Isabella's POV
Viktor's eyes darkened as he moved closer to me, his presence oppressive and heavy. I stood frozen, my body trembling despite my attempts to remain composed. His fingers brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, and though I fought it, my body stiffened in response. I knew better than to pull away—my daughter and brother's safety hung in the balance, tethered to Viktor's whims.
"I said strip, Puta!" Viktor's voice came in a commanding tone as I shivered at the tone of his voice.
I quickly started off with the buttons on my shirt, with my trembling hands I began to unbutton my shirts slowly as I prayed for a miracle. Viktor, who was clearly running out of patience, turned towards the door as his eyes caught a picture frame of Isabella's daughter, Ekatrina and younger brother, Yuri.
He had given that picture to me on my birthday as a fulfillment of his promise to me. He stood there staring at the picture while I continued undressing myself. I felt the need to cry but I knew better than to cry in front of Viktor especially in a situation like this.
"They look happy, I bet they are both dying to see you," Viktor teased as he trailed his fingers on the picture frame before turning to face me who was now standing with no clothes on.
Lust and desires were evident in his eyes as his gaze lingered on my bare body. To him, my body was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. Ever since he saved me that day, he made sure that I became his personal property to keep.
"Kneel," he said in a soft whisper.
I obeyed his command as I kneeled immediately, my gaze lowered on the marble floor.
"You've been avoiding me," Viktor said softly, his voice almost tender. "That's not wise."
My heart raced. My gaze still lowered on the marble floor, unable to look him in the eye as I whispered, "I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't fix things," he continued, his tone turning colder. "I need you to stop acting like a child, Bella. You have a role to play."
The tension between us grew thicker, and I prayed silently that Viktor would just leave. My mind spun, searching for a way out as Viktor stepped closer, his hands slowly taking off his trouser.
I could see the huge bulge of his dick sticking out from the tight regions of his pants, I knew what he wanted me to do. Silently I reached out to his pants as I began stroking my fingers on his dick, slowly giving him the satisfaction that he wanted.
At that moment, there was a knock at the door.
"Señor Viktor," a voice called from the hallway. "Don Hector está en su oficina. Te necesita inmediatamente." Don Hector is in your office. He needs you immediately."
Viktor's expression darkened further. With an irritated growl, he slammed his hand against the wall, his frustration palpable. He turned away from me, taking a deep breath as he composed himself.
"Parece que esto tendrá que esperar," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Looks like this will have to wait."
I remained still, my relief carefully hidden. I watched as Viktor dressed quickly, his mood shifting from irritation to control. Before he left, he shot me a look over his shoulder, his eyes softening just enough to make my stomach churn.
"Go clean up and get some rest," he said, his voice smooth once again. "I'll see you in the morning."
The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment, I remained standing, my body stiff and my mind racing. When I was certain he was gone, I let out a shaky breath, the weight of his presence finally lifted.
I walked towards the bathroom, my legs trembling beneath me. I needed to wash away the heaviness of the moment, to clear my mind. The hot water from the shower poured over me, but it did little to ease the tension coiled inside me.
I slipped into the bathtub, closing my eyes as the memories began to flood my mind again. They always came back when I was alone—memories of the past I tried so hard to bury.
At nine, I had been robbed of my childhood totally by the one person who should have protected her. My father's cruelty had left scars far deeper than any physical wound. It had become a regular thing, I had become my father's concubine because he never missed the chance to force himself on her, most times he would tell me that it was a lesson for me to learn how to be a woman.
By the time I was thirteen, I got pregnant by him and by fourteen, I was a mother, raising a child that should never have been mine to bear. A child that was of the same blood as me, a child that was my sister and daughter at the same time. A child by my own father. And my mother? She was too consumed by drugs and alcohol to care, leaving me to fend for myself.
I clenched my fists, the water rippling around me as I thought of the day I snapped—the day I became more than a victim. My father had come home drunk, his eyes dark with malevolent intent as he reached for my daughter. My daughter was just four years old then. It was at that moment that something inside me broke. I had grabbed the nearest knife, fury and terror guiding me as I plunged the blade into him again and again.
I'd ran from the house, my daughter in my arms, my dress stained red. The memory of that night haunted me. I hadn't known where to go, only that I had to leave. I hadn't moved when Viktor found me, his eyes sharp as he assessed the situation. He had asked me what had happened, his voice was calm, almost understanding.
I remembered the way my hands shook as I told him the truth. I had killed my father—killed him to protect my child. And Viktor, in his own way, saved me. He had covered up the murder, disposing of the body and cleaning the scene as if it had never happened. In return, he had taken me in, alongside my daughter and my younger brother. But the price of his help had been steep.
I sighed, sinking deeper into the water. The steam rose around me, but the warmth did nothing to soothe the coldness in my heart. I wished I could just forget. I wished I could be free.
But I wasn't free. Not yet.
With a deep breath, I pulled myself up from the tub, wiping my face as I stepped out. I glanced at myself in the mirror, the reflection of a woman burdened by too many secrets staring back at me. I could still feel Viktor's grip on my life, his control tightening with each passing day. But I wouldn't break. I couldn't.
My daughter needed me. My brother needed me.
I dressed quietly, the echo of my past still whispering in the back of my mind. But I pushed it aside. Tomorrow would come, and with it, another day of survival.