The first sensation Ava felt upon waking was not the physical ache from the previous night, but a cold emptiness from the depths of her soul. The faint morning light filtered through the curtains of the bedroom, illuminating the pristine white ceiling. The room was vast, oppressively luxurious, yet utterly devoid of human warmth, colder than any shabby rented room she had ever known. Ryder had already left, without a word, without a trace, as if the previous night had never happened.
She lay still, staring at the ceiling, feeling the exhaustion in her body and the brokenness in her heart. She closed her eyes, trying to cling to a faint memory of Lam An's warmth, of her parents' laughter, but everything felt impossibly distant. What was she now? A doll? A possession? Or a prisoner in a gilded cage?
A soft knock echoed at the door. "Miss, are you awake?" Hawkins' steady voice resonated from outside.
Ava sat up, pulling the blanket to cover herself. "Come in."
Hawkins entered, followed by a young maid in a black and white uniform, her face expressionless. The maid placed a clean set of clothes and towels on the armchair, then quietly retreated.
"Has Miss finished preparing? Mr. Ryder wishes for you to have breakfast in his private dining room," Hawkins said, his gaze sweeping over Ava with familiar indifference. "And please note, Miss. Mr. Ryder dislikes tardiness."
Ava said nothing, only nodded. She stepped into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Warm water cascaded over her body, washing away the lingering impurities from the night before, but it could not cleanse the feeling of defilement and degradation in her soul. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale, but deep within their gaze, Ava saw a hardening slowly taking form. A painful acceptance.
When she descended to Ryder's private dining room, he was already seated. A small table for two, laden with lavish dishes Ava had never seen before. Ryder was reading a newspaper, a cup of steaming coffee beside him. He did not look up when Ava sat down, maintaining an indifferent demeanor as if she didn't exist. Breakfast passed in silence, broken only by the clink of silverware against porcelain and the rustle of Ryder's newspaper. Every small sound became a heavy pressure on Ava's chest.
When Ryder folded the newspaper, he finally looked up, his eyes sharp as blades as they swept over Ava. "Hawkins will give you a tour of the villa. Remember the rules clearly. Which areas are permitted, which are not. You are not allowed to contact the outside world without my permission." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion, yet every word was an undeniable command. "If there is any trouble, I will know. And you will pay the price."
With that, he rose, leaving his meal unfinished, and walked straight out the door. A tall bodyguard already stood waiting, holding open the car door. Ryder left without even glancing back at Ava, leaving her alone in the cold room.
Hawkins appeared shortly after, carrying a stack of documents. "Here is the villa's layout and the basic list of rules, Miss." He placed it on the table, then stated in a firm voice: "The basement, Mr. Ryder's work area, and some private rooms in the West Wing are forbidden zones. Miss is not permitted to enter them under any circumstances. If violated, Mr. Ryder will impose appropriate penalties."
Ava took the papers, her eyes scanning the cold words. She felt like a bird confined in a cage, able to observe the outside world through the bars, but never permitted to fly freely. She tried to find a way to contact Lam An. "Hawkins, I... can I call home? I want to know how Lam An is doing."
Hawkins didn't hesitate. "All information regarding your brother is forwarded directly to Mr. Ryder. He will handle everything. Miss need not worry. And as per the contract, you are not permitted to contact the outside world without Mr. Ryder's permission."
The invisible chains tightened further. Ava knew she was completely severed from her old life. She was a prisoner, sustained by Ryder's money, protected under his watchful eye.
Hawkins guided Ava around the villa. Every corner exuded opulence but lacked any warmth. She passed a modern gym, a colossal library with thousands of untouched books, a private cinema. All were symbols of power and loneliness. Ava felt watched. She caught fleeting glances from the servants, spotted small cameras hidden in the corners of rooms. Even in the beautiful rose garden, where each bloom proudly unfolded under the sun, she sensed the surveillance.
That afternoon, as Ava sat in the library, trying to read a book to escape reality, a knock echoed. A young woman, strikingly beautiful, with cascading brown curls and a designer business dress, entered. It was Olivia, Ryder's personal secretary, whom Ava had briefly seen at the Blackwood headquarters.
"Miss Ava?" Olivia's voice was haughty and contemptuous. "Mr. Ryder wants you to review these documents." She placed a folder on the table in front of Ava. "This contains information about Mr. Ryder's social connections. You should familiarize yourself to know who to talk to and who to avoid. Don't embarrass him."
Olivia looked Ava up and down, her eyes sweeping over Ava as if Ava were a stain not worth looking at. "Who do you think you are? A plaything should know her place. Don't dream of stepping into Ryder's world." Olivia's lip curled. "He has far more important things to concern himself with than a contract wife like you."
Olivia's words were like a splash of cold water to Ava's face, extinguishing her last shred of self-respect. Ava clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to retort, to scream that she wasn't a plaything, that she had her own reasons, her own pain. But she couldn't. Every word choked in her throat. She knew she was weak. She knew she had no voice.
"Understood?" Olivia asked, her tone mocking. "Good. I hope you're sensible. Don't make me come back here for trivial matters." With that, she turned and left, leaving Ava alone in the vast room, surrounded by humiliation and helplessness.
That evening, Ryder returned late. He had an important meeting and did not dine with Ava. She ate alone in her private dining room, looking out the window at the city lights twinkling like millions of distant stars. She was a fallen star, imprisoned in Ryder's own universe.
As Ava drifted into a dreamless sleep in her luxurious yet cold room, she suddenly startled awake. The door creaked open, and a tall, dark silhouette stood there. Ryder. He walked in, not turning on the light, only the cold moonlight from outside illuminating his imposing figure. He said nothing, simply approached the bed, casting fear into Ava's already fragile state. She didn't know why he was there. To check on her? To continue tormenting her? Or simply to assert that, even in her sleep, she remained under his control?
Ava squeezed her eyes shut, feigning deep sleep. She heard Ryder's footsteps grow closer and closer, then the rustle of the bedsheets as he lay down beside her. No words were exchanged, only the steady rhythm of his breath on her neck. Ava froze. She felt his oppressive presence, a colossal shadow enveloping her, even in her sleep. She knew that no matter where she was, or what she did, she would never escape the invisible cage named Ryder Blackwood.