Aurora's POV
Dinner was a game.
A perfect, glittering little game — and I was the centerpiece.
Damien made me sit beside him, not across. He poured me wine like we were at a romantic getaway. I didn't touch it. He didn't force me — not yet.
But I could feel his eyes on me.
Burning. Hungry. Watching like a man who'd already claimed his meal but wanted to taste the fear before the bite.
"You're shaking," he murmured, voice like silk over steel.
I didn't respond.
"Do you think I'll hurt you tonight?"
My throat clenched. I wanted to scream you already did.
Instead I said, "What do you think this is?"
His smirk was ice-cold. "A honeymoon."
---
Halfway through the meal, he answered a call.
"Yeah," he said into the phone. "She's behaving."
I didn't flinch, but my spine burned.
He kept his eyes on me the whole time.
"Don't worry. She'll be ready for the press event next week."
A pause.
Then he added, softly, with that twisted smile:
"She doesn't have a choice."
---
After dinner, he walked me upstairs. Slow. Controlled. Like he was escorting a bride, not a prisoner.
He didn't speak.
But when I stepped into the room, the ring was back — this time in a black velvet box.
Beside it, a note in his sharp, cruel handwriting:
"You'll wear it to school tomorrow. Or you won't be allowed to leave the house again."
My vision blurred.
I didn't scream.
I didn't throw the ring this time.
I just sat on the edge of the bed, silent.
And for the first time in days…
I let myself cry.
Not because I was weak.
But because no one was coming.
---
Annabelle's POV (Aurora's Mom)
I shouldn't have signed the paper.
The man had spoken with such calm authority. Wore a suit that didn't wrinkle. Smelled like cold cologne and power.
"Temporary guardianship," he'd said. "Just until the threats against her are cleared. Mr. Wolfe will handle it with full protection."
I hadn't known him. Damien Wolfe.
The name on the document meant nothing to me — only that it sounded… final.
He showed me credentials, letters, hospital documents.
Everything looked real.
But I hadn't heard from Aurora in over ten days.
They gave me a number for updates, but it was always answered by someone named Eli.
Polite. Emotionless.
"She's resting."
"She's safe."
"She'll call soon."
But she hadn't.
My fingers hovered over the number again now, heart racing.
Should I call? Should I demand answers?
Still… something in my chest is screaming.
A mother knows.
And something is wrong.
---
POV:Tiffany
"Oh my God, Auroraaaa!"
My voice was bubbly sugar.
I flung myself at her like we were besties reuniting on the red carpet.
She flinched.
Perfect.
I hugged her tight. Her body was stiff as wood.
That's okay. She didn't need to love me.
She just needed to trust me enough to keep talking.
"Girl, I've been looking everywhere for you!" I laughed, looping my arm around hers.
She didn't speak.
It was giving trauma.
"You look skinny," I said, giggling. "And like... pale. I mean, still hot, but like... haunted hot."
Still nothing.
But I could feel it — the crack in her soul.
The way she didn't even bother pretending.
"Is Mr. Wolfe picking you up again?" I asked casually.
I saw her fingers twitch.
"You're so lucky," I kept going. "That man is like... money, power, and obsession wrapped into one suit. If I were you? I'd lock that down."
Her eyes flicked to me. Pure rage. Disgust.
Even better.
When Damien pulled up in the sleek black car, she left without a word.
Didn't even look back.
I waved.
He nodded at me.
That subtle nod.
And when they drove away, I pulled out my phone and sent one message:
"She's starting to break. You were right. She's close."
---
Aurora's POV – Later That Night
I collapsed into the car seat like a broken doll.
Damien handed me a hoodie — black, soft. Mine.
I didn't take it.
He placed it gently on my lap.
Not a word was spoken on the ride back. But the silence said everything.
When we arrived, he opened the door for me.
Led me inside.
Locked the door.
Followed me up the stairs.
I felt it in my spine — the tension winding around us like a noose.
---
I sat on the edge of the bed. Still in the white silk dress he chose.
Still in the makeup I was forced to wear.
Still pretending I wasn't seconds from a breakdown.
Damien stood across the room, hands in his pockets, like he was deciding what to do with me.
"Aurora," he said.
I didn't answer.
He came closer.
"Aurora," he repeated. "Look at me."
I turned my head away.
He moved to the bed and crouched in front of me.
"I'm trying," he said. "But you make this hard."
"You kidnapped me," I whispered.
He sighed. "Because I love you."
"Your love is a disease."
He tilted his head. "Then why do you still exist? I could've killed you. I didn't. That's love."
"You hit me."
"Because you disrespected what we are."
I stared at him, bitter heat rising. "We are nothing."
That's when his smile disappeared.
And the slap came fast.
Sharp. Loud. My head snapped to the side.
I didn't cry.
He grabbed my chin, turned my face back toward him.
His voice low and terrifying.
"Say it."
"No."
Another slap. This time my lip split. Blood on my teeth.
"Say it."
I met his gaze. Voice trembling, defiant.
"I'm not yours."
He inhaled deeply.
And then smiled again — the scariest kind.
"Not yet."