I opened my eyes wide, my entire body frozen. That kiss was icy cold, drawn-out, and arrogant—like a mark of ownership. I felt as if venom was seeping through my skin, as disgust, panic, and despair surged uncontrollably.
"What are you doing?!" I screamed, thrashing violently.
He pinned my wrists down. "You're asking what I'm doing?" he sneered, his hot breath brushing against my neck. "You're my bride, the gift the Baileys offered me. Tonight is the wedding night. What do you think I'm doing?"
I struggled as tears streamed down. But he was too strong. Compared to his strength, I was just a fish caught in a net. Despair gripped my heart.
"Stop! We don't even know each other yet! This is too fast!" I shouted, my voice breaking. "I mean… we can get to know each other first. You… you can't do this."
He laughed, cold and hollow. "Too fast? You're so naive, little bride."
His lips continued moving downward. I knew if I didn't act now, I wouldn't escape.
"Tonight is the wedding night," he leaned down, whispering by my ear, his voice low and slick like a serpent slithering across skin. "Do you think I need your permission?"
I thrashed wildly. Useless. He was too powerful. I felt as if I were chained down by cold iron.
His lips pressed against my collarbone. I felt so repulsed I wanted to vomit. Only one thought echoed in my mind: I can't let this happen.
I didn't have the strength to fight him. But I had something he couldn't control my will.
I bit down on my lip, hard enough to draw blood.
Captian paused for a moment.
His breath raged beside my ear like a storm. The muscles in his arm pressed against my wrists so tightly it felt like my bones might snap. My body was pinned to the cold mattress, trapped in helplessness. The wrinkled nightgown clung to me like a white silk snare, leaving me no space to breathe.
Seeing him hesitate, I stopped struggling. I knew what I had done had some effect. So I stilled, looking him straight in the eye like a cornered animal.
"I'll bite my tongue and die right here," I hissed, each word ground out through clenched teeth, blood trickling from the side of my mouth.
Captian chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that sent chills down my spine.
"Go ahead," he whispered. "I'm used to corpses. One more won't make a difference."
I shivered, but my lips curled faintly. I knew he wasn't the type to invest in something useless. No one spends that much money just to watch the merchandise destroy itself. I bit my tongue harder, enough to let blood pool in my mouth not enough to die, but enough to make him reconsider.
"You need me," I said, lips stained with blood. "And if I die, you gain nothing. Spending that much money only to get nothing in return surely Mr. Anderson isn't the type to throw money down the drain."
A tense silence stretched thin like a wire. I felt the grip on my arms slowly loosen.
Then he stood up, arrogantly straightening his jacket.
"Looks like you've got a brain. I thought the Baileys only produced decorative puppets."
And then he left.
He really left.
Even after the door closed behind him, my heart pounded like that of someone who had just walked the edge of death.
I lay there unmoving, my heartbeat a frantic mess. I didn't know what he'd do next. But at least… this time, I'd won.
…
Two days passed. He vanished.
I began to wonder… Did I really scare him off? Or was he plotting something else?
Either way, I was still alive. And during those two days, I reminded myself constantly: stay alert.
Then, early on the third morning, the sound of a car horn echoed in the front yard. From the window, I saw a line of guards in full formation, tense like they were receiving a head of state.
He was back.
I had just swallowed a bite of bread when...
"Miss Rosy," came Nanny Lenka's voice, cutting straight through my throat. "Mr. Anderson has returned. You are to greet him."
I pressed my lips together. "Miss Rosy" I still couldn't get used to that title. I was merely a substitute. No marriage certificate, no ceremony, no name. A product traded for money.
Perhaps… the fewer the ties, the easier to escape.
I stepped outside to find the guards lined up like an army. He appeared, black coat fluttering lightly with each step that seemed to crush the earth.
Even sunlight couldn't warm his presence. I curled my lip. He looked pale, sharp, deadly like a vampire.
But of course, those were just my bold thoughts. On the surface, I smiled sweetly.
