Chapter Two

F or a few heartbeats, I stay completely still, my body burning with heat before the chill sets in, creeping through my skin like ice.

It was a wonder I could hear the deep tenor of his voice over the ringing in my ears.

I stare at the man I’d thought I escaped. My brain is yelling at me, urging me to bolt. To escape. But my body doesn’t cooperate. I keep standing like a statue, helpless and weak.

Damian lets out a deep sigh, his broad shoulders rising and falling. I feel my legs start to give way. Reality finally manages to pierce through my shock and hits me.

I may have run away just a week ago but it’s been two long months since I last saw my husband. He was supposed to return home after a business trip, but complications kept him away longer than either of us expected. Two months stretched endlessly, and he even missed our first wedding anniversary. He didn’t call, didn’t text—not even a simple “I’m sorry” for missing it.

The next morning, I ran. You might think I left because I was angry or hurt. But that’s not the truth.

Yes, I was heartbroken when he missed our first wedding anniversary. Devastated, even. But to leave my husband over that? Who does that? Who walks out just because their feelings were hurt?

No, that wasn’t why I ran. I left because, on the very day that should’ve been a celebration of us, I discovered something so earth-shattering, it broke me.

For the first time, I was thankful for his absence. It gave me the space—the courage—I needed to walk away. If he’d been there, if I’d had to face him, I know I wouldn’t have dared. He’s not the kind of man who’d let his wife walk away.

He looks almost unrecognizable, harsher, more dangerous. The sharp lines of his jaw are coated in dark stubble. His velvety black eyes, once a source of comfort, now burn into me with a predatory focus that makes it hard to breathe.

His suit jacket lies discarded on the bed, leaving him in a black button-down that clings to his broad shoulders and his powerful frame. The top three buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing his tanned chest and the hint of dark hair beneath.

The half-empty tumbler resting on the table beside him tells me he’s been here for a while. Waiting.

With a gaze that could pierce through steel and a presence that demands obedience, Damian is a force to be reckoned with.

A part of me longs for the days before we were married. Back then, everything felt so much easier. So much better.

He was always the silent type. I used to think that his silence was just part of who he was. It didn’t bother me. In fact, I told myself that after marriage, he’d open up more, that things would change, that our love would grow into something deeper. But I was wrong. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Back then, there was warmth in our connection, even in the quiet. Now, it’s all just ice. And I don’t know how to break through. Now, his silence terrifies me.

Looking back on everything, the truth is undeniable. Damian’s emotional detachment wasn’t just a result of poor communication. He just didn’t care. He never loved me, not in the way I craved, not in the way I needed him to. Coming to terms with that truth is like swallowing broken glass. The love I believed in was nothing more than a fantasy I held onto far too long.

Damian is a self-made multi-billionaire. His empire is everything to him. A workaholic to the core, he always put his business above everything, including me. There were moments I’d needed him—whether it was for support or just to feel seen—but all I got was silence and distance. I told myself it didn’t matter, that it was just the pressure of running his empire but the truth was I was always an afterthought.

So, when I ran away, I assumed Hal and his team would track me down. Damian had never made me a priority, never once took a break from his empire to care for me. But now, here he is. In Paris. The man who’d never put me before his work, who had never once made time for me, has come all this way to find me himself. The very same man who built his world around business has stepped out of it, for me.

It wasn’t until I left that he finally paid attention to me. A sharp pang of sorrow twists my heart as I think about all the times I begged him to come home early, to just be with me. The calls I made, the voicemails he never bothered with, the texts that went unanswered. But it wasn’t until I left that he finally acknowledged me.

It wasn’t always like this, though, I admit to myself reluctantly. After those trips, Damian would spend a week or two with me. How could I ever forget those days?

Those weeks were everything. In those rare moments, he became someone who couldn’t seem to get enough of me.

It was as if a switch flipped, and suddenly, his desire was undeniable, consuming. Every touch, every look, was filled with a hunger that took my breath away. For those days, he was mine. Entirely mine. We spent every second wrapped up in each other. Only stopping for meals before falling back into each other’s arms.

I mistook his voracious sexual appetite, blazing passion for affection. Based on those weeks, I convinced myself that he really loved me.

But his insatiable appetite for me had never been about love. It was a temporary distraction, a means to satisfy his own desires without ever truly connecting with me on an emotional level.

He never saw me as more than an object to fulfill his cravings. The moments when he held me weren’t filled with love, but with a need to claim, to mark his territory.

But now, with clarity seeping through the cracks of my shattered illusions, I see the truth for what it is. He never wanted me beyond my body.

I ignored all the signs that were always present. It was entirely my fault.

One of the things I also learned about him is that he doesn’t like to lose. Ever. He is a ruthless man. He has clawed his way to the top, leaving a trail of rivals and adversaries in his wake.

His empire stands as a testament to his prowess, a kingdom built on the foundation of his ruthless work ethic and unyielding drive.

If you crossed him, he wouldn’t think twice before destroying your life as well as of those you love.

