The first sensation Ava felt upon waking wasn't the physical pain from the night before, but a cold emptiness deep within her soul. Faint morning light filtered through the bedroom curtains, illuminating the pristine white ceiling. The room was vast, oppressively luxurious, yet utterly devoid of human warmth, colder than any shabby rented room she'd ever lived in. Ryder had left at some unknown hour, 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 couldn't 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 didn't 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, but every word was an undeniable command. "If there's 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, scorching away 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 didn't 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 illuminated 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.
The next day, Hawkins brought Ava a lavish emerald green evening gown that clung to every curve of her body. "Tonight, Mr. Ryder wishes you to attend the Blackwood Foundation charity gala. Please prepare thoroughly."
Ava looked at the dress, then at Hawkins. She knew this was one of her "duties." Not a party for her to enjoy, but a performance, where she would be Ryder's most expensive accessory. She had no right to refuse.
That evening, when Ava descended to the hall, Ryder was waiting. He wore a pristine black tuxedo, exuding nobility and coldness. His eyes swept over her, a hint of appraisal, then a slight nod, a small gesture enough for Ava to understand she met his requirements. He held out his hand, his large, cold hand gripping hers tightly. She felt the icy touch of his skin, a stark reminder of his unyielding control.
The sleek black limousine sped through the night, taking them to the city's most luxurious hotel. The moment Ava and Ryder stepped into the banquet hall, all eyes converged on them. Ryder wasn't just a powerful man; he was a god, a captivating devil no one dared touch. He held Ava's waist tightly, pulling her close to him, displaying a blatant, undeniable possessiveness.
Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Ava heard whispers: "Is that Ryder Blackwood's new woman?", "She looks so ordinary compared to him," "Probably just another plaything." Ava felt the scrutinizing, envious, contemptuous gazes like needles pricking her skin. She tried to maintain a strained smile, clinging to Ryder's arm like a lifeline, even though he was the one who imprisoned her.
Ryder led Ava to greet a few important figures. He introduced her briefly, without any emotion: "This is Ava." As if she were just a common noun, without a surname, without an identity. Some ladies looked at her with assessing eyes, seemingly trying to gauge her worth. Ava felt like a small fish in a large tank, stared at by all the other predators.
As Ryder spoke with a business partner, another man approached. He was quite handsome, with a free-spirited demeanor, his eyes much warmer than Ryder's. "Hello, Ryder. Is this... your new fiancée?" he asked, then offered Ava a gentle smile. "Hello. I'm Eric."
Ava looked up at Eric, a little surprised by this rare friendliness. She offered a faint smile, about to reply, but immediately, a strong hand tightened around her waist. Ryder coldly cut in: "My affairs are none of your concern, Eric." He looked at Eric with sharp, warning eyes, then turned to Ava, his voice low but oppressive: "What are you doing standing here? Get back to your position."
Then, to the astonishment of Eric and those around them, Ryder suddenly leaned down, without warning, and planted a deep kiss on Ava's lips. It wasn't a sweet kiss, but a profoundly possessive, brutal one, like a declaration of ownership. His lips were cold and ruthless, his tongue forcefully invading, giving Ava no chance to resist. She felt so ashamed she wished she could disappear. Ryder used this kiss to silence Eric, to assert who Ava's true master was.
When he finally let go, Ava gasped for breath, her lips swollen. Ryder looked straight at Eric, his gaze still icy: "She's mine. Don't harbor any intentions."
Eric smirked, his eyes sweeping over Ava with a hint of pity and bewilderment. "Well, Ryder. You're still as domineering as ever."
Back at the mansion, Ava felt utterly exhausted. She hadn't even had time to take off her heavy evening gown when Ryder walked into the room. He said nothing, his deep blue eyes burning with an unreadable fire, a simmering rage.
"What did she say to you?" Ryder asked, his voice hoarse, not looking at Ava. He just stood there, facing her, like a living statue.
"Who?" Ava stammered, frightened by the terrifying silence.
"Olivia," Ryder replied, still not turning. "She came to see you, didn't she?"
Ava swallowed. "She just... brought documents..."
Suddenly, Ryder spun around. His eyes bore into Ava, full of brutality. "Don't lie to me. Do you think you can outsmart me?" He advanced, each step making Ava retreat. "Did she talk about my women? Or did she say you're just a toy?"
Ava backed against the wall, trembling all over. "No... nothing..."
Ryder raised his hand, not to strike, but to grab her chin, squeezing tightly. "Don't play innocent. I know what you were thinking when he looked at you. I know you also want to be treated gently by someone like him." His voice dropped, full of menace. "Never think about that. You're mine. From now on, you won't go out anymore."
He threw her onto the bed without mercy. The evening gown ripped, the expensive silk unable to withstand his force. Ava screamed, but the scream was swallowed by Ryder's brutal kiss. He kissed her madly, as if to devour her, to erase all other thoughts, all other desires from her mind.
He seized Ava's wrists, pinning them above her head, his fingers squeezing so hard she felt her bones might shatter. She struggled, but it was utterly futile. He said nothing, only leaned down, his fiery gaze sweeping over every inch of her skin. Ryder pushed deep into her, without any foreplay, without any tenderness, just pure, violent invasion. Ava bit her lip hard, muffled sobs escaping, mixing with his heavy gasps.
Every movement of Ryder's was a blow, an assertion of absolute power. He wanted her to feel the pain, to engrave in her memory that she belonged to him, that she couldn't escape. She felt the rough friction, the scorching heat from his body, burning her from the inside out. Ryder gritted his teeth, whispers full of lust and possession echoing in her ear: "Mine... you're mine... only mine."
Ava's hands clawed at Ryder's bare back, not from desire, but from extreme agony. She wanted to break free, to struggle, but she knew, the more she resisted, the more furious and ruthless he became. Tears mixed with sweat, drenching the bedsheets. She no longer felt her body, only a throbbing, persistent pain and boundless humiliation.
When Ryder finally released her, he rolled to one side, panting. Not a word, not a glance. He stood up, walked into the bathroom, leaving Ava lying on the bed, naked, exhausted, and with a shattered soul.
Ava's tears silently fell onto the pillow. She felt like a crumpled piece of fabric, crushed and discarded by Ryder after he had extracted all its value.