The Ruthless Billionaire's Property

OSWALD'S presence was oppressive, and it felt like the walls had shrunk. He took a step forward, standing directly in front of her now, looking down at her with an expression devoid of emotion. His hands quickly went behind his back.

"Listen carefully," he began, his voice low and deliberate, "there are rules and regulations I have gotten for you, laid down rules," she gasped, "you are going to follow every one of them, obey every one of them."

Orlanda's heart sank as his words came, each one more terrifying than the last. He continued in a cold, measured tone:

"First rule, you don't leave this room unless I tell you to. Never ever."

"Second rule, you don't make a noise, no sounds, no talking, no screaming. No one should ever know you are in here. You stay quiet at all times."

She blinked, fear settling deeper in her chest.

"Third rule, if I give you an order, you follow it without question. You do not ask why and you do not hesitate."

Her stomach churned. The rules weren't just harsh, they were dehumanizing, the commands of a master over a slave.

"Fourth rule, you don't touch anything that belongs to me anymore. Not in this room, not anywhere in the house, keep your hands to yourself."

Orlanda's lips parted slightly, her mind struggling to keep up with the onslaught of rules.

"Fifth rule, you will only speak when spoken to, and you will address me as 'Master' at all times."

Her eyes widened in shock. Seriously?

"Yes," he continued, "sixth rule, you will eat, sleep, and move only when I allow it. You don't make decisions for yourself, I do."

"Seventh rule, you are not allowed to interact with anyone else unless I give you the go ahead. Well of course, you wouldn't be interacting with anyone," he said as he used his right hand to circle around his left wrist.

"Eight rule, although this rule won't be understandable to you now but just note it down, you will always be available when I need you, no matter the time or circumstance. In due course, you will understand."

"Ninth rule, you are forbidden from showing any emotion unless I permit it."

Orlanda was now at a loss, she just didn't know what was going on or what rules she was being fed with at the moment, her head was twirling.

Oswald cleared his throat as he straightened up his tie and folded his arms.

"The last but not the least, the tenth rule, which I also term as the eleventh commandment," he said, his gaze hardening as he leaned in slightly, "If you disobey or forget these rules... I punish you."

She gasped, her heart racing in fear, but she said nothing. Oswald's cold, emotionless voice sent shivers through her.

Then came the final blow.

"Any questions?" He asked, his voice purred.

Orlanda licked her dry lips, now feeling dizzy.

"I... I can't remember all of them," she whispered helplessly.

"WHAT on earth does that Sophia girl have that no other woman on this planet could possibly have, Oswald? What?" Lady Frances Escobar's voice rose across the dining table, sharp and relentless.

Oswald's jaw tightened. He set his fork down and pushed his chair back, his half-eaten meal forgotten. Without a word, he stood and walked away.

"Don't you dare walk out on us!" Frances's voice followed him, but he kept moving, his footsteps echoing toward the living room.

Lord Dino Escobar was already up, abandoning his own plate. Together, husband and wife trailed their son, both voices raised now, their disapproval filling the house.

It was evening, and Oswald had finally agreed to join them for dinner, finally agreed to honour their invitation after two full weeks of dodging it. He had known deep down that this would happen. The food had been nothing more than a lure; the real menu was the same as always: criticism of the woman he loved.

Sophia. Sophia Lawn.

Sophia had been the best thing to happen to him in months. She was his world, his peace, his heartbeat. For a while, they had kept their relationship quiet, it was her wish to, but weeks ago, he had decided to make it public.

His parents had not taken it well.

They called her cursed. Said her family's name carried bad luck. That she wasn't "classy" or "worthy" of being an Escobar wife. He could live with society's whispers, but his parents' rejection cut deeper than he had expected.

He stopped short when his father's voice sliced through the air.

"Can't you just leave that woman? What love potion has she given you?" Lord Dino's tone dripped with disbelief.

Oswald halted in the middle of the living room and turned.

"Mum. Dad." His voice was measured but cold. "I'm tired, tired of repeating myself on this one issue."

Lady Frances stood with her hands on her hips, chin raised.

"It is either Sophia," Oswald continued, "or no one. I have made my choice."

"You will marry her over my dead body," Frances shot back without hesitation. "And when you do, you can pack my corpse to the morgue yourself. Because that cursed woman will never be part of this family."

The words hung in the air. Oswald stared at her, stunned at the venom.

"What exactly do you hate about her? Why this much bitterness?" His voice was low, almost dangerous.

Frances stepped closer, taking his hand as if trying to soften her stance.

