She smiled. And that smile was sick. She walked to the far wall, pressed a small wooden panel. It slid open, revealing a cabinet I’d only ever seen once.

A thick, polished cane rested inside. Next to it, a drawer of incense, ropes, and a cattle prod.

The old tools of control.

The Karsovs didn’t just build an empire. They built a dynasty of obedience. She took out the cane. Ran her hand lovingly along the shaft.

Then the first strike came fast. Across my back, hard enough to knock the breath out of me.

The second split skin.

The third hit bone.

By the fifth, I was on the floor, cheek pressed to the cold stone tiles, trembling from pain so sharp it blurred my hearing and lost consciousness halfway through her rage.

**

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. My mouth tasted like metal and regret. Then I saw him.

Benedict.

"You let my grandmother beat you like that. Why didn’t you call me?"

"Didn’t want to interrupt your date with Maeve."

He blinked.

I turned my face to the window and let the silence pour in like smoke. Thick. Suffocating.

Then he stayed. For days. Sitting there, saying nothing, pretending to be the man I thought I married. I told him he didn’t have to. That I was fine. But he didn’t leave.

Not until a phone call came in.

“Business emergency,” he said, standing. But I already saw the caller, it's Maeve. "You’ll go home by yourself."

I nodded. "Sure."

I dressed slowly. Every move felt like peeling open a wound. The gauze tugged with every breath. My coat smelled faintly of antiseptic and burnt fabric. But I forced one foot in front of the other, walking down the hospital stairs. I didn’t see him coming. A man turned the corner, holding a venti Starbucks cup, and slammed right into me.

The coffee spilled. It splashed across my arm, my chest. Burned right through the thin fabric. I sucked in a breath as pain seared across my skin.

The man looked down at his soaked designer blazer.

"You blind or just broke?!" he snarled, wiping at the mess like I was dirt. "Do you even know how much this jacket costs? Or are you too used to charity hospitals to care?"

"I—I’m sorry." I bent down, grabbing at my soaked coat, trying to breathe through the sting. "It was my fault—"

"You’re damn right it was." He stepped closer. "Pay for it. Now."

But before I could say another word, a voice rang out behind me. Low. Lethal.

"Touch her again and I’ll break your jaw."

The man turned.

Benedict was there.

Before the man could even scream, five men in black appeared behind Benedict like shadows. They moved fast. Too fast.

“Take him,” Benedict said.

No hesitation. They dragged the man away as he kicked and cursed and shouted threats no one cared to hear.

And then silence.

Benedict turned to me. His gaze swept over my clothes. Cheap, wrinkled, still faintly stained with blood and now, coffee.

"You got no money from Linwood or Karsov? Why the hell are you dressed like this?"

The Linwood family never gave me a damn cent but only hospitalizations for my grandmother. And sure, the Karsovs had a black card, but I was never the real Mrs. Karsov. So the card stayed in my wallet like a joke I wasn’t allowed to laugh at.

“The hell are you sulking for now?” he snapped, grabbing my wrist and dragging me into his black SUV. “Come on. You look like hell. We’re getting you new clothes.”

I didn’t argue.

**

At the mall, he picked out designer sets like he was selecting weapons… sharp, cold, expensive.

I stood there, still as marble, while assistants zipped me in and out of clothes like I was one of their mannequins.When we finally stepped out into the sunlit atrium, bags in hand and the sting of luxury clinging to my skin, I thought it was over.

But then—

“Benny?”

I froze.

Maeve.

Wearing heels too high for a casual afternoon, with sunglasses perched on her head and her phone in one hand. A staff trailed behind her, pushing a cart stacked with 20 glossy black-and-gold boxes. Chanel. Cartier. Valentino. All of it bleeding wealth.

From his other black card. The one he didn’t think I knew about.

Her lips parted when she saw me. The smile she had died mid-air. “Oh… I didn’t know you were… out.” Her gaze flicked from my face to the bags in my hand, then back to Benedict. “You said you were in Singapore.”

