I waited outside the bathroom door for what felt like forever, listening to the faint sounds of her sobs on the other side.
But I knew standing there wouldn't help. It would only make her stay inside longer. So eventually, I walked away. I went back to my room, poured myself a drink and tried to work. But nothing could pull my mind off her.
In my thirty years of existence , through countless boardroom wars, hostile takeovers, and crisis negotiations I had never found anything this impossible to handle.
And somehow, the smallest girl I'd ever met was unravelling me from the inside out.
Morning came.
I hadn't slept a blink . Just waited for the clock to move.
When I stepped into her room, it was cold . The bed still made. She hadn't come out .
I exhaled sharply and walked toward the bathroom again. Knocked.
The door opened.
She stood there , eerily calm wearing nothing but a damp towel, barely covering her chest. Her long, wet hair clung to her skin, water still dripping .
But it wasn't the image that startled me.
It was her eyes that looked so dry after probably crying whole night. Those eyes looked pretty scary.
"I took a two-hour bath," she said with sarcasm. "So you don't have to worry. There shouldn't be a trace of my filthy, ragged clothes left on me now."
I stared at her. The audacity, the mockery after everything.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I snapped, my patience thinning to a thread.
She didn't respond.
She just walked right past me, out of the bathroom, into the hallway wearing that tiny towel.
"Evelyn! What are you doing?!"
I caught up quickly and grabbed her wrist.
She stopped and turned towards me slowly.
Her eyes lit up with warning.
She yanked her hand out of my grasp with a force I didn't expect. And then she said it.
"Touch me again like that and you'll regret it for the rest of your life."
And for a second I believed her.
Not because she was dangerous.
But because she had nothing left to lose.
She stormed into the next room towards my guest lounge and on the way, grabbed a bottle of red wine from the glass shelf like she was reaching for vengeance.
I followed her, still stunned by what the hell was even happening. But she didn't stop.
She walked up to the wardrobe , the one filled with the clothes I had personally arranged for her comfort and without flinching, started pouring the wine over them.
Dark liquid soaked into expensive fabric like blood staining silk.
"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, voice thundering through the room.
"I'm burning your charity," she said. "Isn't that what you wanted? Something to really piss you off?"
I stared at her, furious. "You've already mastered that talent."
Then she pulled out a lighter.
And lit it.
The fire caught instantly, flames licking the fabric, smoke beginning to curl upward.
That was it.
I lunged forward, pulled her away before she could do anything worse. The fire wasn't spreading too far but she was completely unhinged.
Still, she tried to twist out of my grip. "Let go!"
I did . Shocked when she suddenly turned to me and snapped, "I'm done wearing this towel too."
And before I could stop her, she tore the towel from her body and flung it onto the fire like a challenge.
My jaw tightened. That was the limit.
I turned sharply and called the house staff. "Get in here. Now. Put the fire out."
And then I walked back to her.
No more arguments.
I grabbed her , roughly, yes, but not to hurt her. Slung her over my shoulder before she could protest, ignoring her fists beating lightly against my back.
"Put me down!"
I didn't answer.
I was too far gone. Not from anger, but from this whirlwind of emotion that she had spun me into .
I pushed open the door to my bedroom and dropped her onto the bed. Not gently, but not with harm. Just enough to remind her that I was still in control of something.
She landed with a soft thud, groaning slightly from the force.
I stood over her, chest rising and falling like I'd just come out of a war.
She looked up at me, naked, defiant, fire still in her eyes.
And for the first time in weeks, there was nothing between us.
No towel.
No silence.
No distance.
Just two people, furious, exhausted, and chained together by a marriage neither of us wanted, but neither of us could walk away from.
We stared at each other, both too proud to look away first.
And for a second I saw the hesitation flicker in her eyes.
She thought I might hurt her. That I'd cross some line.
But she didn't know me.
I didn't need force to make someone fear me. I just needed silence.
So I leaned down, slowly, deliberately. Close enough that she could feel my breath .
And in the calmest voice I could master, I said,
"Don't steer me like that again, Evelyn. Because if you do I can't promise what I'll become next."
Her eyes was filled with uncertainty.
I pulled back and stood upright, brushing a hand through my hair. The storm was still inside me, but I wouldn't let it win.
Without another word, I turned to the wardrobe and opened it, revealing a pristine wall of neatly hung white shirts arranged uniformly , just like I preferred my life before she came crashing into it.
I pulled one off the hanger.
Then tossed it directly onto her face.
"If you insist on throwing away your dignity , at least don't do it while walking naked through my house. Wear that."
She peeled the shirt off her face, her mouth slightly parted.
"You'll stay in here today."
She opened her mouth to protest, but I was already walking toward the door.
Before she could get up and pull another impulsive stunt, I stepped outside and locked it behind me.
I wasn't planning to confine her. That wasn't who I was. I didn't believe in caging people, no matter how unbearable they became.
But she had left me no other choice.
This place, this penthouse was the only part of my life that had remained untouched by chaos. My sanctuary. My peace. And I wouldn't let her turn it into another battlefield just to get a reaction out of me.
I wouldn't let her burn the walls too.
On my way downstairs, I paused by the kitchen, where the house staff stood tensely, likely hearing more than they should've.
I didn't raise my voice.
"Make sure she gets breakfast and lunch on time," I said. "I don't want her starving herself out of spite."
They nodded silently, and I walked away.
But as the elevator doors closed, all I could think about was the locked door behind me.
And the girl I had left on the other side of it.