His punishment wasn't violence.It was control.And it was far more devastating.
Elara Larsen stood frozen in Damien Vance's study, her heart slamming against her ribs.The diamond choker around her neck bit into her skin, tightening with every uneven breath.
The phone receiver still hung limp in her hand—her mother's voice, warm and oblivious, cut off mid-sentence.And in the doorway stood Damien, his tall frame bathed in the silver light spilling through the windows.
His gray eyes burned like frost. His face was carved in ice.The small key to her choker dangled from his fingers, glinting—a silent threat.
She tried to speak.To explain.But his silence killed every word before it formed.
He didn't shout.He didn't need to.
The air around him pulsed with quiet fury, the kind that made her skin prickle.
He crossed the room slowly, his movements smooth, deliberate—like a predator who already knew his prey couldn't run.
When he reached her, he took the receiver from her shaking hand. His fingers brushed hers, cold and final.
With a soft click, he hung it up.The sound was small.But to Elara, it felt like the world ending.
"You broke the rules," he said at last, his voice low—velvet over steel. "And you know what happens when you disobey me."
Her throat tightened.Tears threatened, burning behind her eyes.
"I just wanted to hear her voice," she whispered. "You can't take that from me. You can't take everything."
His lips curved, the faintest smile—a cruel, beautiful thing that made her stomach drop.
"Can't I?" he murmured.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, never breaking her gaze, and pressed it to his ear.
"James," he said, his tone crisp, businesslike. "Freeze the second tranche of the Larsen Industries investment. Indefinitely."
Elara's breath shattered.Her knees buckled, one hand catching the edge of the desk to keep from collapsing.
The words struck like bullets.
Larsen Industries—the reason she had sold her freedom, the reason she had endured every humiliation—was about to crumble.
Her father's voice echoed in her mind, begging the bank for time.Her mother's hope, the house still warm with dreams she had bartered away.
And with one sentence, Damien was unraveling it all.
"No," she gasped, choking on the word. "Damien, please. You can't. My family—they'll lose everything."
He ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket with slow precision.Every movement was calculated cruelty.
"I warned you," he said quietly. "Actions have consequences, Elara. You chose defiance. Now you'll live with the cost."
"You're a monster," she spat, her voice shaking with fury. "You wanted this. You wanted me to fail."
His eyes flickered, amusement flashing like a knife.
"I didn't need to want it," he said softly, stepping closer. "Your father's calls were tapped. I heard everything. I knew you'd try to reach him."
Her blood ran cold.
"I knew," he continued, his tone dark and almost intimate, "that you'd reach for something human. That you'd need to feel connected to the life you left behind. So I let you."
Her heart stopped.
He'd known.All of it.
The landline. The call. The illusion of choice.
It had all been a trap.
Tears blurred her vision, spilling freely now. "You're sick," she whispered. "You're not even human."
He didn't flinch. His face was calm, but his eyes burned.
"I'm your husband," he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "And you will learn obedience—or I'll destroy every last thing you care about."
He reached out suddenly, his hand wrapping around her wrist. His grip was firm, possessive, unrelenting.
Her pulse raced under his fingers.She wanted to rip free, but her strength failed her.
"You will learn," he said again, his tone a dark caress.
When he released her, it wasn't mercy—it was dominance.His hand moved to her throat, to the diamond collar.
He lifted the key. The metal glinted under the faint city light as he slid it into the lock.
A faint click.The collar loosened.
For a single heartbeat, hope flared—bright, fragile, foolish.
Then he refastened it.
Tighter.
The metal pressed into her skin, the diamonds biting until she winced.
Her pulse thudded beneath his touch, trapped under his fingers.
"Your defiance," he said, his voice smooth, deliberate, "has a price."
He leaned close enough that she could feel the whisper of his breath. "Tomorrow, your father will receive notice of default. Every tear he sheds will be your doing."
Her vision swam.Her voice broke. "Please," she whispered. "I'll do anything. Just don't hurt them."
He smiled then—a cruel, beautiful smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"You'll do anything regardless," he said simply.
He stepped back, his gaze sweeping over her, possessive and cold. "Now, get ready. We have a gala to attend."
Elara stood there, trembling.Her silk dress clung to her skin, heavy, suffocating.
She wanted to scream, to tear the collar from her throat. But his eyes held her in place, sharp as knives.
She'd thought she was strong.But in this world, her strength meant nothing.
He turned toward the door, his posture all command."Move," he said. "The car is waiting."
She followed, her movements mechanical, her heart a storm of rage and grief.
The city beyond the glass gleamed like a cruel joke.Somewhere out there, her parents still believed in miracles.
They didn't know she was the miracle's price.
The private elevator swallowed them in silence.
Damien stood beside her, immaculate, unreadable, the faint reflection of the city lights flickering across his face.
Elara stared ahead, her body rigid, her soul hollow.
Every second of quiet was torture.Every breath felt like surrender.
By the time the elevator doors slid open, she understood the truth.
Defying Damien Vance wasn't an act of bravery.It was a declaration of war.
And he had already won the first battle.
The Rolls-Royce waited outside, sleek and silent.As they stepped in, the diamonds at her throat caught the city lights, glittering like stars—and shackles.
She kept her eyes on the glass, the skyline blurring past.
She'd tried to fight.She'd tried to hold on to herself.And now her family would pay the price.
But deep inside, under the fear and heartbreak, something small still lived.
A whisper. A promise.
He could punish her. Break her.But she would never stop fighting for the pieces of herself he couldn't touch.