The Billionaire Prisoner

The room's air felt heavy, like something invisible was pressing on my chest, making breathing difficult. As I sat across from my father, I noticed new stress lines on his face. Marble floors were so clean they almost sparkled, reflecting the massive crystal chandelier above. However, all I could think about was how my life had changed the moment I entered this place.

"Roseline," my father said, trembling as if the weight of his request was too much.

I knew. I knew deep down.

I looked at him, the man I had always admired—strong and proud but now a shell. He ran his shaking hands through his thinning hair, his once-vibrant eyes now lifeless. I couldn't reach out to him to reassure him. I felt as though I was plunging into a void.

"Ronaldo has agreed to invest in the company," my father whispered. “He saved us, Rose. The company, house—everything.”

He didn't need to elaborate. I knew the price. Me.

I held the chair edge, my knuckles turning white as I tried to steady myself. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. I looked at my father, hoping he would take it back. I would awaken in my former bedroom, untouched by this nightmare.

The way my father looked at me broke my heart. Not a dream. It was real.

“He wants to marry you, Rose,” my father said slowly, painfully, like he was swallowing poison. "This is the only way."

Marry Ronaldo Santos. I shuddered at the name alone. I had only met him a few times at parties and charity galas, where he barely acknowledged me. But what I knew about him was enough. He was cruel, powerful, and inhumane. There were rumors that he had the ability to swiftly end lives. He was about to bind me for life.

"I can't, Dad." My voice was small and distant, like it wasn't mine. “There must be another way. Please.”

His head sank, and his shoulders slumped. Rose, there's none. If not, I would never ask this of you. This debt is too much. We'd lose everything. I would go to prison.”

I felt sick as my throat tightened and I tried to hold back tears. I wanted to scream at the injustice, but I couldn't. No point. I joined my father in the trap.

The study door creaked open, revealing Ronaldo Santos. His presence filled the room like a storm. He was tall and had broad shoulders that made the doorway seem small. His effortless grace added to his intimidation. His dark suit accentuated his sharp body lines with perfect tailoring. He resembled a ruthless billionaire.

His cold blue eyes met mine, stifling my heart. They were cold and unkind. Pure calculation. I could tell he was assessing me like a piece of property. A faint, knowing smile crossed his lips, but it was not funny.

"Miss Messi," he said, his voice low and velvety over steel. "I hope your dad explained?"

I was speechless. My mouth was dry and my body felt frozen. Though my body screamed at me to run away from him, I nodded.

"Good," he said, as if my silence sufficed. He moved into the room and sat next to my father, staring at me. His presence pulled all the air out of the room, making me dizzy.

"I know this isn't ideal for you, Roseline," Ronaldo said, his voice unnervingly calm, as if discussing business rather than the fact that he was about to take over my life. I believe this arrangement can be beneficial. For us both."

"Beneficial?" I repeated, shaking in disbelief. "You find this useful?"

He looked at me with unsettling intensity, his eyes darkening and his jaw clenching briefly before bending forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"Your father's company is about to collapse," he said coldly. The only reason he's not in prison is because of me. You would lose your home, lifestyle, and father's freedom without me. I think this is good."

His words shattered my heart. He was right. I wanted to hate him and scream that this was unfair, but he was right. They could have imprisoned my father, thereby destroying our family legacy. It didn't necessarily make the situation easier to accept.

"What about my wants?" I asked quietly but defiantly.

Ronaldo's face flickered—possibly surprise. Immediately, it was replaced by the same cold indifference.

"What you want is irrelevant," he concluded. It's how it is. I'll take care of everything if you marry me."

My stomach twisted as bile rose in my throat. There was no escape. No way out of this nightmare.

"When?" I spoke the question without thinking.

Ronaldo smiled predatorily again. "Tomorrow."

The word slammed me in the gut, and I struggled not to collapse. Tomorrow. Tomorrow would alter my life. His me.

I glanced at my father, but he remained uninterested. He sat defeated, staring at the floor.

I was alone.

Ronaldo got up and adjusted his suit jacket like it was business. I'll send a car in the morning. Be ready."

His presence followed him like a black cloud as he turned and walked towards the door. He turned to me before leaving. He stared at me, and I saw a hunger that shook me to the core.

"You’ll learn to play your part, Roseline," he said softly but authoritatively. "Or there will be consequences."

He left, leaving the room colder and emptier.

I sat stunned, numb, and confused. It was too late to change my fate.

And as I stared at the door where Ronaldo had disappeared, a terrifying thought came to me.

What if I died? What if life with him was worse than I imagined?

What if it was too late to escape?