Married To A Cassanova Billionaire

I sat among the bevy of ladies who had made my stay here a living hell. Their laughter was sharp, merciless, and unrelenting, piercinginto my ears. Each chuckle was a weapon, a reminder that I didn't belong here. I didn't know when their hatred began or why I had become their target, but I had learned quickly that their cruelty wasn't a passing thing-it was as permanent as the bars on the windows and the locks on the doors.

Their whispers circled me like vultures, dissecting every part of me. My clothes, my face, my silence-they tore it all apart, feeding off the scraps of my dignity. My life has never been the same since I stepped foot into the coven of witches. My hands rested in my lap, trembling slightly, though I tried to keep them still. I had learned not to react. Reacting only made it worse. Still, the weight of their mockery pressed down on me, each insult like another stone added to the pile I was already struggling to carry.

Suddenly, a voice boomed through the room, cutting through the cacophony like a blade. "Does anyone know Thelma?" The mockery evident in her voice.

The room went quiet for a split second before erupting into a chorus of mocking replies.

"No!" the women shouted in unison, their voices loud and defiant. Their denial wasn't just an answer; it was an assault, a collective effort to erase me forever. The word slammed into me like coal, burning and unrelenting.

I froze in place, my chest tightening as though invisible hands were squeezing the air out of me. My name was not a comfort here. It wasn't even mine anymore. It had become something they used against me, a weapon wielded with scorn to make me feel smaller and more insignificant with every passing day.

My heart pounded in my chest as the room fell into silent again. The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and all eyes turned toward the entrance. A police officer barged into the cell, pulling me out by my arm.

"You're hurting me." I complained.

"Quiet" he scolded, the ladies crashed out laughters that seemed to have no end.

While Outside, I saw a man and a woman stepped inside, their presence commanding attention like a sudden gust of wind in a suffocating room.

The man's face was unreadable, his sharp jaw and piercing eyes giving nothing away. His suit was dark and neatly pressed, a stark contrast to the disarray of this place. Beside him, the woman carried a softer air. Her scarf draped loosely over her shoulders, and her warm brown eyes locked on me almost instantly. There was a calmness about her, a quiet strength that seemed to fill the space around her.

"Thelma," the man said, his voice firm but not unkind. It wasn't a question; it was a statement, pulling me out of my frozen state like a rope pulling me from a deep well.

"How did you know my name" I murmured.

I trembled, slowly walking close to them, scraping loudly against the floor in the silence that followed. My movements felt sluggish, as if my body couldn't quite believe what was happening. Around me, the mocking grins and sneering faces of the officers began to falter. The air shifted, the atmosphere heavy with confusion and disbelief.

Who were these people? Why were they here for me? My thoughts raced, a hundred questions flooding my mind all at once. Relief and suspicion warred within me as I tried to process what was unfolding.

Has God sent angels to save me.

The woman stepped forward, her hand reaching out toward me. "We're here to take you home," she said softly, her voice like a balm soothing the frayed edges of my nerves.

Home.

The word struck a chord deep inside me, stirring something I thought I'd lost a long time ago. But a pang of uncertainty quickly followed. I didn't know these people neither did I have any home. Their faces were unfamiliar, and their sudden appearance felt surreal, almost too good to be true.

"Who are you?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

The man glanced at the woman, and for a brief moment, something unspoken passed between them. Then he turned back to me, his gaze steady. "It's a long story, Thelma," he said. "But we're here to help."

His words didn't answer my question, but there was something about the way he said them that made me want to believe him. Maybe it was the calm assurance in his voice, or maybe it was the sheer exhaustion of the torture and torment I faced each passing day. Either way, I found myself nodding, though I still felt the weight of doubt pressing against the edges of my mind.

The two officers who had been standing silently near the entrance of the station stepped aside, allowing the three of us to pass. As we walked out, the whispers of some deputies who felt I deserved whatever I had been through rose behind me again, though they sounded more confused than cruel now. I didn't look back. I couldn't. The air outside the room felt lighter, freer, though my heart still pounded in my chest.

The woman placed a gentle hand on my arm as we walked down the corridor. "You're safe now," she said quietly. "We'll explain everything soon."

Her words were meant to reassure me, but they only added to my confusion. Safe? How? I don't understand! I wasn't even sure what that meant anymore.

When we stepped outside, the cool breeze hit my face, and I realized how long it had been since I'd felt fresh air. The man led the way to a black car parked near the gate, its sleek exterior gleaming under the afternoon sun. He opened the back door for me, and I slid in hesitantly, the woman following close behind.

As the car pulled away, I glanced back at the building I was leaving behind. For so long, I had been in prison, both literally and figuratively. But even as relief washed over me, I couldn't shake the unease bubbling beneath the surface.

