ARIA'S POVI stood by the window in a nightgown that felt more like a costume than clothing.
The thin white fabric barely covered me, delicate and expensive, chosen by Tom's assistant that afternoon. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly aware of how exposed I was
The bedroom was massive. A king-sized bed dominated the space, draped in dark silk sheets that looked untouched and intimidating. Floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the city sparkling below, but all I could feel was the weight of what was about to happen.
My wedding night.
With a man I'd met exactly once before today.
The door clicked open behind me, and my whole body went rigid.
Tom stepped inside, and suddenly the huge room felt impossibly small. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the kind of man who commanded attention without trying. His blue eyes found mine immediately, scanning me from head to toe like he was taking inventory.
This was it. The moment I'd been dreading since I signed those papers.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought he must hear it. My mouth went dry. My legs trembled beneath me.
Tom didn't rush forward. He didn't demand anything. He stood there, his gaze traveling slowly from my face down to my bare feet and back up again.
Then he moved toward me. Each step was deliberate. Precise. Like a predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.
"Come here," he said quietly.
His voice was low and controlled, but underneath the calm surface, there was something dark. Something hungry. It made my knees weak.
I forced my feet to move. One step. Then another. My legs felt like they belonged to someone else by the time I reached him.
He lifted my chin with two fingers. The touch was firm yet gentle, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"You're shaking," he observed.
"I'm just... nervous." My voice came out barely above a whisper.
His jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beneath his skin. His eyes lingered on my trembling lips, my wide eyes, the pulse racing visibly at my throat.
"Have you really never been with a man before?" The question was almost gentle.
I nodded jerkily. "Never."
"Not even kissed?"
"No." My voice cracked, and I hated how weak I sounded. "My mother always said I should wait. That my purity was precious and I should guard it."
The irony of it all crashed over me. I'd guarded my virginity for twenty-three years, only to sell it to a stranger for money.
Tears burned behind my eyes. One slipped down my cheek before I could stop it.
Tom's expression shifted. Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe. Or something softer that I couldn't name.
He let go of my chin and stepped back. He looked at my hands, still trembling at my sides. The way I hugged myself was like I was trying to hold my body together.
"You're terrified of me," he said flatly.
"I'm not—"
"You are." His voice left no room for argument.
He turned away and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows. His shoulders were rigid. His back was tense.
"Do you want this?" he asked the darkness beyond the glass.
The question hit me like a physical blow. I opened my mouth, but no words came. What was I supposed to say? That I'd agreed to this? That I'd signed a contract?
"I want my mother to live," I finally managed.
He laughed. It was a short, bitter sound that held no humor at all.
"That's not what I asked."
The silence stretched between us, heavy and suffocating.
Then, so quietly I almost couldn't force the words out, I whispered, "No."
My shoulders shook. "I don't want this. Not tonight. I don't even know you. I don't know anything about you except that you paid fifteen million dollars to own me for a year."
Tom stood perfectly still for a long moment. His silhouette was dark against the city lights.
Then he moved. He walked to the massive closet and returned with a thick robe. He held it out to me without meeting my eyes.
"Put this on."
I stared at the robe, confused. Not daring to hope.
"You're cold," he said simply.
I grabbed it and wrapped it around myself quickly. Relief flooded through me as the soft fabric covered my exposed skin.
Tom walked to the bed and pulled back the covers with brisk, efficient movements.
"Get in."
I hesitated. Every muscle in my body was tense. This had to be a trick.
"Now, Aria."
I obeyed. I climbed into the bed and sat stiffly at the very edge, as far from the middle as possible.
But Tom didn't follow me.
Instead, he grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed and a throw blanket from the armchair. He dropped them both on the long couch near the window.
"What are you doing?" My voice came out small and confused.
"Sleeping there." He loosened his collar, not looking at me.
My breath hitched. "You're not going to—"
"No." The single word was sharp and final, cutting through the air like a blade.
"But the contract said—"
"I don't care what the contract says." He sat down heavily on the couch, rubbing a hand over his face. He suddenly looked tired. Older than his thirty-one years. "I won't touch you when you're this scared. I won't force myself on someone who's trembling like a leaf."
Relief hit me so suddenly and powerfully that it made me dizzy. I sank back against the pillows, my whole body going weak.
"I don't understand," I whispered. "Why would you—"
"You've had a long day." Tom lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "You sold your future to save someone you love. You shouldn't have to pay for it like this. Not tonight."
I pulled the blankets up to my chin, still not quite believing this was happening.
"Why did you want a virgin wife?" The question escaped before I could stop it.