“Maeve—”

“You told me not to text because you’d be in meetings all day,” she said, “I should’ve known,” she whispered, voice trembling. “God, I should’ve known…”

She looked at me again, like I was a ghost haunting the life she’d tried to steal.

Then she turned and ran.

“Maeve!” he shouted, already chasing her.

I just stood there. Watching him disappear after her. And then… Bang!

The sound was deafening. I whipped my head around just in time to see a sheet of glass falling from the upper floor of the mall. It hit Maeve before she could scream.

Blood spilled. Bright, fast. She collapsed in an instant.

Benedict’s roar echoed through the open space. He rushed to her, scooping her up like his whole world depended on it.

I stood there, my fingers twitching at my sides. Then I followed.

At the hospital, everything was white and humming and cold. He paced outside the operating room, still in the bloodstained suit. The mighty Benedict Karsov—untouchable, unreadable—was now a man clutching fear with both fists.

Then the doors slammed open and a doctor rushed out. “Massive blood loss,” he said, breathless. “She’s RH-negative. The blood bank doesn’t have her type.

“I’m RH-negative,” I said, standing up. “Use mine.”

He turned to me like I’d just slapped him.

“She needs it. Go ahead.”

After all, I'm leaving…

The nurse led me away. I lay on the stiff cot, needle in my arm, blood draining slowly into the bag. I watched it go, drop by drop, while Benedict was there when I came out. Still pacing.

“S-she’ll live,” I told him softly.

“Why haven’t you left yet?”

I looked away. “She misunderstood. I want to explain when she wakes up.”

He stepped closer. “You really like me that much, huh?”

Before I could speak, the doors opened again. The surgeon came out, removing his gloves. “She’s stable. She’ll wake soon.”

Benedict exhaled, tension falling off him in one long breath. I moved back to the wall. Disappeared into silence again.

**

WHEN MAEVE WOKE UP, I was there.

She opened her eyes, saw me, and instantly started crying.

“So you brought her here too?” she asked Benedict, voice shaking. “You want me to wish you both well, is that it?”

“No,” I said quickly. “You misunderstood. He really did have a meeting that day. The clothes, he just brought me along. Nothing happened.”

Benedict added, “She’s nothing to me. We’re married on paper. That’s all.”

Maeve stared at us both with teary, trembling eyes. “Prove it, Benny!”

Benedict frowned. “What do you want me to do?”

Maeve turned her head toward the window. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the storm raging outside. Rain lashed the courtyard. Thunder rolled loud enough to shake the walls.

“Make her kneel out there,” Maeve whispered, voice trembling. “In the storm. Let her stay until she passes out. No umbrella. No coat.”

Benedict blinked. “Maeve, she—”

“She’s scared of thunder,” she said. “You told me once. That her hands shake. That her breathing stops.” She turned to him, eyes glassy. “Prove I matter more.”

Silence fell like a shroud. He looked at her. Then at me. And for a moment, I hoped, hoped he would say no. That he would protect me, just once.

But instead, he stepped back and said, quietly, “Take her.”

The bodyguards moved.

I didn't struggle. What was the point?

They shoved me outside like I was trash. The cold rain smacked into my skin like slaps. Thunder cracked overhead, violent and too close, and my legs buckled. I dropped to my knees on the slick concrete, arms trembling, soaked within seconds.

The guards locked the door behind me.

I was alone.

The wind howled, whipping my soaked hair around my face. I tried to breathe, but every boom of thunder made my chest lock up.

Another crash. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood and all I remember is collapsing.

**

I woke up in Karsov’s estate three days later.

Not the hospital. Maeve didn’t want me there. Said I was faking it. But they didn’t know the truth. My body wasn’t performing. It had shut down.

Three days of silence, stillness, and sleep, that was all it could manage.

“Benny,” Maeve purred from the doorway, “When are we interrogating that traitor from Marseille? I want to watch.”

