“I can't believe you signed the papers!” Tiffany exclaimed sharply, her voice echoing through the apartment.

She walked around tidying the room aggressively, a chore she only did when she was severely upset. As she dusted the pillows with force, Katherine turned her face to the window to receive the evening's breeze in a bid to clear her head.

“You told me about how your relationship turned messy with him in college,” Tiffany continued, throwing the duster to the ground. “You know he hates you! I saw it in his eyes, yet you still agreed to marry him?”

Katherine ran her hands through her hair shakily. “Tiff, I didn’t have a choice.”

“There's always a choice, Kat” Tiffany retorted, moving closer to her, her arms crossed.

Katherine's jaw clenched as tears stung her eyelids, and she snapped. “What choice do i have then Tiffany? Refuse and beg him? Take out a loan I can't repay? You don’t have that amount. Even if you did, haven't you done enough for me already?”

Tiffany stood silently.

“I live in your apartment,” She continued, ticking off a list with her fingers.

“I eat the food you buy, and collect money from the little salary you get. How much more am I supposed to take from you?”

Katherine's voice cracked as the weight of everything she already lost hit again.

She swallowed hard before whispering, “Or do I just let the last piece of my father be destroyed?”

Tiffany’s expression softened instantly.

Her vision blurred as she looked at her best friend. “I lost my mother before I could even walk, Tiff. My father was all I had for years… and now he’s gone too. The museum is the only thing left that still connects me to him.”

Tiffany's shoulders fell completely, and she pulled me to Katherine embrace, wrapping her in a tiggt hug, sobbing as well.

“I'm sorry Katherine,” She whispered, her voice breaking. “I just…. I’m scared for you, Kat. Damien wants control. He hates you. What happens to you now?”

She inhaled deeply, trying to force a smile on her lips but it barely formed. “I survive, Tiff. That's the only way out.”

Tiffany pulled back, wiping away her tears angrily. “I hate this. I hate him. I hope he rots.”

Katherine wanted to agree, she should agree with her.

But at the memory of his touch, the way her body betrayed her in that single moment, made Katherine feel like she was losing herself already.

Tiffany exhaled, shaking her head. “So, what now?”

Her stomach twisted.

“Now, I move forward. I pretend today never happened and focus on the museum”.

********************

The next morning, Katherine stepped into the museum, breathing it in as if for the first time. The familiar scent of aged wood and faint dust greeted her, wrapping around her like a long-lost friend. For the first time in days, the crushing anxiety in her chest loosened.

I did it, father. I didn’t lose the museum…… And that it all that matters.

Running her fingers across the old reception desk, Katherine glanced at the historical paintings that still stood untouched.

It was a miracle, the museum was safe.

She mulled over what to do first in order to kick-start activities, and it occurred to her that clearing any news published about the demolition of the museum was important hence she decided to do that first. However, as katherine pulled out her phone to begin calling small news outlets to clear up the false reports about the demolition, a message popped up on her screen, and her heart dropped.

BANK TRANSACTION ALERT: Your business account has been temporarily frozen due to legal inquiries.

Then a second message followed.

NOTICE: The Anderson Museum’s operation permits have been revoked pending further authorization from Turner Development.

Her blood ran cold.

“No…” she whispered, her hands trembling as she glared at the phone again.

She rushed to the main office, frantically opening her laptop. She clicked through the system, her breath coming in short gasps as she scanned the business account records.

On gaining access, she saw that the account numbers weren’t just frozen, they were blocked entirely. No payroll. No funding. No transactions.

Meaning that the museum was practically paralyzed.

Katherine's vision blurred with rage as she grabbed her phone and dialed the one person responsible. And he picked on the first ring.

"Mrs. Sullivan," Damien’s voice greeted smoothly, mocking in its familiarity.

Katherine’s fists clenched. “Damien ,what the hell did you do?!”

A deep chuckle rumbled through the speaker. “I secured my investment.”

Her heart hammered. “You froze my accounts and revoked the museum’s permits?!”

“You didn’t think I’d just let you do whatever you wanted, did you?” His tone was infuriatingly amused. “You’re my wife now, Katherine. That means your little museum is also my concern.”

Katherine gritted her teeth. “I kept my part of the deal, Damien. I signed the papers. The museum stays untouched.”

“Untouched by me, yes.” His voice was maddeningly calm. “But not uncontrolled.”

Katherine slammed her laptop shut, rage bubbling in her stomach.

I should have known.

“Fix this.” Katherine's voice trembled with fury. “Now.”

“If you want it fixed, come to my office.” He replied, ending the call.

Katherine let out a shaky breath, fury and panic warring inside her as she realized he was toying with her. She saw through his words, it is more than business interests to Damien, it is the power he has. He wanted to prove she belonged to him now.

But he seemed to forget who she was as well.

Grabbing her purse, Katherine stormed out of the museum, her heels clicking against the floor with purposeful rage.

“Damien wanted me to come to him? Fine.”

“I am here to see your boss, where is he?” Katherine demanded, planting her hand on her hip.

The receptionist barely spared her a glance before resuming her typing, her nails clicking in indifference.

“ Do you have an appointment, Miss?” she asked, her tone full of indifference.

Katherine scoffed, disbelief flashing on her face.

She slammed her hands onto the desk, making the woman flinch. Conversations in the sleek lobby came to an abrupt halt. The impeccably dressed employees turned toward the commotion, their gazes flicking between Katherine’s fury and the stunned receptionist.

