365 days of cage

The sleek black SUV pulled up to the entrance of the Starlight Hotel, its tires barely making a sound against the polished driveway. The gleaming glass doors parted as the car came to a halt, the hum of the city outside silenced in comparison to the grandeur of the ballroom within.

A pair of polished black leather shoes stepped out first, followed by a sharp, tailored suit that could only belong to one man-Damien Blackwood. He stood tall and imposing, every inch the billionaire mogul the world loved to hate. His black hair was perfectly styled, his jaw sharp, eyes cold as steel, but all of it combined into a persona that the public adored. He was feared, respected, and undeniably powerful-his empire built on ruthless decisions and the demons of his past.

His gaze never strayed from the path ahead as the door to the SUV clicked open again.

A woman emerged. Elara Grey. Her heels clicked softly on the pavement as she stepped out, the weight of her father's debts heavier than any designer dress she wore. She adjusted the hem of her elegant gown, forcing a smile on her lips, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her posture was stiff, her hands nervously clasped in front of her. The ring on her finger, a stark reminder of her forced marriage to the man beside her, seemed to weigh down on her more than the diamond could ever suggest.

The air was thick with tension as Damien led her toward the entrance, his hand resting casually on the small of her back. The paparazzi outside the hotel surged forward, their flashes blinding. They were the perfect picture-wealth, power, and perfection embodied in the two of them. But inside, their union was nothing more than a contract. She was a means to an end. A year of his life to save her family.

Inside the ballroom, the music was loud, the guests luxurious in their gowns and tuxedos, each more polished than the last. Damien smiled, his presence dominating the room like it always did. He turned to Elara, his expression softening for a fraction of a second, just enough for her to notice.

"Don't worry about the lights," he said, his voice low and commanding, "I prefer you remain invisible tonight."

Elara's smile faltered, but she nodded, the weight of the words settling over her like a cloak. Invisible. Just like he wanted.

As they walked deeper into the room, the whispers of the guests followed. Elara kept her head down, trying to ignore the stares that seemed to burn into her skin. This was their life now-pretending. Pretending to be in love. Pretending to be happy. Pretending this marriage was anything more than a well-crafted deal.

But in the quiet, she wondered-just how long would she be able to hold onto her heart before it cracked under the pressure?

Damien led her further into the ballroom, where the glittering chandeliers cast a warm glow over the guests mingling in high society. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on them, the collective curiosity sharp, like vultures waiting for their next meal.

The sounds of clinking glasses and polite laughter faded into the background as she struggled to keep her composure. Every step she took felt calculated, her movements deliberate, as if she were trying to erase the deep ache gnawing at her chest. She wasn't just a wife in name; she was a pawn in Damien Blackwood's game.

He slid a hand into his pocket, exuding confidence, his gaze scanning the room for familiar faces. With every glance, people stepped aside, offering respect and admiration. He was untouchable-impervious to the opinions of others. It was hard to imagine him as anything less than the powerful, ruthless man he was today.

Elara stole a glance at him. He looked like he was in his element, at ease among the people who made up his world. His jawline was sharp, his posture impeccable, and his eyes, though cold, seemed to hold secrets she would never be allowed to know.

"Damien..." she started, her voice small against the noise of the crowd. "How long do we have to keep this up?"

He turned to her, an eyebrow raised, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You think I'm going to let them see through our little charade? We're a perfect match, remember?" His voice was low and clipped, his gaze piercing through her as if assessing her every move.

"I know." Her hands tightened at her sides, though she kept her expression neutral. "But sometimes, it feels like I'm suffocating."

Damien's smirk deepened as he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with a cold amusement. "You agreed to this, Elara... A year with me, and your family lives." His voice was low, deliberate, like a predator savoring its prey. "It's only been a month, and you're already suffocating. Imagine what the next eleven will feel like."

His words hung in the air, like an icy mist that chilled her from the inside out. Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders cutting through the crowd with an air of authority that made people part like waves.