Then her eyes flicked to me.

“Oh, Miss Linwood. You’re awake?” She smiled like a debutante. “I didn’t mean for him to actually send you out into the storm. I was just mad. He took it literally.”

I didn’t answer.

She sat gracefully on Benedict’s lap, “I heard you donated blood to me. How romantic,” she cooed. “You bled for me. How about this? As a thank-you, you should join us tonight. Karsov’s sealing a deal with the Russians. Private dinner. No press. Just family.”

I opened my mouth to say no.

But she moved fast. Grabbed my hand before I could finish the first syllable.

“Don’t refuse.”

Benedict didn’t speak. He just looked at me, that same cold, loaded stare that meant: Don’t make a scene.

I swallowed. Then nodded.

**

The dinner was held on Karsov’s private yacht.

Three security checks. Twelve guards with semi-automatics. Surveillance in every room.

But everything was dressed in opulence—white leather chairs, crystal glasses, a chandelier that probably cost more than my life.

The ocean stretched out around us, calm but deceitful. Like everyone at this table.

Maeve curled against Benedict like she belonged to him. She laughed too loudly, whispered names into his ear, pretended to be scared when he mentioned the weapons deal.

I sat near the edge of the dining area, quiet, invisible. Watching. When Benedict stepped away to take a secure call, she came over.

“I don’t get you sometimes,” Maeve murmured, her diamond necklace catching the low light.

I turned to face her slowly. Calm. Flat.

“They say you love him,” she said, sipping her wine like it was blood. “That you’d take a bullet for him. But I’ve never seen a woman in love act like you.”

Her voice dropped.

“I framed you. Made you crawl. Made you beg. And when he obeyed me and left you in that storm, you didn’t scream. Didn’t even flinch. Now I sit in his lap and lick honey off his fingers and you still don’t move.”

Her smile widened.

“So tell me, Miss Linwood. Do you really love him… or are you just pathetic?”

I tugged at my lips. Thought about answering.

But then—

Boom.

A sound like thunder. A wave slammed into the side of the yacht.

“Ah!” she screamed.

We both went overboard.

The sea swallowed us whole. Something sharp ripped into my side as I hit the water. Blood followed. My blood.

“Two overboard! We’ve got two in the water!”

Then another shout: “One of them’s bleeding! Sharks’ll smell it!”

“Where are they?”

“They fell opposite side, we can only reach one!”

Then I heard Benedict scream: “Save Maeve!”

The words hit harder than the sea.

I sank.

I saw my blood stain the water.

And then… nothing.

I woke up staring at a hospital ceiling.

"You’re awake, finally," a nurse said, relief in her voice. "You’re in really bad shape. We need to call your family."

She hesitated, then said with a sigh, "Miss Maeve’s next door. Barely hurt, but Mr. Karsov hasn’t left her side. Fed her soup, fluffed her pillows. I thought you two were married, but... where is your family? No one came these two days."

I smiled without warmth and didn’t answer. My grandma was already dead. She died two years ago.

The door burst open.

Benedict.

He stormed in like a bomb with legs. He didn’t say a word at first. Just walked up and knocked the medicine tray clean off the bedside table. Glass shattered across the floor. Pills scattered.

His eyes locked on mine like knives.

"You push Maeve into the sea?"

I blinked.

What?

I didn’t even get a chance to respond before he grabbed my wrist. His grip was brutal. The pain shot up my arm.

"She told me everything!" he snapped. "You really think you’re gonna get away with that?! You're really testing my patience!”

I tried to breathe through the pain. The nurse was too afraid to intervene.

"Was that all fake? You just wanted my attention, huh?"

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t beg. That seemed to set him off more. He yanked his hand back and sneered.

"Fine. No doctors. No nurses. Handle it on your own."

Then he left.

**

The next few days were hell. No check-ins. No bandage changes. No one came.