"Son," she said, her tone dipping into false gentleness, "that girl is cursed. Her family is cursed. Bad luck follows her like a shadow. If you stay with her, it will cling to you too, and also, it will extend to us."

Oswald carefully withdrew his hand.

"And how exactly is she cursed, Mother? Explain it."

His father moved in, his patience clearly gone.

"Do you have to know how before you listen to us? She is an orphan, Oswald, an only child. Everyone knows she killed her parents."

Oswald's head snapped toward him.

"That is a lie."

"It is what people say," Dino pressed on. "They died in that plane crash during summer vacation, the one she 'happened' to miss. You think that is coincidence?"

Oswald exhaled slowly. Yes, he had heard the rumors. Yes, people twisted her history, the tragic crash that took both her parents while she stayed behind with her aunt. And yes, he knew she had been a sickly child until her twenties. But accidents happen, illnesses pass, and none of it defined her.

"She is good, Dad," Oswald said firmly. "Economical. Decent. Sweet. Intelligent. She builds a home, not breaks it. She has every quality I want in a wife." His eyes swept over them both. "I'm done explaining myself."

He turned toward the door.

"You are lying to yourself, Oswald!" Frances called, hurrying after him. "As long as I'm alive, you will never marry her!"

Her voice trailed him out into the night. He reached the main door, where his guard instantly straightened and fell into step.

Oswald strode toward the black Toyota RAV4 parked in the drive, his mother's words echoing in his ears. The guard opened the rear door, and Oswald slid inside without looking back.

The guard climbed into the front passenger seat, the driver started the engine, and without another word, the car pulled away from the Escobar mansion.

Oswald stared out the window, his jaw tight. He had made his choice. And no amount of curses or gossip would change it.

FOR a split second, Sophia wished the ground would just open up and swallow her whole. She had only come to the mart that evening to pick up a few groceries and leave quietly. But one careless, deliberately loud remark, one mocking and derogatory remark a lady had made about her now, making heads to snap at her and faces to disgustingly stare at her, shattered that peace and made her to say such prayer, that the ground she was standing on, should open and swallow her whole.

"How can a low-life, low-class girl turn a man like Oswald Escobar on? Eww. It is disgusting."

The voice carried through the aisle, it was sharp and mocking. Heads turned. Faces twisted into sneers.

"She isn't even pretty enough, to be honest," the woman added, her tone dripping with disdain.

Sophia's grip on the shopping basket tightened. Inside, her blood boiled. On the outside, she forced herself to keep moving, to ignore it.

She was used to this, used to being the girl society rejected for daring to love a man far beyond her "place."

Oswald Dino Escobar.

His name alone commanded attention. CEO of Escobar Investments- the leading investment empire in Philadelphia, along with several billion-dollar ventures across the country. The only son of His Lordship Dino Escobar and Lady Frances Escobar, one of the most respected couples in the nation.

He was nothing but powerful. Wealthy. Imposing.

And somehow, he had chosen her, a mere college graduate with no family to stand behind her, no inheritance, no prestigious titles. At first, she hadn't cared what people said. Their gossip seemed petty compared to the warmth of his love. But months later, the whispers hadn't faded. If anything, they had grown louder.

Even his parents refused to accept her.

And yet, for over half a year, Oswald had been the best thing in her life, adoring her without apology, proving their bond stronger than class or status.

Wisdom said she should ignore the woman's jealousy, and so she did. Keeping her head high, she made her way to the counter.

"How much?" she asked the man behind the till.

He quickly scanned her items.

"One hundred and fifty dollars."

She slid her credit card across the counter. The man bagged her groceries neatly in a branded paper bag. Just as she reached for it, he spoke, his voice was quick, almost conspiratorial.

"Sweetie, take my advice, leave Oswald. Let him find a better life."

The words landed like a slap. For a moment, she just looked at him, saying nothing. Then she shook her head slowly, took the bag, and walked out.

Outside, the cool air hit her. She strode briskly to her car, opened the door, and dropped the bag on the passenger seat. Sitting back against the headrest, she let the tears come, hot, unrelenting, burning away the composure she had clung to inside the mart.

After several minutes, she wiped her eyes and steadied her breathing.

She was supposed to be at Oswald's mansion tonight for an intimate dinner. Now? After this? She couldn't face him, not with the weight of those words still pressing on her chest. She turned the key in the ignition, deciding to go straight home instead.

The engine roared to life. Then, from the pigeonhole, her phone lit up. It was a text message.

She reached for it, her heart still heavy.