That rule applies to me, too. Being his wife doesn’t mean he’ll spare me. If anything, it makes me an even bigger target. I haven’t seen anything about my disappearance in the news yet, but I know I didn’t just risk ruining his reputation; I threatened everything he’s built. And now, with him breaking into my suite, I know exactly what this means. I’m in deep trouble.

I swallow hard “Damian.”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his thighs. “Come here.” He pats his right thigh, stealing all the air from my lungs.

Beyond the fear, something else tightens inside of me at his command.

It’s humiliating to even think about it, but being near him does things to me. He’s always had this effect on me, this way of getting under my skin and making me crave him, even when I shouldn’t.

It’s not just his deep voice slicing through the air like it’s meant to cut me open. It’s the way his presence owns the room without even trying.

I hate how my body reacts to him, how my pulse races and my skin heats under his gaze. It’s infuriating and embarrassing. He’s a dangerous kind of beautiful disaster, and the worst part? He knows exactly what he’s doing to me. The space between us feels like a live wire, buzzing with electricity I’m too weak to sever.

I take a small step to the side. Toward the bedroom door. If I can just be brave and dash outside in the living area, I can—

“Don’t even think about it, River.” He speaks unhurriedly and a burst of fear pricks my skin with goosebumps. The haze of the wine is fully cleared.

“What are you doing here?” My voice shakes as he drags his eyes from my red-painted lips down to my body, taking in my bare shoulders and the short black dress. His jaw ticks as he watches. He is searching for his timid wife who dresses in dull muted colors. The wife whose makeup screamed sophistication instead of bold and seductive.

He might think I am rebelling but truth be told, I was simply concealing my identity. Being the wife of one of the richest men in the world entails unwanted exposure.

To keep a low profile, I reinvented myself completely. But it was all for nothing—because now, I’m standing face to face with my ruthless husband.

So, earlier… that man… I wasn’t imagining things after all. Hal really was following me.

I clear my throat when his gaze stays on my bare thighs for a second too long. Slowly taking his time, he brings his eyes back up. “Come give me a kiss first.”

My mouth falls open in disbelief. Is he really going to pretend that everything is fine between us? I left him, and yet he’s acting as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. As if this is just another routine part of his day.

“I am not doing that.”

His brow furrows. “Is that any way to greet your husband, angel?”

When I don’t move, he sighs and pushes to his feet. His large frame straightens to his full height of six feet three and suddenly the air in the room becomes stifling.

My heart thumps hard when he begins walking toward me. He does that so leisurely but the storm brewing in his dark as night eyes tells me I’m in trouble.

I plaster my back against the wall when he stops mere inches away from me. He raises his hand and tucks a curl behind my ear. Then he lets his fingertips trail down my cheek. For the briefest of seconds, I forget about everything and lean into his gentle touch.

“I thought you loved me, angel,” he murmurs as he cups my cheek.

“I do.” The words are out before I can swallow them. Dark satisfaction burns in his eyes. “Good.”

His reply jars me. I’ve loved Damian so much, enough for the both of us. That’s why I didn’t care that he never said those words back. But now? His “good” in response to my confession sinks like a hook in my heart, making it heavy with crushing disappointment.

He tilts my face up. “Did you miss me?”

“I-I didn’t.” The lie feels heavy on my tongue, because the truth is, he never left my mind. Not for a second. This whole week, I was a wreck. Miserable. Heartbroken. Devastated. I spent every moment struggling to accept the reality—that Damian, the only man I’ve ever loved, would soon be gone from my life. That I’d have to divorce him.

The word divorce brings a wave of pain that threatens to cripple me. I stare at him with moisture in my eyes and wonder if he ever longed for me more than my body.

“So my innocent wife has learned to lie?” His expression is chastising as he closes what little space separating us by putting his front flush with mine. “What else did you learn while I was away?”

My hands come up as I try to push him away. “Don’t touch me.”

“But you love me touching you.” He runs his knuckles along my throat. I shiver. The warm, spicy notes of his cologne drift to me, mingling with the unmistakable scent of him—a scent my body instantly recognizes and aches for.

It’s true, isn’t it? He’s right. I crave his touch—every part of him. I love every moment I can have with him. I want him. I need him. All the damn time. The worst part is that he knows it. He knows how much I long for him and he is using it to humiliate me.

I glance up at him with welling eyes. “Do you love me, Damian?”

He stills, then his hand falls to his side and with a deliberate step back, he studies me, his face blank.

The silence crushes what little is left of my heart.

“Let me rephrase that.” I give a shaky smile, but it’s a poor attempt to cover the raw ache inside. A tear slips down my cheek, and I wipe it away in desperation, my hands trembling. “D-did you… ever love me?”

“What is this about?” His tone is curt.

I cover my aching chest with a trembling hand. Trying to swallow a sob, I say, “Me.”

“Does it matter?”

