staggered, falling hard onto the cold marble floor.
Edward didn't stop.
He pulled the belt from his waist, not to straighten it, but to hurt.
The sound of leather cutting through the air was followed by the crack of impact.
Once.
Twice.
Again and again.
But Bella didn't scream.
She didn't beg.
She bled. She trembled. But her eyes, those eyes, stared right back at him.
"Just kill me, Mr Edward!" she shouted, voice broken but resolute.
"It'd be better than being treated like something already dead!"
Edward paused.
He looked down at her, not with pity, but with cold calculation.
As if weighing something far more sinister than death.
A slow, terrifying smile crept back across his face.
"Kill you?" he whispered.
"No, Bella…
You're far too valuable to die."
***