"Where are we going?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

The man glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "Somewhere you can start over," he said simply, smiling like he just won a trophy.

The woman placed a reassuring hand on mine. "We've been looking for you for a long time, Thelma," she said. "You're not alone anymore. We're here for you"

Her words stirred something deep inside me-a mixture of hope and fear. For the first time in years, I allowed myself to believe, to have faith, even if just a little, that maybe, just maybe, things could get better.

As the city blurred past the windows, I leaned back in the seat, my mind still racing. I didn't know who these people were or why they had come for me, but I knew one thing for certain: this was my chance to leave the darkness behind. And no matter what waited for me ahead, it had to be better than the hell I was leaving behind.

I sat still, frozen in a mixture of fear, confusion, and a flicker of hope for brighter days ahead. My thoughts spiraled in every direction, an uncontrollable flood of questions racing through my mind.

Am I in the right place?

Thelma, is this really happening?

Are you supposed to be here?

What will happen now?

Why am I so scared? If they came to save me, then why the silly fuss in my brain.

The questions kept coming, relentless, like a blaze consuming every coherent thought. My chest tightened, and I felt trapped, not just in the moment but in a life that seemed to offer no way out.

I didn't know what to do. Should I scream? Should I try to run, knowing I'd likely end up back in prison, where I had always been treated like nothing-a shadow of my former self? Should I yell for help, hoping someone, anyone, would hear me and care enough to intervene? I was lost, unsure of what the next step should be now.

The silence in the room was suffocating, broken only by the occasional muffled voices coming from the hallway. It wasn't long before the man and the woman returned, this time with a girl probably in her early 20s trailing behind them. She looked upset, her tear-streaked face betraying a deep sadness. She barely glanced at me as she sat down, her posture stiff and uncomfortable.

Who is she?

I wondered. Was she another victim, dragged into this nightmare just as I had been? Or was she part of the strange plan unfolding before me?

I fought the urge to stand up and demand answers, choosing instead to stay seated and observe. My instincts screamed at me to run, but something told me to wait, to listen, to hear them out.

The man cleared his throat, his once calm eyes which has now become cold locked onto mine. "You're here because we need you to do something important for us," he said, his voice measured and deliberate.

I stared at him, my confusion evident. "What could you possibly need from me?" I asked, my voice trembling.

He exchanged a glance with the woman before continuing. "My daughter is supposed to get married to a tycoon's son," he began, nodding toward the younger girl, "because we wanted to seal a very important business deal. But there's.... Huh... a complication."

I raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going.

"The man in question is a lunatic," the woman interjected, her tone matter-of-factly. "He rarely steps outside his house, and when he does, his behavior is unpredictable at best."

"What if they are just rumors". I interjected.

"It's not.... We're serious. It's no rumour".

"It might....", I paused, noticing how red the man's face had turned.

The man sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "We've tried everything to get him to cooperate, but it's impossible. So we-sorry, 'I'-came up with a plan. We need your help."

"Help?" I repeated, still lost.

How could someone like me possibly help these people?

The very fact that they had found me, plucked me out of a prison cell, suggested someone close to me had betrayed me. I felt a surge of anger rising in my chest.

This is unfair, Unruly.

"You'll marry him," the man said bluntly, his words like a slap across my face.

My head jerked up in shock. "Excuse me?" I said, my voice rising. "I don't understand."

"You'll marry him," he repeated. "He's also a notorious womanizer, and I won't stand him cheating on my daughter. Since you were... well, let's call it 'a slut' before going to prison, this arrangement should be easy for you."

His words cut deep, but before I could respond, the girl-their daughter-burst into tears. "But, Dad, I want to marry him!" she wailed, her voice high-pitched and grating. "He's my dream man!"

Dream man? What a chicken.

I turned back to the man, my anger bubbling just beneath the surface. "First of all," I said, my voice trembling with barely contained fury, "how did you even find me? How do you know anything about me or where I've been?"

He smirked, stroking his neatly trimmed mustache with a self-satisfied air. "Someone told us about you," he said casually. "Let's say...... A mutual acquaintance. He told us who you were and where to find you."

My mind raced.

A he... a he... a he... Who?

The betrayal stung even before I could identify its source. Someone I had trusted, or at least someone who knew my darkest secrets, had sold me out without thinking twice.

"The wedding is next week," the man continued, ignoring my obvious distress. "My wife will prepare you for it. All you have to do is accept the arrangement, marry him, stay with him for two week, and then you're free. You'll be paid handsomely for your trouble."

I shook my head, disbelief washing over me. "It's not that easy," I said, my voice cracking under the strain.

"I know," he replied with a faint smile, as if he truly believed he understood.

"No, you don't understand," I said, my voice growing stronger. "You don't know anything. You think you can just pick up a random woman on the word of some 'moron' and marry her off to a stranger? You're out of your mind. Mr... whatever your name is."