I step forward and clutch fistful of his shirt desperately. “It does. I want to know why you married me when you never wanted me to begin with!” I sob. “I want to know why you played with me like that. You isolated me from everyone I loved. You made sure I was dependent on you financially, emotionally, and in every way possible.” I stare at him through the onslaught of tears. “Just tell me, damn it!” My voice trembles, and when he still says nothing, the silence hits harder than words ever could. I shake my head. “It was easy, wasn’t it?” I say, quieter now, almost to myself. “I was too easy. Too easy to push, too easy to fool. Too easy to manipulate.” I pause for a beat, then, “Actually, you didn’t even have to manipulate me because I was happy with the mere crumbs you gave me!”

“You’re upset,” he remarks.

I release a humorless laugh. “Yes! Thank you for noticing. God knows how much I craved to be noticed.” The last part was a silent murmur. A confession that really isn’t a confession because he knows how much I begged for his time.

I’m an introvert. I never enjoyed socializing or crowded rooms. Always preferred solitude. But even I can’t survive like this—cut off from the world. And that’s how my life was back home. When he’s away on his endless business trips, the loneliness becomes unbearable.

His guards won’t so much as glance at me for more than a second. The housekeeper and the maids keep their distance despite my numerous attempts to talk. It’s as though everyone in that house was instructed to treat me like a ghost.

And Damian? He’s no better. Even when he’s touching me, even when he’s inside me, he says nothing. He gives nothing. Just cold indifference. The thought of going back to that life grips me with panic. I press my trembling hands against my chest, trying to hold myself together as the words spill out. “I can’t live like this.”

He tenses. “It’s not uncommon to feel caged in our house given the huge space and few people. I’ll tell my secretary to ease up my schedule so we could go on a holiday every once in a while.”

I shake my head. “You know damn well a holiday won’t fix this.”

He checks his watch. “It’s late. Get some sleep. We leave in a few hours.”

I stare at him, unable to move, unable to speak. Did he even hear me? Or does he just not care? I poured my heart out, laid my pain bare, and he brushed it off like it was nothing. Tears sting the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. He doesn’t deserve them.

I should confront him about the files I found in his home office. I should demand answers, force him to explain. But after watching him dismiss me so ruthlessly, I can’t find the strength.

This marriage has made me feel like a fool, desperate and pathetic. I’m already carrying more than I can handle, and if I add anything else to this weight, I’ll fall apart. I just can’t do it.

Right now, I should stick to what’s important. “I’m not coming back.”

He walks over to the chair and picks up his tumbler. Bringing it to his lips, he takes a sip, savoring the drink.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I cry out.

He finishes the drink then sets the tumbler down. Without a word, he crosses the room. When he’s in front of me, he reaches out and cups my cheek. “I did. But what you’re asking, angel is simply out of the question.”

“You can’t force me.” I sniffle.

Tilting my face, he kisses my lips softly. “I won’t.” He then reaches into his pockets and retrieves something. He extends both his closed fists in front of me.

When I just stare dumbfoundedly, he sighs and says, “Choose one, angel.”

I reluctantly touch his right fist. He twists his hand, palm facing up, slowly revealing what he’s holding inside.

“My sleeping pills?”

He kisses my cheek. “Good choice, angel.”

My heart sinks. “What do you mean?”

He opens the other fist, revealing a syringe. I stagger back in shock.

“I would hate to hurt you unnecessarily. So the sleeping pill is the safe bet.”

Did he… Did he just? No. There’s no way he just implied that. I am speechless. He can… sedate me to take me home? A chill runs down my spine. He didn’t say it outright, but the implication was there.

He wants me unconscious, to keep me out of the way while he drags me back home like a possession. I’ve never seen this side of him before. Was he always this ruthless? Did I miss the signs? Or was I too blind to see the darkness in him?

I cry out in surprise when I’m swept off my feet. I clutch at Damian’s neck. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer just carries me to the bed and lowers me down carefully, brushing the hair from my face as he does. Then he exits the bedroom and returns in a few seconds with a glass of water. He hands me the pills and the glass and watches me expectantly.

I need to do something. I need to act fast if I don’t want to end up in my gilded cage again, trapped by his rules. I can feel my freedom slipping through my fingers like sand. The thought of being locked away, controlled like an object, makes me dizzy with anxiety. He’s already shown me how easily he can take everything from me. I can’t let that happen again. “I’m hungry,” I blurt.

He narrows his eyes. “You skipped dinner?”

Heat rushes to my face. His disapproval makes me feel like a child rather than a grown woman. “I didn’t have an appetite.”

He examines me for a beat too long then relents. “I’ll order room service.” When I nod, he cups my chin. “And then you will do as you’re told.”

It takes a lot of effort to nod again. He bends down and presses a soft kiss to my brow before turning and leaving the room.

Staring at his retreating back, I make a vow to myself. No matter what, I refuse to go back to that life again. I can’t— won’t —let that happen.

I tighten my fingers around the pills as a plan begins to form in my head.

I’m running out of time, running out of choices. The plan in my head is reckless. Too reckless but what else do I have left? Every option feels like a dead end, and the walls are closing in tighter with each passing second. There’s no safe way out, no easy escape.

This plan… is risky. It’s insane. It’s dangerous. But I’m so damn desperate that it’s the only thing I can hold onto. If I don’t do this, if I don’t take this risk, then I’ll be trapped forever.

You left me no choice, husband.