His Forbidden Canary: Escaping The Contract

"Annabel, lift your head." Julian Sharpe sat on the velvet sofa across from her, legs crossed, his gaze moving over her like he was checking for flaws.

Annabel's body went rigid. Her bare feet were cold against the marble floor, a stark contrast to the ridiculous Dior evening gown she was forced to wear. It didn't fit. She tightened her grip on the skirt's fabric.

Slowly, she raised her head. Her face was pale, but exquisitely beautiful, her blue eyes filled with a suppressed terror and humiliation.

A smile touched Julian's lips, but it never reached his eyes. "That's better. Remember your place. You're the canary I paid for, so act like one." He swirled the red wine in his glass.

"Look at the former Beaumont princess, standing here just to please me." His words struck her heart, reminding her of her family's bankruptcy, her father's imprisonment, and the contract that trapped her here.

Annabel's fingernails dug deep into her palms, the bite of her own nails the only anchor against the nausea rising in her throat.

"Turn around. Let me see." Julian issued a new command, his tone light and dismissive.

Her body moved stiffly, a humiliating, robotic rotation. The wide skirt swept across the empty living room. Her gaze caught on a modern painting on the wall, its jarring colors making her dizzy. She nearly lost her balance.

Julian let out a low laugh, letting the silence stretch before he spoke again.

Annabel steadied herself, her eyes downcast. Her long lashes cast two dark shadows on her cheeks.

For Dad, she told herself. I have to endure this. It was her only belief, the only reason she could stomach any of this.

"Come here." Julian held out his hand. It wasn't an invitation. It was an order.

Every step felt like walking on knives as she moved slowly toward him.

She could smell his expensive cologne mixed with the rich scent of wine. It made her stomach churn with a physical revulsion.

Just as her fingertips were about to touch his, he snatched his hand away.

Annabel's body pitched forward with the momentum, and she almost fell.

He laughed again, delighted by his little prank.

She caught the edge of the sofa to steady herself. The room spun. Humiliating tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back, refusing to let them fall.

"A boring game." Julian seemed to lose interest. He stood up, adjusting the cuffs of his suit.

He walked to her, grabbing her chin and forcing her head up. "Remember, Annabel, from the moment you signed that contract, you have no dignity left."

His thumb brushed roughly across her lips, his eyes filled with raw possession.

She trembled with fear but stubbornly refused to close her eyes.

At that moment, in a quiet study at the other end of the villa, Landon Carlisle was in the middle of an overseas video conference. His cold, gray eyes were focused on the screen, his entire being radiating an unapproachable aura.

His personal phone vibrated on the desk, but he ignored it.

When the meeting ended, he wearily loosened his tie and picked up the phone. He saw an encrypted message from his butler, Mr. Watkins.

He opened it. The message was just one sentence:

"Mr. Carlisle, Mr. Sharpe brought a 'guest' to the villa. He's calling her a 'canary.'"

Landon's jaw tightened. His eyes went flat, cold. He knew his lawless cousin was causing trouble again.

He grabbed his jacket from the desk and strode out of the study. He had only one destination - his villa in Beverly Hills, the one Julian was currently staying in.

Landon's black Bentley pulled in low and quiet along the villa's private driveway, stopping in the shadows some distance from the main house.

He didn't get out immediately. He sat in the car, his gaze sweeping over the brightly lit villa, cataloging every lit window.

His eyes landed on the garage. Julian's flashy red Ferrari was parked there, the door left carelessly ajar, a testament to its owner's impatience.

The corner of Landon's mouth twitched. He took out his signature metal lighter, flicking it open and closed, the sharp click-clack sound echoing in the quiet car.

A suppressed, struggling whimper drifted on the night breeze. It was faint, but it pierced Landon's ears with precision.

The clicking stopped. Landon went still, listening. He pushed the car door open, his tall figure slipping into the darkness.

He didn't use the front door. He circled around to the side of the villa, toward the garage. The side door was ajar, a sliver of light escaping through the crack.

Landon approached silently, peering inside.

The scene made him stop cold. Julian was roughly pressing Annabel against the hood of his Ferrari, trying to rip the gaudy dress from her body.

Her face was streaked with tears and terror. Her hands pushed uselessly against his assault, desperate pleas escaping her lips.

"Let me go... Julian, please... The contract didn't say this..." Her voice was broken and weak.

"The contract?" Julian sneered. "I am the contract. Here, I make the rules!" He increased the force of his grip.

Landon's jaw tightened as he took in the scene. He recognized the girl. She was the Beaumont's daughter, the one he'd seen at a charity gala three months ago, surrounded by admirers.