The room fell silent, my defiance hanging in the air like a challenge.

The man's smile faded, replaced by an angry, calculating expression. "Wow," he said slowly. "You can be stubborn. But not for long."

He gestured toward the men standing by the door, dressed in dark clothing that made them look more like hired muscle than anything else. "Lock her up," he said flatly, "and don't feed her until she accepts my demands."

Panic surged through me as the men moved toward me. "You can't do this!" I screamed, struggling as they grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. "This is illegal! You can't just-" I choked on my saliva, preventing me from speaking any further.

But my protests fell on deaf ears. The men's grip was like iron, unyielding as they dragged me towards the stairs. I kicked and thrashed, desperate to break free, but it was no use. My heart raced, fear coursing through my veins like fire.

As we reached the hallway, one of the men pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. The moment it touched my nostrils, a sickly sweet smell filled my senses, and everything around me began to blur. My limbs grew heavy, my vision dimming as a wave of dizziness overtook me.

No, This can't be happening.

Darkness swallowed me whole.

_______________________

When I woke, the room was dimly lit, the cold air pricking at my skin. I tried standing up but i was restricted, I saw the reason I couldn't move, my wrists was bound tightly with rope that cut into my flesh. I blinked against the light, my head pounding as I tried to make sense of my surroundings.

It was a small room, bare and unwelcoming, with nothing but a wooden chair and a dusty window that barely let in any light. The sound of muffled voices reached my ears, but I couldn't make out the words.

I pulled at the ropes, my panic growing with each passing second. My mind raced back to the man's chilling words. '"Don't feed her until she accepts my demands."'

I clenched my teeth, anger mixing with fear. This wasn't just a nightmare. It was my reality now, a twisted game where I was the pawn.

But I wasn't going to let them break me. Never.

I took a deep breath, my resolve hardening as I planned my next move. 'Will I survive it here?".

For now, though, all I could do was wait-for strength, for an opening, for a chance to reclaim my life.

The first day in that cold, barren room was agonizing. But it was nothing compared to what followed. At first, it was the silence that suffocated me, pressing down like an invisible weight. Hours passed-though they felt like days-with no food, no water, no sign of what they planned to do. My wrists, raw from the iron cuffs, throbbed with each slight movement.

Someone help me

At some point i felt claustrophobic as the walls seemed to close in, their dull, gray expanse offering no comfort, no distraction from the chaos swirling in my mind. Questions echoed in my head, relentless: 'Why me? How far will they go?'

Someone help!!

By the time the man finally entered the room, I had already begun to feel the cracks in my resolve. He stepped inside with an air of authority, his neat sandals tapping against the concrete floor. His hands were clasped behind his back, his expression cold and calculating. Behind him stood two of his bodyguards, large and imposing, their faces covered with blank masks.

"Still holding out, are we?" he said, his voice calm but laced with menace.

I didn't answer. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

He chuckled, a low, chilling sound. "Ah, the silent treatment. That's fine. I don't need words to know what you're thinking." He smirked.

He gestured to one of the men, who stepped forward with a metal bucket. I tensed, my heart pounding as the man approached.

No... wait, is he gonna rape me

No..... No......

Without a word, he tilted the bucket, and a cascade of ice-cold water crashed over me.

The shock stole my breath for a while gradually, as my body jerked involuntarily at the freezing liquid which soaked through my clothes and pooled around me on the floor. My teeth chattered as I gasped for air, the cold seeping into my body.

Fuck.......

"That," the man said, crouching down to look me in the eye, "is just the beginning. You can end this anytime, you know. Just say the words. Agree to what I want, and you'll have all the food, warmth, freedom you desire. Doesn't that sound nice?"

I glared at him, my body trembling uncontrollably. "Go to hell," I croaked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

His smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of cold disdain. "Have it your way," he said, standing and motioning for his men to follow him out.

The door slammed shut, and I was alone again, shivering in the puddle of icy water.

Without windows, it was impossible to tell how much time had passed. The man returned again, flanked by his two guards. This time, one of them carried a small pitcher of water and a piece of bread. My stomach clenched painfully at the sight of the food, my body screaming for nourishment.

Help..... I need help.

I couldn't bring myself to screaam for help. This was destabilising.... No every moment was destabilising. My throat hurts so much and I couldn't contain the pain but there is nothing I could possibly do about it.

"Are you ready to listen?" the man asked, his tone casual, almost bored.

I stayed silent, my eyes fixed on the bread.

He sighed. "Oh, youll only starve to death". He pronounced as he noticed me staring hungrily at the bread. "Stubbornness isn't going to get you anywhere, darling. But I suppose you'll have to learn that the hard way."

He nodded to the guard, who placed the pitcher and bread on the floor just out of reach. My hands were no longer bound, but the chain connecting my cuffs to the wall was too short to allow me to reach the food.

