Without another word, he stood, leaving her on the bed, trembling and vulnerable, her body aching with unfulfilled need. He walked out of the room; the door closing softly behind him, locking her in a prison not just of walls and chains, but of her own betrayed desire.

Michelle lay there, stunned, her body throbbing with need. The cold metal of the chain around her ankle dug into her skin as she shifted, the weight of it suddenly unbearable. She felt exposed, both physically and emotionally, the cruelty of his game settling in her mind like a dark cloud.

For a long moment, she stared at the ceiling, trying to push down the frustration, the shame of how easily she’d let herself fall back into his trap. Her body still hummed with desire, a cruel reminder of the way he had controlled every second, every breath, leaving her teetering on the edge, only to rip it away.

How had she let this happen again?

The door clicked open, and her heart lurched. For a second, she thought, hoped, he had returned to finish what he started. But it was only the sound of a tray being pushed inside. She couldn’t see the person; only the echo of retreating footsteps remained, as the door shut again, locking her into the silence of her thoughts.

She forced herself to sit up, her movements slow, deliberate. Her mind raced with a mixture of anger and longing, a dangerous cocktail of emotions that made her feel weak, even when she wanted to be strong.

The tray sat on a small table holding food she wasn’t hungry for. Her body was still flushed, still aching for something else, something Lucas had denied her.

But this wasn’t just about sex. It was about power—his power over her, over her body, her mind. The tenderness he had shown had only been a façade, a weapon in his arsenal to keep her tethered to him, even when she knew better.

She swallowed, staring at the tray, her thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion. He had lulled her into a false sense of security, making her believe, for those fleeting moments, that things had changed. That maybe she could trust him again.

But now she knew the truth. Lucas had never changed. She ate the food, not tasting a single morsel of the pot roast, red wine, and brownie. She was going to get out of here. And to do that, she needed to be at full strength.

The door opened again, and this time Lucas stepped inside. He didn’t look at her immediately, his attention focused on adjusting his cufflinks, as if nothing significant had happened between them. The air in the room shifted, tension crackling like electricity.

When his eyes finally met hers, they were calm, collected. Dangerous.

“Feeling better?” His voice was smooth, as though the last hour had been some casual encounter, nothing more than a moment shared.

Michelle’s throat tightened as anger bubbled up inside her, but she buried it beneath the weight of her exhaustion and confusion. She wanted to lash out, to scream at him, to tell him she saw through his games.

But the words stuck in her throat, and all she could manage was a hard stare.

He smiled faintly, as though amused by her silence. “You’ll thank me later,” he said, his tone patronising, almost gentle. “This is all for your own good.”

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as her heart pounded with frustration.

“You will never control me,” she finally managed, her voice shaking despite the effort it took to force the words out.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, his smile never faltering. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, a reminder of how he thrived on control. He reached out, trailing his fingers along her jaw, the touch light but suffocating.

“Oh, Michelle,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I already do.”

The truth of his words sent a shiver down her spine, and though she fought it, part of her couldn’t deny the reality of it. He had always known how to twist her, to play her emotions like strings on a puppet.

But this time—this time was different. She couldn’t allow him to win, not again. Michelle’s resolve hardened. She had let him in once, and it had nearly destroyed her. But she wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

He thought he held all the cards, but she wasn’t the same woman who had fallen into his trap before. She had learned, through the pain, the betrayal, how to survive. And that survival, that fire deep inside her, was her only weapon.

Lucas stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the door, leaving her alone once again.