"You'll never leave me,"

That evening, after the argument with Alexander left her emotionally drained, Isabella felt the need for an escape. She called her confidant, Ethan, who had always been a source of solace in moments like these. As she stood in front of the mirror, Isabella scrutinized her reflection, wearing a bold red dress that hugged her curves and a pair of high heels that elevated her confidence. She needed a night out—away from Alexander's oppressive presence. "Let's go out, Ethan," she said, her voice masking the pain she felt. "I need to get out of here."

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Isabella, Alexander watched her from the shadows of their home. His eyes followed her every move as she made her way to the car. The jealousy and anger that simmered inside him had reached a boiling point. The sight of her dressed for another man made his blood boil, his thoughts consumed by the idea that she was slipping further away from him.

Isabella and Ethan arrived at a cozy restaurant in the city. The ambiance was warm, filled with the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Over dinner, Isabella found herself laughing with Ethan, forgetting for a moment the darkness that hung over her life. "This is exactly what I needed," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "A night with someone who genuinely cares."

Ethan grinned, his hand resting gently on hers. "You deserve better than what you're going through. You know I'm here for you, always."

From across the street, in the shadows, Alexander sat in his car, his eyes fixed on the pair through the restaurant's windows. The sight of Ethan's hand on Isabella's filled him with rage. His mind raced with jealousy, convincing himself that she was choosing Ethan over him. "She's with him again," Alexander muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. "She's leaving me for him."

When Isabella returned home later that night, Alexander was waiting for her, his face a mask of fury. The air between them was thick with tension. "Where have you been?" he demanded, his voice a low growl as he stepped towards her.

Isabella was caught off guard by the intensity of his anger. "I went out with Ethan," she said, her voice trembling slightly, but trying to remain composed. "I needed some space."

"Space? Is that what you call it now?" Alexander spat, his eyes narrowing. "You're just a slut, aren't you? Always needing attention from whoever will give it to you."

His words cut deep, but Isabella stood her ground. "That's not true, Alexander. You know it's not."

But Alexander's jealousy had consumed him entirely. Without warning, he lashed out in a fit of rage, striking her hard across the face. Isabella stumbled back, stunned by the sudden violence, but before she could react, Alexander struck again and again, until she collapsed to the floor, bruised and shaking.

"You'll never leave me," he hissed through clenched teeth, looming over her. "Never. Do you hear me?"

Tears welled up in Isabella's eyes as she looked up at the man who had once seemed so charming, so caring. How had things gotten so bad? How had she allowed herself to become trapped in this nightmare?

The next morning, Alexander was gone, leaving Isabella alone in the house with Maria, the maid. When Maria entered Isabella's room to check on her, she gasped at the sight of the bruises covering her face and arms. "Oh, Miss Isabella," she whispered, her voice filled with concern as she gently began to tend to the wounds. "You poor thing… you need to leave this place."

Isabella's eyes, red from crying, met Maria's. "I can't, Maria. I don't know how to get away from him. He's always watching, always knows what I'm thinking."

Maria paused, her brow furrowing. "There's always a way out. You just have to be brave enough to take it."

A few days passed, and things seemed to calm between them, but the tension was still there, lurking beneath the surface. Then, one afternoon, Alexander approached her, his demeanor eerily calm. "My father is coming to visit tomorrow. He wants to meet my future wife," he said, his voice steady, but his eyes dark and threatening. "I need you to be on your best behavior. Do you understand?"

Isabella felt her stomach churn. The last thing she wanted was to play the role of the perfect fiancée for Alexander's father, but she knew she had no choice. The consequences of defiance were written clearly on her bruised skin.

"Yes, I understand," she murmured, lowering her gaze to the floor.

The following day, Alexander's father arrived, a tall, imposing man with a stern expression that matched his son's. As they all sat down to dinner, the older man turned his cold gaze toward Isabella, appraising her as though she were a prized possession.

"So, Isabella," he began, his voice sharp and calculated. "What are your plans once you're married to my son?"

Isabella swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I—I plan to support him in every way I can."

Alexander's father nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving hers. "Good. Loyalty is everything in this family. Betrayal is unforgivable."

Isabella nodded, her heart racing. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of their expectations. Every fiber of her being screamed to run, but she remained seated, the image of Alexander's fist fresh in her mind.

After the meal, as the men conversed in the living room, Isabella retreated to her bedroom, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. She needed a way out, a plan that would free her from this nightmare. And then she remembered: Ethan was coming to visit her later that week. He had promised to check on her after their night out. Maybe, just maybe, he could help her escape.

The day Ethan arrived, Isabella felt a surge of hope, but that hope was quickly dashed when she noticed Alexander lurking nearby, watching their every move. He knew. He always knew.

As Ethan entered the house, Alexander stepped forward, his eyes burning with hatred. "You'll never leave me," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You think I don't know what you're planning?"

Isabella backed away from him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I'm not planning anything, Alexander," she said, her voice trembling. "I just needed to see a friend."

But Alexander wasn't fooled. He grabbed her arm, his grip like a vice. "You belong to me," he growled. "And no one else."

At that moment, Ethan stepped in, his expression fierce. "Let her go," he demanded, his voice firm.

Alexander sneered. "This is none of your business."

Ethan took a step closer, his fists clenched. "It became my business the moment you started hurting her."

In the brief moment of distraction, Isabella pulled free from Alexander's grasp and ran. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew she had to get away, had to find a way out of the hell she was living in.

As she ran down the hallway, she heard Alexander's furious roar behind her. "You'll never escape me!"

But she didn't stop. She couldn't. Her heart pounded in her chest as she burst through the front door, Ethan right behind her. They ran to the car, barely making it inside before Alexander reached the door. As they sped away, Isabella glanced back, seeing Alexander standing in the doorway, his face twisted in rage.

"You did it," Ethan said, his voice filled with relief. "You're free."

But Isabella wasn't so sure. As the city lights blurred past them, she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't over, that Alexander wouldn't let her go so easily.

And she was right.

Not long after, as they drove along the highway, a black SUV appeared in the rearview mirror, tailing them closely. Isabella's heart dropped. "Ethan… I think we're being followed."

Ethan's eyes narrowed as he glanced in the mirror. "Hold on," he said, pressing down on the accelerator. But no matter how fast he drove, the SUV stayed on their tail, its menacing presence a constant reminder that they weren't safe yet.

As the SUV pulled up beside them, a group of men jumped out, grabbing Isabella and dragging her back toward the vehicle. Ethan fought back, but he was no match for the sheer number of them. As Isabella was thrown into the back of the SUV, she saw Ethan lying unconscious on the side of the road, her heart breaking.

Back at the house, Alexander was waiting, his expression unreadable as the men brought Isabella back inside. She looked into his eyes and saw something there—something darker than anger. It was a twisted, possessive kind of love.

"You'll never leave me," he said quietly, his voice filled with certainty.

But as Isabella lay there, bruised and broken, she made a silent vow. She would escape. No matter how long it took, no matter what it cost, she would find a way out. She had to.