I dragged myself to the cabinet for supplies. Changed my own dressings. My leg throbbed from the shark bite and my side burned from the gash. My hands shook every time I opened a medicine bottle.

I fell twice. Hard.

But I got up.

Because I always did. He thought I’d break.

But he didn’t know me. I grew up taking care of a dying grandmother in a crumbling house with no running water. I learned to clean wounds, lower fevers, and survive on scraps. No one ever took care of me.

**

Six days later, I was ready to leave.

Bag packed. Discharge papers signed. My body was still healing, but my mind was sharper than ever. Then the door slammed open. Benedict stormed in and grabbed my arm.

“Maeve got taken.”

My heart didn’t move.

He added, jaw clenched, “By Damon.”

Damon.

His cousin.

The psychopath. Another mafia mob boss. Dangerous. Unstable. Cruel for sport.

“The hell does that have to do with me?” I asked quietly.

“They want you in exchange,” he snapped. “You go in. Maeve gets released. After four days.”

I didn’t speak.

Damon was the type who smiled while people screamed. The kind who broke things just to see if they’d cry.

“No,” I said flatly.

Benedict’s face turned to stone. “You don’t get a choice.” He stepped closer. Voice low, like a threat disguised as logic. “Damon’s obsessed with you. But if we do this clean… four days, he won’t hurt you. And when it’s done…” His eyes flicked to mine. “I’ll give you anything you want.”

I looked at him. Really looked. And then I smiled.

“Fine. I want a grand wedding.”

He blinked. “What?”

“We never had a real one,” I said, voice steady. “Just a marriage license and a security detail. I want a proper wedding. With guests. Cameras. Vows. Everything.”

He went silent. Thinking. Probably wondering if I’d gone insane.

But it was part of the plan.

When Alodia returned, I’d need a public stage. A spectacle. A perfect moment to hand her the title of Mrs. Karsov. Publicly. Permanently.

He finally gave a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll give you your damn wedding.”

Then they dropped me off at Damon's estate at midnight and Damon was already waiting… lounging on the couch like a king. The room smelled like spice and cigars.

“Mrs. Karsov,” he drawled, grinning like I was already his. “Been a while.”

**

The first two days weren’t the worst. They didn’t touch me. Not in the way I feared. But they took my blood. Tube after tube. Over and over.

My arms turned black and blue. Skin blistered. My veins felt like fire.

I could handle the pain. But watching it, watching my own blood leave me, unraveled something inside.

By the third day, I was slipping in and out of consciousness when I overheard the guards outside my door.

“Is he serious?” one whispered. “Says he’s gonna drain her dry… and keep her in a glass box like a trophy?”

“Shut up. He said she’s too pretty. The boss wants to preserve her. Like a doll. Forever.”

My breath caught.

So this was the nothing-will-happen promise Benedict gave me?

Selling me off to a lunatic in a tailored suit?

That night, I waited. When the guards were distracted, I grabbed the crystal ornament on the nightstand and smashed it into the window. The glass exploded. I sliced through the rope binding my wrists, then limped to the edge. Without thinking, I jumped.

I heard the crack before I felt it. My right ankle folded the wrong way when I hit the ground. The pain was white-hot. Still, I dragged myself away from that hell, bleeding and shaking, all the way back to the Karsov estate.

I pushed the door open.

There he was. Benedict, down on one knee, gently wrapping a bandage around Maeve’s ankle.

Maeve’s voice wobbled like she was about to cry. “Benny, she’s been gone four days. Aren’t you worried at all?”

Benedict paused, his voice soft like velvet. “I only worry about you. Why didn’t you tell me you hurt your leg? You want me to feel guilty?”

I stood in the doorway, soaked through, ankle swollen to twice its size. Neither of them even looked at me.

I walked past like a ghost.

“Alodia?” He stood up, eyes flicking over me. “What the hell happened?”

I didn’t answer his concern. Didn’t even believe it was real. “When’s the wedding?”

Maeve turned to him, confused. “What wedding?”