Chapter 2

A few days later, Harrison' s assistant, a woman named Maria with kind eyes and a perpetually worried expression, found me in the library. I was trying to read, but the words swam on the page. My ribs still ached with every breath.

"Mr. Harrison has arranged for this," she said softly, placing a thick envelope on the table.

I stared at it, suspicious.

"It's about your mother," Maria explained, her voice barely a whisper. "The new treatment. It's been paid for. In full. He also arranged for a private room. The best one they have."

I opened the envelope. Inside were receipts and hospital documents, all confirming what she said. I was stunned. This wasn't control. This was... help. It was a calculated act of kindness, designed to confuse me, to keep me off balance. It was a reminder that he was the source of both my pain and my salvation.

"Why?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

Maria just shook her head, her eyes full of pity. "I don't know. He just told me to take care of it." She left me there, holding the proof of his twisted generosity.

He wanted me alive. He wanted me healthy. He had a plan for me, and my survival was part of it. I looked down at the bruises still faintly visible on my arms. The hatred I felt for him was a steady fire in my chest. He could pay for my mother's care a hundred times over, it would never buy my forgiveness. He wanted me to be his possession, a trophy won from a dead man. I would play the part, for now. For my mother. But I would never forget.

That weekend, he informed me we were attending a charity auction. It was one of the city's biggest social events, held in a grand ballroom dripping with chandeliers and old money. He had a dress laid out for me, a simple, elegant black gown that felt like a costume.

"You will stay by my side," he commanded as we stood in the foyer of the penthouse. "You will smile. You will not speak unless spoken to."

The ballroom was a sea of glittering jewels and fake smiles. Harrison moved through the crowd with an easy confidence, a predator in his natural habitat. People deferred to him, their respect laced with fear. I was just an accessory on his arm, my smile a tight, painful mask.

Then, the main event of the auction began. The item up for bid was a rare manuscript, a personal diary from a 19th-century explorer. It was bound in worn leather, its pages filled with faded ink. As soon as it was presented, I saw a change in Harrison. A flicker of intense desire lit up his eyes. He wanted it. Not for its monetary value, but for what it represented. Possession. History. A story he could own.

The bidding started high and climbed quickly. Harrison was a calm, relentless force, his hand raising with understated authority. Then, a new voice joined the fray.

"One million dollars."

A man stood up from a table across the room. He was handsome, with a military bearing and eyes that seemed to see right through the room's facade. He looked directly at Harrison, a challenge in his gaze.

"Admiral Roberts," Harrison said, his voice a low growl. "I didn't know you were a collector."

"There are some things worth fighting for, Damien," the Admiral replied, his voice carrying across the silent room. He wasn't just bidding on the diary. He was bidding for something else. His eyes flickered to me for a fraction of a second. He knew who I was. He must have known my father.

The Admiral then addressed me directly, ignoring Harrison. "Ms. Hayes. Your father was a great man. If you ever need anything, anything at all, my door is always open."

It was a lifeline, thrown across a sea of enemies. Harrison's grip on my arm tightened, his knuckles white. The air crackled with tension. He was being challenged, his ownership of me questioned in front of everyone.

"One and a half million," Harrison said, his eyes locked on the Admiral.

"Two million," Admiral Roberts countered without hesitation. "And a standing offer of protection for Commander Hayes's daughter."

The room was completely still. Everyone was watching. It was my choice. I could take the Admiral's offer, create a public scene, and escape. But I thought of my mother, alone in that hospital room he paid for. I thought of the power he wielded, the kind that could crush a man like the Admiral with a single phone call. Fleeing now would be a death sentence for her.

I turned my head and looked up at Harrison. I gave him a small, almost imperceptible nod. I chose him. I chose the devil I knew.

A slow, triumphant smile spread across Harrison's face. He looked at Admiral Roberts, his eyes gleaming with victory.

"The young lady has made her choice," Harrison said smoothly. He didn't bid again. He didn't need to. He had already won the prize he truly wanted. He put his hand on the small of my back, a gesture of pure possession. "I am all the protection she needs."

As we left the ballroom, leaving the Admiral standing there with a look of profound disappointment, I felt a wave of confusion. Why did he want me to choose him so publicly? What was this game he was playing? His actions were a constant storm of cruelty and calculation, and I was trapped in the eye of it. I didn't understand him, and that ignorance was the most dangerous thing of all.