The days were a grey blur.
Monitored walks.Silent meals. A crushing monotony.
Victor's message was clear.Her small rebellion was over. She was a specimen in a jar. He controlled the light, the air, everything.
Her world was the coastal estate. Kaelen was her silent shadow.
The encrypted tablet was her only window out.It showed her Victor's life without her.
More photos of him with Isabella Montague.A gallery opening. A "blossoming partnership."
Each image was a deliberate twist of the knife.
The only break was the gown.
It arrived with Madame Colette. The designer was severe, impatient.
"Stand.Do not move."
She unpacked the dress.Elara's breath hitched.
It was a masterpiece of cruel elegance.Deep crimson. The color of fresh blood.
A sleeveless,high-necked column of heavy silk. It would hug her frame without mercy.
The back was entirely open,plunging to the base of her spine.
A dress to showcase and conceal.To present her as an untouchable possession.
The naked back was a vulnerable offering.
"Try it on."
Elara slipped into the cool,heavy fabric. Colette gave a curt nod.
"It will do.The color is strategic. It sends a message."
"What message?"
"That you have been claimed.Red is a warning. And power. He dresses you as his banner."
Colette made final adjustments with sharp pins."Do not gain or lose weight."
She left.Elara stood alone, feeling the weight of the silk.
A banner for a war she never wanted.
---
The gala day dawned bright and clear. The first sun in days. It felt like an insult.
Kaelen dictated her schedule with military precision. Bath. Hair. Makeup.
A professional team arrived.Their chatter was bright and impersonal.
They sculpted her hair into an elegant updo.They made her eyes luminous.
The woman in the mirror was polished.Perfect. Hollow.
Madame Colette returned for the final fitting.
The crimson gown zipped up with a sharp,final sound. It fit like a second skin.
The open back made her feel the air's cold kiss.
"A final touch."Colette produced a black velvet box.
Inside was a necklace. A choker.
Platinum,woven. A single, square-cut ruby meant to sit at the hollow of her throat.
Breathtakingly beautiful.Unmistakably a collar.
Elara recoiled. "I'm not wearing that."
"Mr.Sterling was very specific. It is non-negotiable."
The suite door opened. Victor stood there.
He was in his tuxedo.Devastatingly powerful. His gaze swept over her.
It lingered on her bare back.Then her bare neck. His eyes narrowed.
"The necklace,Elara."
An order.Not a request.
Her heart hammered. The final, symbolic submission. To wear his collar in front of everyone.
She stood her ground.A last, futile defiance. "No."
Victor took a single step into the room. His presence dominated the space.
The professionals shrank back.Colette held out the box.
"This is not a discussion,"he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"You will wear what I tell you to wear.You agreed to this. Put it on."
The air crackled with his will. An Alpha's direct command.
Every instinct screamed at her to submit.
Her hand trembled.The platinum was cold. The ruby was heavy.
She clasped the choker around her own neck.
The weight was immediate. The cool metal felt like a brand.
She met Victor's eyes in the mirror.Cold triumph glinted in his gaze.
He had won.She was branded property.
"Good." He offered his arm. His scent of ozone and snow wrapped around her.
"Now,let's go. It's time to end this."
---
The armored SUV was a silent tomb.
Elara sat rigid,the ruby burning her throat. She stared out the window.
The city approached.Dread and a shameful thrill churned inside her.
Victor scrolled through his phone,a picture of cold control.
As they neared the glittering center, he spoke without looking up.
"Remember the rules.You do not leave my side. You do not speak to him. You are a reflection of my will."
The threat was clear.She was to be a beautiful, silent doll.
They bypassed the main entrance. A private elevator. A hushed antechamber.
The sounds of an orchestra and a hundred conversations seeped through the doors.
Victor offered his arm.A command. She placed her hand on his sleeve.
He looked down at her. "Smile," he instructed.
The double doors swept open.
Sound, light, and scent hit her like a wall.
Crystal chandeliers.Gleaming silver. The city's elite.
The air was thick with Alpha dominance and expensive perfume.
Elara's world narrowed to a single point.
Across the room,near the bar, stood Lucian Knight.
He was watching the door.A glass of whiskey frozen in his hand.
His hazel eyes locked onto hers.They widened in shock.
Then they dropped.To the crimson dress. To the choker. To Victor's arm.
His expression darkened with disbelief,desperate hope, then pure, unadulterated fury.
Victor's hand covered hers. His grip was firm, possessive.
He leaned down,his breath a cold whisper in her ear.
"Let the performance begin."
---
Victor led her into the ballroom like a conqueror.
Every eye turned.Whispers erupted instantly.
Victor Sterling.Who is that with him? Look at that necklace...
Elara felt a hundred stares.Only Lucian's gaze burned her skin.
"Victor! A surprise!" A portly Alpha businessman clapped his shoulder.
