His lips twisted into a cold smile. “Disobey me again, and I’ll make sure you see the monster I am.”
Before I could respond, he released one of my wrists and pulled out his phone. He dialled a number, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Make the arrangements,” he said into the phone. “Start with her friend. Bankrupt her.”
My eyes widened in horror. “No! Please, no!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face.
He hung up without another word, his gaze hard and unrelenting as he watched me crumble.
“How could you?” I sobbed, my voice breaking. “How could you do this?”
“Because you need to understand, Dolcezza,” he said coldly, his grip tightening. “There’s no part of your life I can’t control. No one I can’t touch. If you think you can fight me, think again.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Wife
My hands were shaking as I signed the papers. The pen slipped slightly when I finished writing my name. My vision was blurred from tears, my chest tight with a mixture of rage, humiliation, and despair.
The moment I finished, he snatched the papers away without a word. His cold eyes scanned my signature as if ensuring I hadn't made some last act of defiance.
He didn’t respond, didn’t even look at me. Instead, he turned his head slightly, his voice sharp and commanding. “Elena.”
The young maid, who’d been standing silently near the doorway, stepped forward. She kept her eyes downcast, her body rigid, as though afraid to even exist in his presence.
“Take her to the room,” he ordered emotionlessly. “She’ll be staying there as my wife.”
Wife. The word stung. I wanted to scream at him, to throw something, to rip those papers apart, but I couldn’t even move. I was frozen in place, drowning in the reality of what I’d just done.
“Yes, sir.” She nodded.
Without so much as a glance at me, he turned to the man, the lawyer, I guess.
“Please, come with me, miss,” the maid muttered.
I followed her silently, my legs weak and unsteady, my body moving as if on autopilot.
She led me to the stairs and then a sleek hallway. It was endless and inescapable.
The maid glanced back at me a few times. “This way,” she murmured, opening a large wooden door at the end of the hall.
I stepped inside, and my stomach churned. The room was enormous, bigger than any space I’d ever lived in. The bed was massive, draped in luxurious fabrics that screamed wealth and power. The walls were adorned with expensive art, and the windows were so tall they nearly touched the ceiling.
“This will be your room.”
My room. Not our room. Not his room. Mine. That should’ve been a relief. This wasn’t a sanctuary. It was another prison, gilded and opulent but suffocating all the same.
“Does he… does he always get what he wants?” I asked bitterly.
The maid hesitated, her expression conflicted for a second before she masked her emotions. “He… he’s not someone who’s used to hearing no.”
I let out a hollow laugh, more a broken sound than anything resembling humour. “I gathered that.”
She fidgeted with her hands, her gaze darting to the floor. “I’ll bring up your things,” she said softly, as if trying to ease the tension.
I turned away from her, unable to look at her pitying expression any longer. “Don’t bother,” I muttered. “None of it matters anymore.”
The door closed behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the room. I stood there, staring at the bed, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.
