Owned By The Enemy

"You're not serious."

Liana's voice trembled, but her spine stayed straight.

Dominic Stone didn't flinch. He stood on the opposite end of the hallway, black suit flawless, hands in his pockets, face carved in granite.

"I never joke, Liana," he said, calm as a loaded gun. "You marry me, or your father goes to prison."

She stared at him, heart pounding so hard she could hear it over the echo of footsteps, whispers from the courthouse, the ringing in her ears. "You set him up."

"Did I?" His brows twitched. "Funny. The evidence says otherwise. Millions of dollars missing. Falsified accounts. Fraud. That's not my signature on those documents, sweetheart. It's your daddy's."

"I know what this is," she spat. "This is revenge."

Dominic's smile was slow and dangerous, like something with teeth. "Very observant."

"Why me?" she whispered. "You could have destroyed him and walked away. Why drag me into it?"

His eyes darkened. "Because you walked away five years ago, Liana. And I never forget betrayal."

Her father had begged her not to come.

"There's nothing you can do, sweetheart," he had whispered, cuffed to a table, eyes hollow.

But she had come anyway. And now she stood here, across from the man she once trusted, once nearly loved-before everything shattered.

"You want to punish me by marrying me?" she asked, disgust curling in her throat.

Dominic stepped forward, slow, steady. "No. I want to own you. Completely. Publicly. Legally."

She took a step back. "You're sick."

"You're desperate."

Her silence gave him the answer.

He pulled a folded document from his coat. Set it on the bench between them. "Marriage contract. One year. You move in with me, play the doting wife, keep your mouth shut, and do as I say."

She didn't touch it.

"Your father walks out clean," he said, voice colder now. "Refuse, and I call in every favor I have to make sure he rots."

She stared at the paper. Her eyes stung. Her throat burned.

"I hate you," she whispered.

Dominic's voice dipped like a silk knife. "That's a good start, Mrs. Stone."

---

Three days later...

Flashbulbs exploded as Liana stepped out of the black car in white silk and cold silence. The press screamed questions. She didn't answer. Her hand clutched Dominic's arm like a prisoner clutches her chains.

The wedding was fast. Painless.

Until the kiss.

His mouth pressed to hers, slow and hard, for the cameras. But when he leaned in, lips brushing her ear, he whispered, "Smile, darling. You're mine now."

And she did.

With hate burning behind her eyes.

---

That night, she stood inside his penthouse-staring at the bedroom door like it was a trap.

She didn't want to cry.

Didn't want to scream.

But she wanted to run. Far.

Then she heard his footsteps behind her.

"You'll get used to this," Dominic said, voice low, as he poured himself a glass of something expensive. "The cameras. The pressure. Me."

"I'll never get used to you."

He took a sip and met her eyes over the rim of the glass. "You will. Every inch of me."

And as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him, Liana realized something horrifying:

The prison wasn't the contract.

It was the man.