Bounded by Moonlight

Selene is looking at the incomplete canvas in front of her as she gently removes the final streak of paint from her fingertips. The tempest raging in her mind is reflected in swirls of deep blue and grey that bleed together in a chaotic symphony. Except for the distant hum of the city beyond her window, the studio was quiet. On the corner of her desk were piles of bills, unopened letters with demands she couldn't afford to meet. In addition to leaving a huge void in her life, her father's passing had also left her drowning in debts she was unaware of.

A sharp knock at the door startled her, interrupting her thoughts. Her heart pounded as she walked over, hesitating for just a moment before pulling it open. Two men in sleek black suits stood there, their presence too imposing for simple couriers. Their expressions were blank, their movements precise as if they were trained for more than simple delivery work. "Miss Whitmore," the taller of the two said, his voice deep and impersonal. "You are requested to accompany us immediately." Selene frowned. "Requested by who?" One of them reached into his coat and pulled out a pristine white envelope, sealed with a gold emblem, an insignia she recognized immediately. Blackwood Industries.

She shuddered as she read the word, "Blackwood". Damien Blackwood. In corporate circles, a man was whispered about with equal parts terror and reverence. At least she was unaware of a man with whom she had no business. Selene took the envelope after hesitating. Her stomach dropped when she opened it and read the words.

"You are now responsible for paying off your father's debt. This is your one chance to resolve it. Visit Blackwood Tower urgently."

~Damien Blackwood.

Furiously, Selene's fingers tightened around the page. She wasn't sure if she should be upset with Blackwoods or her father. This must have been an error of some sort. With clinched teeth, she declared, "I owe the Blackwoods nothing, especially Damien."

The two men exchanged a look before the shorter one spoke, his voice eerily calm.

"This is not an invitation, Miss Whitmore."

The silent threat in his words sent a chill through her. She could run. She could fight. But deep down, Selene knew the truth, there was no escaping the Blackwoods. Squaring her shoulders, she exhaled sharply and stepped outside.

"Take me to him."

Driving across the city like a predator pursuing its prey, Selene sat rigidly in the backseat of the fancy black car. Although the tinted windows provided her with protection from the outside world, the space felt more like a cage than a shell. While driving, the two guys who had come for her remained silent, their demeanour cunning and frigid. She cradled the letter in her lap and read it again and again in the hopes that she had misread it, but it didn't change every time she read it.

Before Selene could even finish processing the situation, the car pulled into a special underground entrance that led to the tall Blackwood Tower. Standing taller than any other building in the city, it was a shining monument to power that she had previously seen in the distance. She felt unimportant and unworthy, as she saw well dressed business gurus inside the building wearing designer clothes and shoes, while she was with overalls and little red paint on her hair. When the doors opened as she was led inside. She was carried to the top floor in spooky silence by a sleek lift that swallowed her whole. She had never seen an office like the one that opened as the doors slid open. The room was filled with floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the sparkling city lights below. Soft lighting illuminated the dark marble floors, and at the far end was a huge desk with its owner standing behind it, looking out over the city skyline. Blackwood, Damien.

Selene had never met him before, yet his presence was impossible to misinterpret. He had broad shoulders and a tall build, and his black suit fit him perfectly. When he finally turned to face her, his sharp grey eyes met hers like a predator assessing its prey, and his dark hair was tousled and perfectly combed. Selene gasped for air nervously. His eyes had an ageless sharpness, as if he had lived a hundred lifetimes and trusted no one in any of them, even though he was younger than she had anticipated-perhaps in his early thirties.

"Miss Whitmore." His voice was silky, yet there was no warmth in it. "You're late." "I didn't know I had a meeting." She spoke tremblingly. He moved to the centre of his office and sat on his leather sofa and motioned her to sit across from him. "You do now." He carefully and slowly moved a folder across the coffee table in her direction. " I believe you know why you're here" he uttered. "It's not simply memories your father left behind, Miss Whitmore. He owed someone money. And a pretty big one at that." He leaned back.

Selene swallowed, forcing herself to peek at the papers. Her father's signature was there, committing him to a loan far beyond anything she could ever repay. "How is this even possible?" She muttered. "I was unaware of this." "Then he was good at keeping his secrets." Damien's voice was unreadable. "But the debt exists. And since he is no longer here to pay it, that responsibility falls to you, Miss Whitmore." Her heart pounded. "I don't have this kind of money, its going to take decades for me to get this amount." "I know." "Then why bring me here?"

"There is only one way for you to repay this debt," Damien said, rising from his seat with deliberate, slow steps. He motioned behind her. She hardly had time to catch her breath and process the huge amount of money before he said the words that would rock her world: "You will marry me."

She had a lump in her throat. "Has he just said to get married?" She thought aloud. Her gaze returned to Damien's face as she looked for any indication that this was a nasty prank or some sort of joke. However, he maintained a stone-carved, unflappable visage, as though her response were just a foreseeable annoyance. Her voice was hardly audible above a whisper as she continued, "You can't be serious." "Miss Whitmore, I don't joke."