"Welcome home, Mr. Anderson," I said in a honeyed voice laced with poison.
He stared at me unblinking. I took a half-step back, a chill climbing my spine.
"Follow me," he ordered, his voice like a decree from the underworld.
I froze.
Not into the house but toward another path. I had a bad feeling, though really, what good could come from anything involving this man?
While I stood rooted in place, watching his back grow distant, a strong shove from behind nearly sent me to the ground. I turned in shock to see Ronan's face.
"Gonna walk on your own or need help? The boss doesn't like waiting. One minute late and that's a bullet in the head."
His threat drained the blood from my face which seemed to amuse him. He burst out laughing.
"Thought you were tough, turns out you're just a Hello Kitty."
"Enough. Let's go." Hunter stepped in to pull Captian along. Still as cold, terrifying, and forceful as ever. He didn't spare me a glance just marched forward. He was like an even colder version of Captian.
I swallowed hard and hurried to follow them.
He led me past a side hallway and down a dark staircase. A basement?
"You two stay here. Don't come down," Captian ordered as we stopped in front of the basement door. But his eyes were locked on me. "You, come with me."
I scanned the others instinctively, hoping for help, but of course, no one would save me. What kind of sick plan did this man have now?
The basement door opened, and a wave of cold air nearly knocked the breath out of me. The space was sealed off, dark, like a world buried underground with no trace of humanity.
I followed Captian. Every step felt like it landed on ice. The stench of metal, old leather, and chemicals assaulted my nose.
Ahead was a sterile white room so clean it was disturbing but filled with horrifying tools: restraints, whips, scalpels, glass tubes, a body-restraining chair… Each item looked used, scratched, some even stained with… blood.
I didn't make a sound, but my heart pounded like thunder in my ears.
While I stared at the twisted, clinical lineup of tools, a cold hand landed on my shoulder.
I jumped, almost screamed.
"Startled?"
Captian's low voice came from right beside my ear, sending goosebumps across my skin.
I stood frozen, not daring to turn. But Captian moved past me and gestured.
"Look."
I followed his hand. A few meters ahead was a thick frosted glass door. Behind it, I saw a figure hanging upside down. Hair dangled, limbs limp. The light inside was cold, pale. The entire scene, viewed through the glass, was just a blurry shadow.
I stopped breathing.
"I call it my collection room," he said, his tone casual, as if discussing antique paintings.
"Normally, no one gets to see it this early. But you're special. You need to know… the consequences of defying me."
I wanted to speak, scream, run but my throat had locked shut.
"Wanna be the next piece on display?"
I shook my head frantically.
Captian smiled. But there was no warmth in that smile.
…
All day, my mind reeled with the image of that collection room behind the frosted glass. That body suspended mid-air, bathed in pale yellow light, haunted me like a curse. I sat motionless for hours, blankly holding a book I couldn't read a single word of.
That evening, Nanny Lenka came to my room and knocked gently, as always. "Come down for dinner. Mr. Anderson is waiting."
I froze. As I walked to the dining room, my heart slowed—stretching time like a last gasp.
Captian was already seated, calm like a lord in an old castle. His eyes met mine. No smile. No warmth. Just… waiting.
I knew I wouldn't be able to swallow a single bite.
"Come here," he said, interrupting my attempt to pull out a chair. His voice was low, indifferent—like he was talking to an object out of place.
I dragged my feet over, slow as a character walking to the end of a tragic play. The moment I got close, he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled hard. I stumbled right into his lap.
I stiffened, body frozen. The scent of expensive fabric and his cold skin overwhelmed me. He sat there unmoving, letting me sit like a cat tossed into his lap no affection, just silent possession.
Just then, Nanny Lenka brought out a stack of luxurious gift boxes, neatly placed on the table.
"For when you visit your mother's home."
My eyes widened. "You're letting me… leave?"
"A new bride should visit her family after the wedding," he said. Then paused. "Or are you refusing?"
"I… I miss home. I really do," I said softly, though my insides bristled with unease.