The night stretched on, silent and suffocating, as Isabella sat at the edge of the massive bed, staring out the window. The city lights flickered below like stars scattered across the ground, but the walls of Ethan's penthouse felt too tight, too restricting.
She should have been used to it by now—the feeling of being caged. But tonight, something was different.
She replayed Ethan's words over and over in her mind.
"You're the only thing I've ever wanted that I couldn't have."
It wasn't just a statement. It was a warning.
A sharp knock on the door made her snap back to reality.
She turned to see Ethan standing in the doorway, his tall frame leaning against the doorframe. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the top, his sleeves rolled up, revealing the strength in his forearms. The dim lighting softened the sharp edges of his face, but nothing could hide the darkness in his eyes.
He was watching her. Always watching.
"You're still awake," he murmured, stepping inside.
Isabella crossed her arms. "I couldn't sleep."
He walked over to the minibar in the corner of the room, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The sound of liquid hitting glass was the only thing breaking the silence. He took a slow sip before finally speaking.
"I spoke to your father today."
Her body tensed. She hadn't spoken to her father in weeks—not since Ethan had taken control of her life.
She forced herself to keep her voice steady. "What did he want?"
Ethan set his drink down and turned to face her. "Money."
Of course. That was the only reason her father ever called.
"What did you tell him?" she asked, dreading the answer.
Ethan's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. "That you belong to me now. And that he won't be getting another cent."
A cold chill ran down her spine. "You had no right—"
"I had every right." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "Your father sees you as nothing more than a source of income. If I hadn't cut him off, he would have drained you dry."
She clenched her fists. "He's still my father."
Ethan stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "And I'm the man keeping him from destroying you."
Something inside her snapped.
She shot up from the bed, her anger boiling over. "You don't get to decide who I talk to! You don't get to control every aspect of my life!"
Ethan didn't flinch. If anything, he seemed amused by her outburst.
"I don't?" His voice was dangerously soft. "Then tell me, Isabella—if you were free right now, where would you go?"
She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Because she didn't know.
Her old life was gone. The world she had once known felt like a distant memory. Ethan had destroyed everything familiar and replaced it with this—a reality where he was the only constant.
And that terrified her.
Ethan took another step closer. "That's what I thought."
Her breath caught in her throat. "You don't own me."
He tilted his head, studying her. "No?"
In a swift movement, he reached out and gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't gentle either. It was a silent reminder of his control.
"I don't own you?" he repeated, his voice lower now, more dangerous. "Then why is it that no matter how many times you try to run, you always end up right back here?"
She wanted to shove him away. She wanted to scream that she didn't belong to him.
But the worst part?
She wasn't sure if she believed that anymore.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to hold his gaze. "Is this what you do to every woman you can't control? Trap them until they break?"
Ethan's grip loosened slightly, but his expression darkened. "You think this is about control?"
She scoffed. "What else would it be?"
His jaw tightened. For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—something raw.
"You want to know the truth?" he said. "The one thing I've never told you?"
She didn't answer, but he didn't need her to.
Ethan took a step back, running a hand through his hair as if he was debating whether or not to say what was on his mind.
Then he exhaled sharply.
"My darkest confession?" He looked at her, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't lose you, Isabella. Not now. Not ever."
The room felt too small. Too quiet.
Her chest tightened. She should have expected something like this, but hearing it—really hearing it—made her stomach twist.
This wasn't just possession.
It was obsession.
And maybe—just maybe—it was something even darker than that.
Silence stretched between them before she finally forced herself to speak.
"What happens if I leave?"
Ethan's eyes darkened. "You won't."
She took a shaky breath. "And if I try?"
He tilted his head, watching her carefully. "You don't want to know the answer to that, sweetheart."
A shiver ran down her spine.
Because deep down, she already knew.