Chapter 3

We returned to the penthouse. The silence was back, heavier than before. Harrison dismissed me with a wave of his hand, and I walked on unsteady legs to my room. It was a gilded cage, filled with beautiful things I didn't want. I stripped off the black gown, letting it fall to the floor like a shed skin. In the large, ornate bathroom, I ran a hot bath, hoping the steam would soothe the ache in my muscles and the turmoil in my mind.

My body was a map of his ownership, marked with fading bruises. I touched the tender spot on my ribs, the memory of the kick a dull throb. I felt fragile, breakable. The girl who used to laugh with customers and count tips at the end of a long shift was gone. In her place was this hollowed-out version of myself, learning to survive moment by moment.

I was toweling my hair dry when the door opened without a knock. Harrison stood there, dressed in a black silk robe. He walked toward me, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"I don't like being challenged, Scarlett," he said, his voice a soft threat.

He stopped in front of me, so close I could feel the heat coming off his body. He reached out and took the towel from my hands, tossing it aside. He ran his fingers through my damp hair, his touch sending a shiver of fear down my spine.

"That uniform," he murmured, his gaze distant. "The Admiral. It reminds me of your father. So full of honor. So naive."

He pushed me back against the cold marble wall, his hands on my shoulders. It wasn't violent, but it was controlling. He was pinning me, reminding me of my place. It was a different kind of assault, a psychological one, meant to strip me bare emotionally as well as physically.

"You belong to me," he whispered, his lips close to my ear. "No one can help you. No one can take you away."

He held me there in the darkness of the bathroom, lit only by the faint glow from the bedroom. In that moment, with his face so close to mine, I saw it again. A flicker of something raw and unguarded in his eyes. It wasn't just control or cruelty. It was pain. A deep, profound vulnerability that he hid beneath layers of power and rage. He was a man drowning, and he was trying to pull me under with him.

The next day, Maria found me again. She looked even more worried than usual.

"I shouldn't be telling you this," she said, wringing her hands. "But you deserve to know. You need to be careful."

We sat in a small, sunlit alcove, a place Harrison never entered.

"It's about his past," she began, her voice low. "He doesn't talk about it, but his father... his father was a monster. He did things to Damien, terrible things. He was raised to believe that love and pain were the same thing. That control was the only way to keep from getting hurt."

She told me about a childhood devoid of affection, filled instead with brutal discipline and impossible expectations. His father had been a powerful, ruthless man, just like Harrison, but without any of the hidden torment. He had forged his son in a crucible of fear and violence.

"And your father," Maria continued, "Commander Hayes was one of the few people who ever showed Damien any kindness. They served together, a long time ago, on a covert mission. Your father saved his life. I think... I think Damien worshipped him. And when your father turned his back on him, chose his principles over their partnership... it broke something inside him. He can't forgive him for it. And he can't let you go, because you're the last piece of your father he has left."

The story settled in my gut like a stone. It didn't excuse his cruelty, but it explained it. He wasn't just punishing me. He was re-enacting a tragedy, with me playing my father's part.

Just then, my phone rang. It was the hospital. My mother had taken a turn for the worse. Her doctor' s voice was grave. I needed to come. Immediately.

Panic seized me. I ran from the room, searching for Harrison. I found him in his office, on the phone, conducting a business deal worth millions.

"I have to go," I said, my voice trembling. "My mother. It's an emergency."

He held up a hand, silencing me, continuing his conversation as if I wasn't there. When he finally hung up, he looked at me, his face cold.

"No," he said simply.

"What? You don't understand. She could be dying!"

"You are not leaving this building," he stated, his voice flat and final.

"You can't do this," I pleaded, tears welling in my eyes. "Please, Damien."

His eyes flashed with a terrifying rage. In two strides, he was in front of me. He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You will not leave me," he snarled, his face a mask of primal fear and fury. "Ever." He shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward into a chair.

I stared at him, my heart breaking. For my mother. For myself. I had to get out. I had to see her.

I waited until nightfall. I packed nothing. I just needed to get out. As I slipped out of my room and headed for the service elevator, I passed by his office. The door was ajar. He was talking to someone on the phone.

"Yes, the Admiral took the bait," Harrison was saying, a low chuckle in his voice. "He thinks he's her white knight. Let him. It keeps him occupied." There was a pause. "Of course the auction was a setup. I needed to see who she'd choose. And she chose me."

My blood ran cold. The auction. The Admiral's offer. It had all been a performance orchestrated by him. A test of my loyalty. A game to manipulate a good man who was only trying to help. He wasn't just a monster. He was a master puppeteer, and we were all just strings in his hands.