ISLA'S POV
I woke up not knowing where I was.
The bed was too soft. The sheets too smooth. The room too quiet.
Then memory crashed back: the contract, Damien Cross, my new cage.
I shot up, heart pounding.
Sunlight streamed through floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sprawled below like Damien owned it. Maybe he did.
My phone—still turned off from last night, sat on the nightstand. I pressed the power button.
Seventeen missed calls from Maya. Nine texts.
Where are you? Isla, I'm worried. Please answer me. If you don't respond in an hour, I'm calling the police.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard. I wanted to call her so badly. Tell her everything. Cry to my best friend.
But Rule #4: No contact with previous life without permission.
I turned the phone off again.
A knock on my bedroom door made me jump.
Miss Chen? A woman's voice. May I come in?
Um. Yes?
The door opened. A woman in her fifties entered, wearing a simple uniform. Kind eyes. Professional smile.
I'm Mrs. Lin, the housekeeper. Mr. Cross asked me to help you prepare for tonight's event. She gestured to my closet. Have you chosen a dress yet?
He told me to wear the blue one.
Ah yes. Excellent choice. Mrs. Lin walked to the closet and pulled out a dress that made my breath catch.
It was beautiful. Deep sapphire blue silk that shimmered in the light. Simple but elegant. The kind of dress I'd seen in magazines and never imagined wearing.
It's too expensive, I whispered.
Mr. Cross doesn't do cheap. Mrs. Lin laid the dress on the bed. Shower first. I'll do your hair and makeup after breakfast.
I can do my own—
Mr. Cross's orders, Miss Chen. Her voice was gentle but firm. He wants you perfect tonight.
Perfect. Like a doll he was dressing up.
After she left, I stood under the shower spray until the water ran cold. Trying to wash away the feeling of being owned.
It didn't work.
Breakfast was waiting in the kitchen—eggs, toast, fresh fruit. More food than I'd eaten in a week at my old life.
I forced down three bites before my stomach rebelled.
Not hungry? Damien's voice came from behind me.
I spun around. He stood in the kitchen doorway wearing a suit that probably cost more than my father's entire hospital stay. Looking perfect. Untouchable.
I don't have much appetite, I said carefully.
You need to eat. You're too thin. He poured himself coffee, not looking at me. Tonight, important people will be watching you. Judging me based on your appearance. I need you healthy. Glowing.
I'm not a show dog.
His dark eyes finally met mine. No. You're something I paid fifty million dollars for. Which means you'll do exactly what I say. Including eating breakfast.
The command hung in the air.
I picked up my fork and took another bite, hating him. Hating myself more for obeying.
Good girl, he said, that same mocking praise from last night.
Stop calling me that.
Why? That's what you are when you obey. He sipped his coffee casually. Tonight's gala is important. Stay close to me. Smile when people talk to you. Don't speak unless spoken to. And for god's sake, don't embarrass me.
What if I do?
His smile was cold. Then I'll make a phone call, and your father gets transferred to county care within the hour. Do we understand each other?
My hands clenched into fists under the table. Perfectly.
Excellent. He checked his watch. I have meetings until six. Mrs. Lin will help you prepare. Be ready when I return.
He left without another word.
I sat alone in the expensive kitchen, surrounded by luxury I didn't want, and wondered how I'd survive five years of this.
By seven PM, I didn't recognize myself in the mirror.
Mrs. Lin had worked magic. My hair fell in soft waves. My makeup was subtle but made my eyes look huge. The blue dress fit like it was made for my body.
I looked beautiful. Elegant. Like I belonged in Damien's world.
It was a lie. But a convincing one.
Stunning, Mrs. Lin said with genuine warmth. Mr. Cross will be pleased.
I didn't care about pleasing him. But I cared about my father staying alive.
Damien appeared at exactly seven, wearing a black tuxedo that made him look dangerous and beautiful.
His eyes swept over me, expression unreadable.
Turn around, he ordered.
I swallowed my pride and turned slowly.
Acceptable, he finally said. No compliment. Just cold assessment. Put these on.
He handed me a jewelry box.
Inside were diamond earrings that probably cost more than a car.