Selene's stomach twisted. "You expect me to marry you, to become your wife, because of some debt my father owed?" Damien walked over to his desk, sitting on his executive chair. "I expect you to uphold his obligation, as his heiress." She shook her head, her face heating up. "This is insane!" She said, her voice dying in her throat. "This debt is twenty million dollars." Twenty million? No wonder her father had never spoken about it. He knew there was no way out. Selene got up and retreated a step back towards the door, shaking her head.

"There must be an alternative." "There isn't." Damien spoke in a cool, straightforward, and firm tone. "You lack the funds." There is nothing you can do to stop this. However, I'm giving you an escape route. She screamed, "How in the hell is forced marriage a 'way out'?" "You'll be looked after. No more worrying about money, no more debt, no more fighting to pay the rent. I just need your cooperation." She detested the steady tone of his voice and the way he presented the proposal as though it were a straightforward everyday business deal. Selene gave him a fierce look. "What do you gain from this?" He stood up, walked over to her, and said, "Miss Whitmore, that's not your concern."

A shiver went through her body. She ought to have fled. She had no way out of this situation, yet the reality was like a razor at her throat. She took a deep breath. "I need time to reflect." Damien straightened up and filled the room with his presence. "You have until tomorrow." With a sharp exhale, Selene clutched the contract in her trembling hands. There was no decision made here. It was a sentence.

Leaving Blackwood Tower was hardly a memory for Selene. As she entered the dark sedan, her body moved automatically, her mind still reeling from Damien's demand. The truth of her situation hit her like a crashing wave by the time she arrived at her small flat. Twenty million dollars! No work, no miracle, could take that number out of the world.

Selene hardly remembered how she got home, and by the time she staggered into her small apartment, her hands were still shaking from holding the contract, the words burning into her mind: Twenty million dollars. A marriage proposal. No way out. Panic clawed at her chest as she gripped her phone with trembling fingers and dialled Ava Carter, the only person she could trust. Ava's voice was filled with concern the moment she picked it up and heard Selene say, "Hello," "Selene? What's wrong? Selene"

Selene let out a trembling breath. "I need you." After a little period of silence, Ava firmly stated, "I'm coming over." After fifteen minutes, Selene's door flung open, and Ava rushed in with worried eyes. Her black, curly hair was twisted back in an untidy bun, and she was still wearing her barista costume, which smelt of coffee and vanilla. "What on earth went wrong?" Ava threw her luggage on the couch and demanded. Selene took a deep breath and passed the contract to him. "Go through it." Ava's gaze flitted across the pages. She grew pallid as she continued to read. Her face was a mix of incredulity and rage when she eventually looked up.

"Is this a joke, please?" Selene chuckled dryly. "I hope it is." The contract was smashed upon the table by Ava. "Damien Blackwood desires your marriage? About a debt your dad had? Is this some sort of mediaeval nonsense? Selene's face was buried in her hands. "Ava, I'm not sure! However, I lack the funds. And I'm not sure what he'll do to me if I don't sign this. Ava paced with her arms folded. "We'll figure something else out. There must be an alternative.

Ava reached for her laptop and began typing frantically. "All right, let's be sensible. We'll find him the money he wants. crowdfunding. loans. grants. Anything." That glimmer of hope was all that Selene had left. "All right. Someone must be prepared to assist." They looked for hours, texting former family members and phoning banks. Applications for loans were turned down. Opportunities for grants were months away. Instead of money, family friends sent condolences. Selene's hope was eroded by each dead end until reality struck her. Nobody was there. There was no escape.

Ava slammed the laptop shut. "I detest this. I detest the way he is cornering you." Selene fought back the tears. "I agree with you." Ava took her hands in hers. "This is not necessary for you to do, Sel. There must be another option. We'll come up with something else"- "Ava, nothing else is there!" Selene's tone broke. "No one will give me a twenty-million dollar loan! Furthermore, who can predict what Damien Blackwood will do to me if I don't sign?"

Ava's mouth quivered. Like Selene, she detested this. But the truth was known to both of them. Damien didn't hesitate to ask. With a quiver, Selene exhaled. "I believe I have to do this." Ava tightened her jaw "Then you hold him accountable. You make it through. Don't allow him to break you." Selene took a deep breath. She no longer believed that she could survive and get away from this situation she found herself in. She was about to make a huge choice thats going to turn her life around. She still cant believe its about to happen.

And so, with a trembling hand, she signed the contract. Two days later, she became Mrs. Selene Blackwood.

Standing in a large, impersonal, and frigid room within Blackwood Manor, Selene gazed at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. She was shocked to learn that today was her wedding day. Just the previous day she was morning her dad and thinking of how to get by, and now shes a wife. Even though the bridal dress was gorgeous as if falls perfectly to the floor, with its elaborate white lace and satin pattern, she felt like a fake wearing it. No bridesmaids. No flowers. Not a guest. She felt more like a prisoner than a bride. "They are ready for you" a maid said." interrupting her thoughts.