"Go ahead," the man said with a smirk. "Take it. It's yours."

I lunged for it, desperation overriding my better judgment. The chain jerked taut, the cuffs biting into my wrists as I stretched toward the bread. The excruciating pain made me groan aloud.

This is not funny...

My fingers grazed it, but it was no use. The food was just far enough away to be unattainable.

The man laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed in the empty room. "Pathetic," he muttered. He motioned to his guards, and they picked up the bread and water, carrying them out of the room.

My oesophagus itched as the bread left my sight. My stomach sang in anticipation for food which will never come.

"You can eat when you've earned it," he said before the door closed behind him.

As he left, my stomach churned more, By now the hunger was already unbearable. My stomach twisted in knots, and my head throbbed from dehydration. Every movement sent waves of pain through my body, but I refused to cry out instead my inner self cried in torture.

Someone help me....... Help me... please....

Tears flowed carelessly down my eyes, my eyes burning and itching as hell.

___________________

The man returned yet again after about an hour, this time alone. He carried a small, black case, which he set on the floor in front of me.

"Let's try something different," he said, kneeling to open the case. Inside was an assortment of tools-pliers, a small knife, and other implements I couldn't identify.

My heart raced as he picked up the pliers, turning them over in his hands. "You know," he said conversationally, "there are many ways to persuade someone. Pain is just one of them. It's effective, though. Would you like to see?"

I stared at him, my fear barely concealed. "You're insane," I barked, spitting on him countless lyrics until a hot desperate slap kissed my cheek.

He smiled. "Maybe. But you'll find that insanity gets results."

He reached for my hand, and I tried to pull away, but the chain held me in place. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, and pressed the pliers against one of my fingers.

A shrill cry erupted out my mouth with so much agony.

"Last chance," he said, his voice calm. "Agree to what I want, and this ends now."

I clenched my teeth. "No.....," my eyes pulped out of its socket in agony.

His expression darkened, and he tightened the pliers around my finger. Pain shot through me, sharp and blinding, as he applied pressure. I opened my mouth wide, screaming with so many emotions fixed to it. Pain, frustration, regret, the past and self guilt. The tears could only stream down my face helplessly.

"Stubborn," he muttered, releasing my hand. "But everyone has a breaking point." He spat at my breaking figure, storming out in anger. "I will be back,".

__________________

The second day was a blur of pain and humiliation. They didn't just hurt me-they dehumanized me. This man seemed to take pleasure in breaking me down, his methods growing more twisted with each passing hour. Where did he get all these tools and hurting skills from, he's nothing but an animal.

I hate you.......

He made me kneel on the cold concrete floor for hours, my legs shaking with the effort to stay upright. If I collapsed, one of his guards would haul me back up, their hands rough and unfeeling.

"All you have to do is say yes," the man repeated, his voice like poison dripping into my ears. "One little word, and it all stops."

I glared at him through bloodshot eyes, my lips already dry from dehydration."No.... Let me be,".

He sighed dramatically. "Fine. Have it your way."

He nodded to one of the guards, who stepped forward with a length of rope. They tied my hands behind my back and looped the rope around a hook in the ceiling, pulling it tight until I was forced to stand on tiptoe to avoid the strain on my shoulders.

The man watched me struggle, his expression impassive. "Do you know what I see when I look at you?" he asked.

I didn't answer, my focus was on staying upright.

"Nothing," he said. "I see nothing. You're just a criminal. A pawn. A means to an end. You should be thanking me for giving you a purpose."

His words cut deeper than any blade, and it really hurt me.

By noon, I was broken as he released the ropes that was used to tie my hands behind me

My body was weak, my mind a haze of pain and exhaustion. He had deprived me of everything-food, water, warmth, dignity. The man's voice was a constant presence, taunting me, tearing me down piece by piece.

"Are you ready to listen now?" he asked, standing over me.

I lay on the floor, too weak to move. My lips were cracked and bleeding, my throat too dry to speak.

He crouched down, tilting my chin up to force me to look at him. "Say the words," he said softly. "Say you'll marry him."

I was weak. I couldn't take it anymore, this was hell. Tears filled my eyes as I nodded weakly. "I'll do it," I whispered, the words barely audible, the tears finally flowing down my face.

A triumphant smile spread across his face. "Good girl," he said, patting my cheek.

He stood on his feet and motioned for his guards who were standing outside the thick dark door I didn't take note of since I entered this torture hole, he told them to unchain me. My body collapsed to the floor, too weak to support itself.

"You've made the right choice," the man said as he walked toward the door. "Rest now. You'll need your strength for what's to come."

As the door closed behind him, I lay there, my mind numb with defeat. I had given in, but deep inside, a flicker of defiance remained.