I can't wear these. What if I lose them
They're insured. Put them on.
My hands shook as I fastened the earrings. The weight felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.
In the car, Damien stayed silent. His phone buzzed constantly with messages he ignored.
Where are we going? I finally asked.
The Laurent Empire annual charity gala.
Something about that name tickled my memory. Laurent. Why did I know that name?
Before I could place it, we arrived.
The venue was a massive ballroom that made my engagement party look like a backyard barbecue. Crystal chandeliers. Ice sculptures. Women in gowns that cost more than my yearly salary. Men in tuxedos discussing millions like pocket change.
Every eye turned to stare as Damien and I entered.
Who's that with Cross?
Another girlfriend? He goes through them so fast.
Poor thing. She has no idea what she's in for.
The whispers felt like knives.
Damien's hand settled on my lower back, possessive and warm through the thin silk.
Smile, he murmured in my ear. You look like you're attending a funeral.
I forced my lips into something resembling a smile.
We moved through the crowd. Damien greeted people with cold politeness. Introduced me as my companion, Isla Chen.
Not girlfriend. Not date. Companion.
Like a pet.
An older woman in a diamond necklace approached, her smile sharp. Damien Cross. How lovely to see you. Her eyes raked over me with open disdain. And who is this... companion?
Mrs. Park, Damien said neutrally. This is Isla.
How... quaint. Mrs. Park's smile turned nasty. Another one of your charity cases? I heard you have a taste for rescuing desperate girls. Tell me, dear, what did he save you from? Bankruptcy? Prison? The streets?
Heat flooded my face. People around us stopped talking to listen.
I opened my mouth to defend myself
Careful, Mrs. Park. Damien's voice dropped to ice. His hand on my back tightened protectively. Insult her again, and Monday morning I'll destroy your husband's shipping business with three phone calls. His company barely survived the last recession. Want to see if it survives me?
Mrs. Park's face went white. I— I didn't mean
Yes, you did. Damien's smile was terrifying. Now apologize to Isla. Properly.
The older woman looked like she'd swallowed glass. I apologize, Miss Chen. I spoke out of turn.
Good. Damien guided me away, leaving Mrs. Park shaking.
I was too shocked to speak.
He'd defended me. Threatened someone powerful for insulting me.
Why?
Don't read into it, Damien said, reading my expression. You're mine for the next five years. I protect what belongs to me. That's all.
The words should have stung. Should have reminded me I was property.
But his hand was still on my back. Still protective. Still warm.
And for just a second, I'd felt safe.
That terrified me more than anything.
Mr. Cross! A male voice called out.
We turned.
An older man approached—silver hair, expensive suit, cruel eyes that made my skin crawl.
Something about him felt familiar. Wrong. Dangerous.
Victor Laurent, Damien said, his voice going colder. What an unpleasant surprise.
Victor Laurent smiled, but his eyes stayed cold. Now, now, Damien. We're practically partners. No need for hostility. His gaze shifted to me. And who is this lovely young woman?
My blood turned to ice.
Laurent. The name from the documents in my father's safety deposit box. The name on my birth certificate.
Elena Laurent. My mother.
This man—this cruel-eyed stranger—could be family.
This is Isla Chen, Damien said, his hand tightening on my back in warning. My companion.
Victor's eyes narrowed, studying my face too closely. Chen. Unusual name. He stepped closer. You look familiar. Have we met before?
My heart was pounding so hard I could barely breathe.
No, I forced out. I don't think so.
Strange. Victor tilted his head. You have very... distinctive features. Your eyes especially. They remind me of someone.
Damien pulled me closer to his side. If you'll excuse us, Laurent. We have other people to greet.
Of course. Victor's smile didn't reach his eyes. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Chen. I have a feeling we'll be seeing much more of each other.
He walked away, but I could feel his eyes on me.
Watching. Analyzing. Remembering.
What was that about? Damien demanded quietly.
I don't know, I lied.
But I did know.
Victor Laurent had looked at me like he recognized something. Someone.
And the way he'd stared at my eyes—Elena's eyes—sent terror through my veins.
My mother's killer was standing in the same room.
And he was starting to suspect who I really was.