His jaw clenched. For a moment I thought he wouldn't answer.
Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he said, "Because for once in my miserable life, I wanted to do something right. Something pure. Something I couldn't ruin."
The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning I didn't understand.
"Thank you," I whispered into the darkness.
He didn't respond. But his breathing changed—slower, deeper, like he was forcing himself to relax.
I closed my eyes. Exhaustion finally caught up with me. The past three days had been a nightmare.
It all crashed over me now, pulling me toward sleep.
But just as I was drifting off, Tom's phone buzzed.
The sound was loud in the quiet room. Harsh. Jarring.
I opened my eyes and saw Tom sitting up, staring at his phone screen. Even in the dim light, I could see his face drain of color. His jaw clenched so tight I heard his teeth grind.
"What is it?" I asked, unease curling in my chest.
He didn't answer. He just stared at the screen like it was showing him something from a nightmare.
"Tom?" My voice shook. "What's wrong?"
Finally, he turned the phone toward me.
A video was playing. A man's voice, mocking and cruel, filled the room.
"Enjoyed my leftovers, Vager? She was mine first. Sweet little Aria. So innocent. So easy."
My stomach dropped.
Then photos appeared. One after another. I am in a bed. Nearly naked. Unconscious. My face was clear in every shot.
The date stamp at the bottom made my blood run cold: Seven years ago.
"I swear with my life," I gasped, "I don't know him. I don't remember being on that bed. Tom, please, you have to believe me."
But Tom wasn't listening.
His chest was rising and falling too fast. His hands shook as he stared at the phone. All he could see was himself—standing in this bedroom moments ago, believing my tears, believing my fear, believing he was doing something right for once.
"You lied to me," he said. His voice cracked.
"I didn't know!" Tears streamed down my face. "I swear I don't remember—"
"That's convenient." The word came out like poison.
He stood up. In two strides, he was at the bed. He grabbed my wrist, not with desire but with rage. Pure, burning rage.
Betrayal tore through him. The humiliation of being mocked. The realization that the one thing he'd built his rules around was a lie.
"Tom, no—please—"
"I paid for truth," he said, his voice dead and cold. "I paid for purity."
He shoved me back onto the bed. I tried to scramble away, but he was stronger. Faster. His weight pinned me down.
"Tom, stop! Please!" My voice broke. "I'm telling you the truth—"
"I paid fifteen million for something that was already taken." His eyes were wild. Furious. Broken. "Now I'm taking what's mine."
I screamed. I fought. But it didn't matter.
His hands tore at the robe I'd just put on. At the nightgown underneath. I felt the fabric rip, felt the cold air hit my skin, felt his rage pressing down on me like a physical weight.
"Please don't do this," I sobbed. "Please. I'm begging you—"
But he wasn't listening. Wasn't seeing me. He was seeing the photos. Seeing the man who'd mocked him. Seeing years of control and obsession crumbling around him.
I felt him push my legs apart. Felt him position himself. And then—
Pain. Sharp and overwhelming. Not the pain I'd expected from a first time, but the pain of being violated. Of being taken by force.
I stopped screaming. Stopped fighting. My body went rigid, my mind shutting down because it was the only way to survive what was happening.
Time fractured into fragments I couldn't piece together. His breathing. The bed is moving beneath us. My own tears, silent now, streaming into my hair.
When it was over, he pulled away from me as I'd burned him.
He stood there, breathing hard, not looking at me. Not looking at what he'd done.
"I'm going to find him," he said. His voice was dead. Empty. "The man in those photos. The man who touched you first. And when I do, Aria..."
He turned to look at me one last time. I was curled on my side, the torn robe barely covering me, my whole body shaking.
"God help both of you."
Then he slammed the door behind him.
The sound echoed through the room. Through my bones.
I lay there, unable to move. Unable to think. My body hurt. My mind hurt. Everything hurt in a way I'd never imagined possible.
Hours passed. I don't know how many.
Eventually, my tears dried on my cheeks. My breathing slowed. But I couldn't stop shaking.
Tom's scent still clung to my skin, making my stomach turn.
I closed my eyes, desperate for sleep. For escape. For anything that would make this stop.
Then something shifted in the darkness behind my eyelids.
A flash. So quick I almost missed it.
Shadows moving. Hands I didn't recognize. Music thumping faintly through the walls.
A voice whispering words I couldn't quite make out.
And then one word—clear and terrifying—echoed through my mind.
Obedient.
My eyes flew open. My heart skipped a beat.
The memory wasn't gone. It had never been gone.
It had just been waiting. Buried deep.
And now it was clawing its way back to the surface.