He had no interest in saving damsels in distress. But he would not tolerate Julian committing such a filthy, disgusting act on his property. This was about the Carlisle family's decency.

He didn't rush in. A direct confrontation would only make things worse and reveal his presence.

He silently retreated to his car, his expression giving nothing away.

He sat back in the driver's seat. His hand moved to the center of the steering wheel. Then, he pressed down. Hard.

"BEEEEEP-!"

A sharp, piercing, continuous car horn blast shattered the dead silence of the estate like a thunderclap.

Inside the garage, Julian's movements froze. Startled by the sudden noise, his face twisted with annoyance and suspicion.

Annabel seized the opportunity. With all her strength, she shoved him away and scrambled to the other side of the garage, panting like a frightened deer.

Julian cursed, straightening his disheveled clothes. He peered out of the garage, but the darkness was absolute. He saw nothing.

The horn stopped as suddenly as it had begun, almost like a hallucination.

Landon watched as Julian stomped out of the garage, looked around, and finally returned to the villa, having found nothing.

Only then did Landon slowly start the engine, driving smoothly up the main driveway to the front entrance.

A few minutes later, as Julian was still fuming in the living room, the front door opened. The butler, Mr. Watkins, respectfully led a man inside.

"Good evening, Julian." Landon Carlisle's voice was quiet, but it held an undeniable authority.

Julian saw Landon, and the anger on his face froze, replaced by surprise and a flicker of fear. "Landon? What are you doing here?"

Landon's gaze passed over him, landing on the trembling, huddled figure in the corner.

He saw her terrified blue eyes, like cornflowers battered by rain. The sight of them sent an inexplicable wave of irritation through him.

Landon's gaze lingered on Annabel for only a second before shifting back to Julian. When he spoke, his voice was flat.

"Do I need to report to you when I come to my own home, Julian?" The question landed in the space between them. No one moved.

Julian's face turned ugly. He forced a smile. "Of course not. I was just... surprised."

Landon took off his jacket and handed it to Mr. Watkins, then walked directly to the single armchair in the center of the living room-the seat of power in the space-and sat down.

After sitting, he didn't look at Julian again. He stared at the flames in the fireplace, letting the silence settle, as if the other two people in the room didn't exist.

The silent pressure made Julian extremely uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the situation.

"What brings you out so late?" Julian tried to make his voice sound casual.

Landon didn't answer. He picked up the cigar box on the table, selected one, and clipped the end with a silver cutter.

His every move was calm and unhurried, a stark contrast to Julian's agitation.

"And who is this young lady?" Landon finally spoke, his eyes still on the cigar in his hand, as if it were a casual question.

A look of smugness immediately appeared on Julian's face. This was his chance to score a point.

"Oh, her?" Julian walked over and roughly pulled the cowering Annabel to her feet.

Annabel let out a short cry of surprise, forced into Landon's line of sight. She felt so ashamed she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

"Let me introduce you to my... new pet." Julian's tone was light, dismissive, as if he were presenting a trinket.

Landon's hand, which was lighting the cigar, paused. He finally lifted his eyes, his cold gray gaze locking onto Julian.

"Pet?" Landon repeated the word, his voice betraying no emotion.

Julian felt a chill from his stare, but for the sake of his pride, he pushed on. "Yes, a rather disobedient little canary. But she has a more interesting identity."

He leaned closer to Landon, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "You'll never guess. She's Annabel Beaumont, the daughter of the Beaumont family that went bankrupt three months ago."

Landon's expression didn't change, as if the name meant nothing to him.

Julian was disappointed, but he had a bigger bomb to drop. "And, she used to be my fiancée."

The words hung in the air, and the room seemed to freeze.

Annabel's face turned deathly white. It was her most humiliating past, now being so casually exposed in public by Julian.

The lighter in Landon's hand snapped shut with a click. He had finally lit the cigar. White smoke blurred the expression on his face.

He took a drag, slowly exhaling a smoke ring before speaking. "Is that so? Then why is she here now?"

Julian shrugged, triumphant. "Just a family alliance charade. Now that their family is finished, the engagement is naturally off. But I'm a sentimental guy. I saw how pitiful she was, so I signed a new contract with her, giving her a chance to... 'work' off the debt."

He deliberately emphasized the word "work," the implication clear.

Annabel trembled, every word from Julian a slow, torturous cut to her dignity.

Landon was silent for a moment. Then he stood up, his tall frame casting a massive shadow.

He walked toward Annabel, but his eyes were fixed on Julian. "I don't like having unclear people in my villa. Have her leave. Or, you leave with her."

His words were absolute, his first clear intervention in Annabel's situation.