Michelle’s breath came in shallow bursts as the door clicked shut. The silence returned, but it wasn’t the same. This time, it wasn’t just the absence of sound—it was the gathering storm within her, the determination that flickered slowly, deep in her chest.

She would play his game, for now. But the rules were about to change.

Michelle lay there, staring at the door long after Lucas had left. The silence that followed his departure felt suffocating, but this time it was different. The dull ache between her thighs was quickly being replaced by a sharper, more potent feeling: anger.

She curled her fingers around the chain that still bound her ankle, its cold weight a constant reminder of her captivity. But now, instead of seeing it as a symbol of her helplessness, she used it as fuel for her fire. Lucas had left her on the edge, physically and emotionally, but he had also made a mistake.

He underestimated her.

He thought his control was absolute, that he could dangle affection and cruelty in front of her like a yo-yo, and she’d keep falling for it. But something had shifted in those moments when he left her wanting—he had given her a glimpse of how much power he still thought he had. And that realization filled her with a kind of clarity she hadn’t felt in a long time.

Slowly, she shifted her position, not caring if he was watching. She ran her hands over her body, teasing him, if he was indeed watching, bringing herself to completion and finishing what Lucas started.

Each day that passed only fuelled her determination. She made mental notes of his routines—the way he visited at certain times, the small tells in his behavior when he was about to switch from tenderness to cruelty. He was predictable in his manipulation, and she could use that to her advantage.

As she plotted, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. Could she really outsmart him? Could she really escape? But she silenced it. She had to. She’d spent too long caught in his sick game, oscillating between hope and despair. But now she was done.

Each time Lucas returned, Michelle steadied her breathing, keeping her face in a calm mask. She sat on the bed; the chain hidden beneath the blanket, her body language deliberately relaxed, as if resigned to her fate.

This time when Lucas stepped into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto hers, Michelle held his gaze, refusing to flinch.

“Michelle,” he said softly, that same disarming tenderness in his voice. “I brought you something.”

He stepped forward, revealing a small, wrapped box in his hand. Michelle’s stomach churned. Another gift. Another twisted gesture in his sick cycle of control.

But she smiled, just a little, letting the act begin.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice light, almost curious. Lucas’s smile widened, clearly pleased with her reaction.

“A reminder,” he said cryptically, placing the box on the bed beside her.

Michelle’s fingers brushed the box, but she didn’t open it. Her wedding ring sat inside, she was sure. Instead, she looked up at him, her eyes softening enough to give him the impression that she was falling for his act again.

“I want to understand, Lucas,” she said, her voice dipping into vulnerability.

Lucas’s expression shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. He wasn’t used to her acquiescence. He thought he had broken her spirit. But her question played into his ego, his need to explain, to justify his actions.

“You’re not like other people, Michelle,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his voice low and coaxing. “You need structure, guidance. And I’m the only one who can give that to you. You know that.”

She bit her lip, pretending to mull over his words. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered, letting enough hesitation creep into her voice to keep him hooked.

Lucas leaned in, his hand brushing her hair back from her face. “You will,” he promised, his voice dangerously smooth. “In time, you will.”

Michelle nodded, breathing steadily. She let him believe he was winning, that she was falling back into his web.

The silence stretched between them, a calculated pause. She glanced down at the chain around her ankle, biting her lip in the way Lucas liked.

“Lucas...” She lifted her eyes, carefully letting her voice tremble a little. “I’ve been thinking. If you trust me, maybe you could… unchain me. I won’t try to leave. You can keep the door locked. I —” She stopped, swallowing, letting herself seem unsure, like she was afraid to ask for too much.

Lucas raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a knowing smile. “Trust you?” He reached out, brushing his fingers along her cheek, his touch gentle, but the power behind it unmistakable. “That’s a lot to ask.”

Michelle dropped her gaze, letting her uncertainty show. “I want to prove I can be what you want. What you need. The chain—it’s a reminder. I don’t need a reminder anymore.”

She could feel his eyes on her, measuring, analyzing. Lucas had always been a predator, and right now, she was his prey. But she knew how to play her part. She’d done it for so long, falling into his web, slipping deeper every time she thought she’d clawed her way out.

Lucas stood slowly, his gaze never leaving hers as he pulled the key from his pocket. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if he would actually do it. His fingers hovered over the lock, but then he picked it up, holding it in his palm.

He leant over until his face was close to hers. “You won’t fight me. You won’t try to run?”

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else. The plan she’d been constructing in her mind felt suddenly fragile, but she had to follow through. She had to.

Lucas crouched down, his touch deliberate and slow as he unlocked the chain. It clattered to the floor; the sound filling the space between them. Michelle resisted the urge to rub her freed ankle, keeping her movements subdued, careful not to break the moment.

“The door stays locked,” Lucas reminded softly, standing over her.

“I know,” she whispered, her voice soft, her eyes fixed on the floor.