His eyes slid to Elara with open curiosity."And who is your lovely companion?"
Victor's smile was cold and polished."May I introduce Elara Whitethorn."
He paused.Let the name hang.
"My wife."
The man's jaw went slack. The word wife rippled out like a shockwave.
Elara felt it like a physical blow.
"My...congratulations! This is... sudden."
"Some things are too precious to wait for,"Victor replied smoothly.
His grip on her hand tightened.A silent command.
Out of the corner of her eye, Elara saw Lucian take a step forward.
His knuckles were white around his glass.Possessive, obsessive energy rolled off him.
He was a lit fuse.
Victor guided her away. He introduced her as his "wife" again and again.
He watched each reaction.Savored the disruption.
He was building a wall of social convention around her.
They reached a quiet corner near an ice sculpture. A moment to breathe.
Victor leaned in,his voice a silken threat.
"He's coming.Remember your role. You belong to me now. Show him."
A shadow fell over them.
The air crackled with raw Alpha energy.Lucian stood before them.
His chest heaved.His pine-and-rain scent flared wildly.
His burning eyes were locked on Elara,ignoring Victor completely.
"Elara." Her name was a ragged plea. "What is this? What has he done to you?"
---
The sound of her name on his lips was a hook in her heart.
She smelled the familiar pine and rain,now tainted with fury.
She saw the desperation in his eyes.The gut-wrenching confusion.
A part of her wanted to reach out.To explain.
But she saw his hand, clenched bone-white.
She remembered the photographs.That same hand on a sobbing girl's shoulder.
She remembered the chat logs.The cruel, bragging words.
This pain was the same pain he had inflicted.
Victor's hand squeezed hers. A brutal reminder. Your role.
"Lucian." Victor's voice cut through the tension. Cold. Dismissive.
"I'd say it's a pleasure,but we both know that would be a lie. You're upsetting my wife."
The wordwife was a weapon. He drove it deep.
Lucian flinched. His eyes snapped to Victor's. "What did you do to her, Sterling? What lies?"
"I merely offered her the truth,"Victor replied, his tone glacial. "And a choice. She chose me."
The crowd was silent,watching the scandal unfold.
Lucian took another step, ignoring Victor, his focus solely on Elara.
"Little one,look at me. Please. Tell me this is what you want. Tell me you want to be with him."
His voice broke on the pet name.A desperate attempt to reclaim what was lost.
Elara felt every eye in the room. Victor's cold expectation. Lucian's broken desperation.
She was the rope in their tug-of-war,and she was fraying.
She lifted her chin. The ruby shackle was heavy.
She met Lucian's agonized gaze.Her own eyes were a storm.
She opened her mouth.No sound came out.
Victor answered for her. His quiet voice carried across the hushed space.
"She's wearing my collar."He gestured to the ruby choker.
"She is carrying my name.What more proof do you need? She is mine."
He paused,delivering the final blow.
"Now,remove yourself from my wife's presence before I have you removed."
The threat was final. Absolute.
The public humiliation was complete.
Lucian Knight had been publicly denied and dismissed.
He looked at Elara one last time.A promise of vengeance blazed in his eyes.
Then he turned and stalked away,disappearing into the crowd.
The second he was gone, Elara swayed. The world tilted.
Victor's arm was instantly around her waist,holding her upright.
He pulled her close,his body a cold wall of support.
He leaned his head down,his lips brushing her temple in a mockery of love.
"It's done,"he whispered, his voice thick with dark triumph. "You performed perfectly."
---
Victor didn't release her.
His arm was a steel band as he guided her through the gossiping crowd.
He propelled her toward a secluded balcony.
The cool night air was a shock.He finally let go.
She stumbled to the stone balustrade, gripping it. Her breaths came in ragged gasps.
The city lights twinkled below,indifferent.
"You broke him,"she whispered.
"I showed him the consequences of his past," Victor corrected.
He stood beside her,looking at the city. "He broke himself. I merely handed him the pieces."
He turned his head.His gaze swept over her. The ruby. The crimson dress. The uniform of his victory.
"And you were the perfect instrument."
The word was the final, crushing blow. Instrument.
Not a person.Not a partner. A tool.
The last fragile illusion evaporated.
She had done it. She had played her part.
She had stood silently while he publicly dismantled his rival using her as the weapon.
The contract was fulfilled in its most brutal form.
Victor studied her pale, shaken face. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Assessment.A general reviewing a piece of artillery after a devastating barrage.
"Come,"he said, his tone shifting back to command. "Our work here is done. It's time to go."
He didn't offer his arm. He simply expected her to follow.
Numbly,hollowed out and spent, she did.
The gala was over.The confrontation was done.
A chilling realization settled deep in her bones as they left the glittering lights behind.
The public battle was won.
But the private war for her soul had just begun.