Chapter 3 Three

Jessica's POV

The air was thick with laughter and the clinking of champagne glasses. I followed behind Raymond like a lost shadow, his presence commanding the room as he spoke to different guests. His grip on my hand was firm, his touch neither warm nor affectionate just a claim, a reminder that I now belonged to him.

I kept my head down, silent, until an older man with silver hair and sharp eyes turned his attention to me.

"You must be Jessica," he said with a charming smile. "Quite the beauty."

I forced a polite smile, my stomach twisting in discomfort. "Thank you, sir."

"You must be happy," he continued, sipping his wine. "Being married to a man like Raymond is a privilege."

I had no words. What could I say? That my father sold me off like a piece of property? That I was standing here in a wedding dress, feeling like a prisoner rather than a bride?

Before I could think of a response, Raymond's grip on my wrist tightened. "That's enough, Mr. Bennett. My wife and I have other guests to attend to."

His voice was smooth but edged with irritation. The older man chuckled, raising his glass in surrender. "Of course, of course. Enjoy your wedding."

Raymond didn't wait for me to respond. He pulled me away, his fingers digging into my skin. The second we were out of sight of the guests, he leaned in close.

"You will not speak unless I allow it," he murmured against my ear, his tone chilling.

I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat.

Before I could process his words, he was already leading me outside. A black limousine waited for us, and without another word, he pushed open the door, motioning for me to get in. I hesitated for half a second, then obeyed. What choice did I have?

The car pulled away from the venue, the city blurring into streaks outside the window. I stole a glance at Raymond, who had already poured himself a glass of champagne. He took slow, deliberate sips, his expression unreadable.

I swallowed, gathering my courage. "Raymond, I-"

"Did I give you permission to speak?" he cut me off coldly, not even sparing me a glance.

My body went rigid.

I wanted to scream, to fight back, but I bit my lip instead, forcing the tears to stay at bay. I turned my face away, staring out the window. The reality of my situation was sinking in fast, this wasn't just a forced marriage. This was ownership.

Minutes later, the limousine slowed to a stop. One of the guards opened the door, and as I stepped out, a small gasp escaped my lips.

The mansion before me was something out of a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

It was massive, almost intimidating. The towering gates, the marble pillars, the cascading waterfall in the center of the driveway, it all screamed wealth and power.

But none of it felt welcoming.

Raymond was already walking inside, not sparing me a glance. I quickly followed, my heels clicking against the marble floors.

The interior was even more breathtaking-gold chandeliers, polished wooden staircases, velvet curtains. Everything was perfect.

Except I wasn't a guest. I was his prisoner.

A young maid hurried toward us, bowing deeply. "Welcome home, sir."

Raymond whispered something to her, his tone low. Then, without another word, he disappeared down the hall.

The maid turned to me and gave a small bow. "Mr. Shaw has instructed me to show you your room and give you a tour of the house."

I nodded numbly, following her through the endless hallways.

She pointed out different rooms as we passed-the grand library filled with books I'd probably never touch, the massive kitchen where chefs prepared gourmet meals, and the elegant dining hall that looked like it belonged in a palace.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door and pushed it open.

"This is your room, ma'am."

I stepped inside, and for the first time that day, I felt genuine surprise.

The bedroom was huge. A king-size bed with silk sheets, a walk-in closet filled with expensive dresses, a balcony overlooking a beautiful garden. It was a room fit for royalty and yet, I felt nothing but emptiness.

A guard entered, placing my suitcase on the floor before exiting without a word. The maid hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to say something, but in the end, she simply bowed and left, closing the door behind her.

The room was silent.

I exhaled slowly and sank onto the bed, my wedding dress pooling around me. I stared at the ceiling, my mind racing.

This was my life now.

I turned my head toward my suitcase, forcing myself to move. I unzipped it, pulling out my belongings, placing them in the wardrobe even though I knew none of this mattered. These weren't my choices. My life was no longer my own.

After a while, I picked up my phone and turned it on. A flood of missed calls.

My heart clenched as I saw Timothy's name over and over. My fingers trembled as I played the voicemails.

"Babe, what the hell is going on? Why are people saying you're married to Raymond Shaw?"

Another one.

"Call me back. Please."

And another.

"I tried talking to your parents but they refused to let me in, please; come back."

My throat tightened. I wanted to call him, to explain everything, to beg him to take me away from this nightmare.

But it was too late.

Tears blurred my vision as I clutched the phone to my chest.

I curled up on the bed, exhaustion washing over me.

I don't remember when sleep took me, but when I woke up, the room was dark. My body felt heavy, my heart even heavier.

Then I heard it, the soft creak of my bedroom door opening.

I froze, footsteps, Slow and deliberate.

A shadow moved toward my bed, and before I could react, a hand grabbed my chin, tilting my face up.

Raymond.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness, his grip firm but not painful. His lips curved into a smirk. "Welcome home, wife."

I swallowed hard, my pulse hammering in my ears.

His fingers traced my jawline before he leaned down, his breath hot against my ear.

"Come downstairs for dinner."

And with that, he released me and walked away, leaving me trembling in the dark.