Escape plan......

Isabella knew she had to play it smart. Alexander was still distant, cold as ever, and despite the fact that she had become his prisoner, he had not let his guard down even once. There was no warmth in his words, no affection in his touch. He kept her at arm's length, watching her closely as though he anticipated resistance. But Isabella had long since stopped hoping for kindness. She had another plan, and that plan involved playing the part of the perfect prisoner—no resistance, no complaints. She would be the dutiful girlfriend, compliant, smiling when needed, docile to avoid arousing his suspicion. She needed him to believe she was happy, content in her gilded cage.

"I'll be the perfect girlfriend," she whispered to herself late at night, alone in her room. The moonlight slanted through the barred windows, casting long shadows on the floor. "I'll make him think I've changed."

It wasn't an easy decision, but Isabella knew it was the only way she could survive long enough to escape. For days, she transformed herself into the person Alexander wanted her to be. She smiled on command, laughed at his cruel jokes, and agreed with every condescending remark. She swallowed her pride, every 'yes' she uttered scraping her throat raw, but she never faltered.

"Yes, Alexander, I'll do that," she would say sweetly, her voice dripping with false devotion.

He seemed to relish it. "I'm so happy to see you're finally getting your senses, Isabella," he would reply, his voice oozing with patronizing satisfaction.

He believed her act. For now. He stopped beating her, stopped threatening her with that venomous glare. She even noticed he visited her room less frequently, as if her compliance had sapped some of the joy from his cruel games.

Isabella, however, never let her guard down. Behind the mask of subservience, her mind was sharp, calculating. Every moment spent with him was an exercise in control. She was playing him, and every sweet smile she gave, every compliance to his will, was one more step toward her freedom.

"I'm just trying to make things work, Alexander," she would say, her eyes cast downward, her tone drenched in false humility.

And for a while, it worked. Alexander grew more smug with each passing day, believing he had finally broken her spirit. He even started boasting to his business associates about how he had tamed her, how she had "finally learned her place." His arrogance was her greatest weapon. He was blind to the truth.

He didn't realize she was merely biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

That moment arrived when Alexander announced he would be hosting a dinner party at his estate. It was a gathering for his colleagues, clients, and office workers—a grand display of his power and wealth.

"The perfect opportunity," Isabella thought, her mind racing with possibilities. He would be distracted, showing off to his guests, too preoccupied to pay attention to her. She could slip away in the chaos.

She confided in Maria, her maid, who had become more than just a servant. Maria had seen the horrors Isabella had endured, had wiped away her tears in secret, and had silently agreed to help her escape. Over the past few months, they had shared whispered plans in the dead of night, plotting for the day they would finally make their move.

"We have to do it now, Maria," Isabella whispered as they prepared for the party. "We can't wait any longer. Tonight's the night."

Maria's eyes sparkled with determination. "I'll help you, Isabella. I'll do everything I can."

Together, they finalized their plan. They would wait until the dinner was in full swing, when Alexander was distracted, likely showing off for his clients. Then they would slip away, make their way to the docks where a small boat would be waiting for them—arranged in secret by Maria.

The night of the party arrived. Isabella played her role perfectly, dressed in an elegant gown, her hair styled flawlessly. She smiled at the guests, conversed politely, and even stood beside Alexander, her hand resting lightly on his arm, playing the part of the devoted partner. Alexander was too caught up in his own self-importance to notice anything amiss.

When the moment came, Isabella and Maria slipped out unnoticed. Her heart pounded in her chest as they crept through the grand estate and out into the night. The moon illuminated their path as they made their way to the dock, every step filled with tension. They were so close.

Finally, they reached the boat, a small vessel hidden beneath the shadows. Maria helped Isabella climb aboard, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

"We did it," Isabella gasped, her voice barely above a whisper as they pushed off from the shore. The sound of the water lapping against the boat was almost too quiet, too calm compared to the frantic beating of her heart.

But even as they sailed away, Isabella couldn't shake the feeling of dread. She wasn't safe yet. Alexander would soon realize she was gone, and when he did, he would come for her.

"We have to be careful," Maria warned, her eyes scanning the horizon, her voice low and urgent. "He'll be looking for us. He won't stop until he finds you."

Isabella nodded, though her eyes were fixed on the distant shore, now growing smaller with each passing second. She could almost see Alexander's estate fading into the night, a dark shadow of the life she was leaving behind.

"I know," Isabella whispered, a strange mixture of fear and relief swelling inside her chest. "But I'm finally free. I'm finally me."

As the boat glided further into the vast, open sea, Isabella allowed herself to smile. It was a small smile, tinged with the weight of everything she had endured, but it was real. She was no longer Alexander's prisoner. She was free—at least for now.

But the danger wasn't over.

---

Back at the estate, Alexander's face twisted in rage when he realized Isabella was gone. He had spent years breaking her, molding her into what he wanted, and now she had the audacity to escape?

"She thinks she can get away from me?" he snarled, his fists clenched in fury.

Without hesitation, he summoned his guards, barking orders at them with wild, barely controlled anger. "Find her. I want her back, and I want her now."

But it was too late. Isabella and Maria were long gone, sailing away from the shore, far out of reach—at least for the moment.

As Alexander paced, fuming, plotting his next move, Isabella and Maria sailed deeper into the night, knowing that freedom was still a fragile thing. Alexander would stop at nothing to reclaim what he thought belonged to him.

"We have to keep moving," Maria said, her eyes never leaving the horizon. "He'll come after us."

Isabella nodded, her heart pounding with the knowledge that the fight was far from over.

But for the first time in years, she felt hope.