Standing in front of the judge, Damien hired to officiate the wedding in his office at the Blackwood manor. They both exchanged meaningless vows. "Damien Blackwood, do you consider Selene Whitmore to be your legal wife, to love and hold. In sickness and health, till death do you part?" "I do." His tone was calm and emotionless, as if this whole ceremony was just an ordinary business deal. As the judge looked at Selene, she swallowed. "And, Selene Whitmore, do you take Damien Blackwood-" She shouted out, "I do," before her nerves could turn on her. The words sealed her fate, forever? She thought.

Selene braced herself, expecting the press of his lips-some token gesture of possession-when Damien slid a cool, pricey ring onto her finger. The weight of it felt oppressive. "You may kiss the bride." Damien didn't kiss her; instead, he simply slid his dark, unreadable gaze over her before turning to the judge. "It's done," he said, his voice like steel. "We're finished here." Selene blinked. Was that it? That was all.

Not a party. No wedding night. No hushed assurances of eternity. She had been claimed by Damien Blackwood as a contract rather than a wife. Selene was standing there in a wedding gown that felt more like a prison uniform when he left the room without saying anything else. As the attendants led her through Blackwood Manor's opulent corridors, Selene hardly noticed. The mansion was a combination of eerie quiet and old-world beauty, and it was astonishingly large. The walls were tall and dark mahogany, with oil portraits of anonymous ancestors observing her every action. Flickering shadows were created by crystal chandeliers, and the oppressive silence felt out of place.

It is beautiful. It is a prison. It is her new home. "This will be your room, ma'am," the housekeeper, Mrs. Hawthorne, said in a hushed voice. Selene glanced inside. It was lavish, far more than she'd ever had-plush bedding, a carved fireplace, a balcony overlooking the endless forest behind the estate. And yet, it wasn't his room. They wouldn't be sleeping together. Selene turned to ask a question, but before she could speak, the older woman hesitated, fixing her gaze down the hall, where a single door stood closed at the very end of the hallway. Something about it sent a chill down Selene's spine. "What's in there?" Mrs. Hawthorne's face drained of color. "That room is off-limits, ma'am." Selene frowned. "Why?" "It is the Master's private quarters. No one is allowed in."

Selene felt a chill run down her spine, what is so special about that room? What is in there? Whats going on in this house? All these questions blurred her thoughts. But before she could press any farther, a deep voice cut through the air, saying, "That door stays locked. Always." Selene froze, as she saw her newly wedded husband standing in the shadows of the hallway, his face unreadable, his tailored suit immaculate as if the events of the evening had not affected him in the least. His grey eyes burned into her, waiting for an answer. Selene swallowed. "I wasn't planning on going inside." His expression remained unreadable. "Good."

"I came to inform you that this is your home now," he remarked plainly. "And they are some rules, you are to abide by the rules." Selene scowled. "Rules?" "Yes, Mrs. Blackwood." Mrs. Hawthorne remarked sternly. Selene shuddered when she heard the title. Blackwood, Mrs Blackwood. It was Mrs. Hawthorne who came forward. "Yes, ma'am, there are regulations that must be adhered to. At precisely seven o'clock, breakfast is served. Don't be late. And at two-fifteen lunch will be served and dinner at seven pm. There is no access to the east wing. Ring the staff if you need anything, we are at your service. Additionally, you are not allowed to enter the west tower under any circumstances. And from ten o'clock at night, you are espected to be in your room untill the next morning. You are not allowed to leave you chambers after ten at night" Selene's heartbeat accelerated "A curfew?" She screamed out. "Why so many restrictions? What is in the east wing?" The iron-wrought door at the end of a long, dimly illuminated hallway.

Before she could even ask Damien,"You'll be staying here. You won't be in my quarters. i hope your room is to your liking." Damien said. His voice was flat and final, and Selene's fingers curled. He hadn't touched her since the wedding, and he hadn't even given her the proper husbandly glance. What kind of marriage was this? Selene's room was opulent, but it felt more like a guest suite than a wife's quarters; it had a big canopy bed, a fireplace, and a window that overlooked the expansive Blackwood estate. Everything was immaculate and unused.

Her chest constricted as she ran her fingertips over the furnishings. So it would be like this. She was merely his legal wife. A gentle knock on the door interrupted her while she was unpacking. Entering, Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes were unreadable. "In an hour, dinner will be served. Mr. Blackwood likes to be on time." Selene paused. "Is this how he always acts?" The maid tensed up. She stated cautiously, "He is a busy man." Selene's eyes narrowed. "That's not what i asked." Mrs. Hawthorne's face briefly flashed something-fear?-before she bowed a little. "Ma'am, get ready for dinner." Then she turned, and hurried away. Selene let out a slow breath. Everybody in this house was being extremely cautious, as if working on eggshells. Why?