But Katherine couldn’t care less.

“He is the one who called me here, he is expecting me. So, tell him Katherine is here” she stated firmly.

The receptionist hesitated, glancing nervously at the security guards stationed near the entrance. Still, under Katherine’s unwavering glare, she reached for the landline with trembling fingers.

“M-Miss, his security will be here shortly to escort you,” she stammered after a brief conversation.

Katherine rolled her eyes, tapping her foot impatiently as the guards arrived. Without a word, they led her to the elevator.

She stormed in, her heels clicking against the marble as she stepped inside. The elevator doors slid shut, enclosing her in tense silence. As she waited, her head pounded. Damien had crossed the line by freezing her accounts and revoking her permits. She would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing her break.

The elevator dinged, opening to the top floor. She was led through a grand hallway before the guards pushed open the double doors to his office.

Without knocking Katherine stepped in. It was a sleek, minimalist office with floor-to-ceiling windows casting long shadows across the polished marble. Her eyes gaze moved across the wide stretched room and landed on him.

Damien stood by the window, hands tucked in his pockets, the setting sun painting him in a deceptive glow. For a moment, something in her stirred.

She took in his dashing appearance in the exquisite navy suit he wore and his stoic expression as he looked outside. However, when he turned to face her with a smirk, she snapped back to reality.

Katherine stormed up to him with a fiery glare, her chestnut hair bouncing as she walked.

“You will reinstate my accounts. You will unfreeze my funds. And you will give back the museum’s permits—now.”

Damien sighed, as if her anger was a mild inconvenience. “Katherine, I told you already, I was merely securing my investment.”

Her chest tightened at his words and the casualty of it. It was as if she wasn’t a person, but a possession.

Damien stepped closer, tilting his head slightly. “Even if I were to grant your request, is that how you ask your husband for favors, Mrs. Sullivan?”

Her breath hitched at the title, but she refused to show weakness.

“This isn’t a favor,” she hissed. “You’re in breach of our agreement.”

Damien let out a low chuckle, unfazed by her. “Am I?”

“Yes you are!” Katherine shot, her nails digging into her palms. “The deal was that I marry you for one year and you revoke all rights you have to the museum.”

Damien smiled, moving toward the desk with leisurely grace and a flicker of unease coiled in Katherine’s stomach. She had a bad feeling about what he was about to say next.

“But it is my right to withhold any earnings from the museum, after all you have to pay” he said, and Katherine's heart dropped.

“P-pay what?” She stuttered, her hazel eyes widening and he pulled open a drawer, retrieving a thick stack of papers.

It was the contract, the one she barely skimmed before signing.

Damien flipped through the pages with a leisurely grace, then turned the document toward her, tapping a specific clause with his index finger.

“Read,” he ordered.

Her hands trembled as she took the papers from Damien. She scanned the text, her blood ran cold.

Clause 14: “If Mrs. Katherine Sullivan fails to repay the agreed sum within six months, she forfeits all personal freedoms and becomes the legal property of the Sullivan family."

The words blurred before her eyes, and she staggered back, her breath uneven.

“This—this is illegal. You can’t do this.” she whispered.

Damien raised an eyebrow. “Can’t I? You signed it yourself.”

Her throat went dry.“The lawyer didn't read this part-”

Damien’s smirk returned “ Or you didn't hear it.”

He leaned back against his chair, utterly relaxed. “Either Way, it is not my problem.”

Her vision blurred as her blood boiled fiercely. She had been tricked by Damien. He never intended to let divorce her after a year, rather he wanted to own her.

She staggered back, breath uneven, but Damien simply watched, enjoying every second of her realization.

“I told you, Katherine, you belong to me now.” he murmured, his voice cold and measured.

Katherine clenched her fists. “What do you want?”

He steepled his fingers, tilting his head. “Simple. Come home with me.”

Katherine’s pulse spiked. “What?”

Damien’s smirk deepened. “You’re my wife. And yet, you’re still living with your little friend like some runaway girlfriend.”

He cocked his head, watching her reaction. “That’s not how a marriage works.”

Katherine’s stomach twisted. “You’re out of your mind if you think I’m moving in with you.”

He sighed, collecting the contract, flipping through the contract. His fingers landed on another clause and he pointed it to her.

Clause 4B: The wife shall reside in the primary Sullivan estate or any residence deemed appropriate by the husband for the duration of the contract.

Katherine’s hands shook, and his gray eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as he leaned into his chair lazily.

“You have two options, Katherine.”

He lifted a single finger.

“One: you come home with me today, act like a proper wife, and in a year, when the contract ends, I might reconsider certain… clauses.”

Her breath hitched.

Then, he lifted a second finger.

“Two: you refuse, and when you fail to pay the debt in a year, you won’t just be mine. You’ll be the Sullivan family’s possession.”

Katherine froze, horror clawing at her throat, and a shudder ran through her. If she spent the rest of her life under his control, then he is free to do anything to her. Worse, she won't be able to stop him.

Her fists clenched. “You’re a monster.”

Damien only smiled. “And you, Mrs. Sullivan, are running out of time.”

Katherine wanted to scream. To tear the contract apart, but what difference would that make?

She already signed herself away.

Instead, she swallowed hard, forcing out the words.

“I’ll go home with you.”

Damien’s eyes darkened with satisfaction.

“Good girl.”

His tone sent ice through her veins. She wasn't a wife, but a prize.

And now she felt trapped.