I became a full-time gilded bird at eighteen. By twenty-eight, my keeper was getting married, but he still hadn’t grown tired of me. At his bachelor party just before the wedding, I went to pick him up. Standing outside the VIP suite, I overheard one of his friends ask, “You’re getting married next week. Has your little pet on the side been throwing a tantrum?” Chris sat with his legs crossed, entirely unbothered. “She did. Made a demand.” “Money or a title?” The friend assumed those were the only two options. Chris let out a soft, dismissive chuckle. “She said she wants to go to Cambridge.” The room erupted into laughter. “A high school dropout wanting to go to Cambridge? She’s dreaming!” Chris smiled with lazy indulgence, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “She’s my bird. If I don’t spoil her, who will?” Armed with those words, I chose to ignore the mockery of his friends and let myself believe him. Three months later, Chris kept his promise and drove me to a school. “Camden Bridge Technical Institute.” Hands shoved in his pockets, he gestured toward the drab, run-down building with his chin. “Go on, get your education. With your level, you wouldn’t survive a day in England anyway. Better to stick to the bootleg version close to home.” When I didn’t move, he chuckled. Tilting my chin up with his fingers, he murmured, “What? Not satisfied? You set a bar higher than the stars just because you wanted to become Mrs. Lancaster, didn’t you?” I jerked my head away, pulled my perfect French scorecard from my bag, and slapped it against his chest. “Chris, I was ready. I just didn’t expect you to be this useless.” … Chris looked down at the certificate in his hand. He froze for a second, then flipped through it carelessly, letting out a sharp laugh. “Fiona, we really are a match made in heaven. I find you a knockoff college, and you hand me a fake certificate?” “It’s a bit of a shame you can never be Mrs. Lancaster…” He seemed to think of something and laughed even more mockingly. “You didn’t actually think a Cambridge degree would get you past my family’s door, did you?” I looked at him, my own smile laced with sarcasm. “I have self-awareness, Mr. Lancaster.” In his wealthy, elite circle, women like me were nothing more than playthings. Even after ten years of devotion, that was still all I was to him. “But still, I gave you ten years of my life. When it’s all over, you can’t even manage to get me a proper education?” Chris looked down at me, his expression dripping with arrogance. “Darling, I’d love to help, but you haven’t touched a textbook in a decade. You simply can’t get into a university like that.” “Besides, the UK isn’t my family’s playground. Did you really think you could fool me with a forged test score?” I looked him dead in the eye, my voice steady and deadly serious. “It’s not fake. While you were busy planning your wedding, I was studying.” Chris chuckled, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek. “Are you jealous?” “Your acting is incredible; you almost had me fooled. Maybe I should put you in the movies. You’d make a stunning star.” I tilted my head to avoid his touch, letting out a bitter laugh. “Chris, do you even know who I am?” The year I moved into his penthouse, I was the valedictorian who had walked away from a near-perfect SAT score and an Ivy League offer. Back then, I had the intellect, but I didn’t have the means to pay off my family’s million-dollar debt. Today, I still have the mind, but he has bought my freedom. The midday sun was scorching, eating away at Chris’s patience. His tone grew cold. “Of course I know you. You’re putting on this whole show just to remind me not to ignore you, aren’t you?” At that, I fell completely silent. This conversation was a dead end. As my keeper, Chris had given his bird the finest cage, the best food, and the most luxurious life. He expected nothing but endless gratitude. How could he ever understand that what a bird wants most is the open sky? “Are you going to study here or not?” he demanded. “No.” “Fine. I’ll give you one last chance to ask for something else.” “Send me to Cambridge.” Chris’s eyes darkened completely. He let out a cold sneer. “I’ve spoiled you too much.” With that, he got into his car and slammed on the gas, abandoning me there in the middle of nowhere, where even getting an Uber was impossible. My face grew pale under the blistering sun. I pulled out my phone and dialed the study-abroad agency. The counselor’s voice was professional: “The fastest route now is to sit for the A-Level exams. You need straight A’s to even have a shot at an offer.” “Then there’s the visa process. You’ll need proof of funds—at least seventy-thousand dollars up front in an account, and we conservatively estimate subsequent expenses to be around another hundred and fifty thousand.” I swayed slightly. I didn’t have that kind of money. Chris rarely gave me cash; if I wanted something, he had his assistant buy it. I knew why. He was terrified I would run with the money—a story as old as time in his wealthy circle. Lowering my eyes, I whispered into the receiver, “Let’s start with the exams. I’ll figure out the money.” I had been a kept woman for so long. If I wasn’t in it for the money, was I supposed to be in it for love? Since everyone assumed my greed was the only thing keeping me here, I might as well take the money and run. I ended up taking a bumpy local bus back to the city. The motion sickness made my stomach cramp violently. Mustering every ounce of strength, I caught a train back. By the time I unlocked the front door of the penthouse, I felt half-dead. The house was pitch black. Too exhausted to even flip the light switch, I stumbled through the dark toward the bedroom. “Have you learned your lesson?” Chris’s voice sliced through the silence. He was sitting in the shadows, making me jump. I froze, taking a moment to catch my breath before replying quietly, “Yes.” I paused. “Chris, I don’t want to go to school anymore. Just give me the money instead. Not much—just two hundred thousand dollars.” To men like him, two hundred thousand was pocket change, the cost of a few lavish dinners. But Chris just let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the sofa. “Suddenly, I don’t feel like giving it to you.” “Why?” My voice sounded like dying embers. “No reason.” He spoke with the casual indifference of a man who answered to no one. That was Chris. Intractable, unpredictable. He had paid off my family’s half-million-dollar debt without blinking, yet he begrudged me a fraction of that now. He felt nothing for me, yet he refused to let me go. A sudden spark of anger flared in my chest. I spat out, “Is Lancaster Enterprises going bankrupt? Or are you turning into one of those cheap, married old men who counts every penny they spend on their mistresses?” Chris stood up and closed the distance between us, the scent of expensive tobacco invading my senses. “Fiona, sometimes I really want to pull every single thorn out of you.” His fingers trailed along my bare arm, sending a cold shiver down my spine. Then he withdrew his hand, sighing with mock regret. “But then again, you wouldn’t be nearly as much fun without them.” He tossed a couple of designer shopping bags from the sofa toward me. “My wife keeps a tight leash on the finances, so I can’t give you cash. But gifts are fine.” He offered a mocking smile. “And she keeps a tight leash on me, too. I have to go back and keep her company.” “If she’s that strict, shouldn’t you be a devoted husband, Mr. Lancaster?” I sneered. Chris paused at the entryway and chuckled. “You’re a bird, Fiona. She’s a human. There’s no conflict.” The front door clicked shut. I threw the luxury shopping bags onto the floor in a fit of rage, but immediately thought of their resale value and humiliatingly picked them up, smoothing out the creases. Staring at those glossy bags, a profound wave of grief washed over me. Years ago, I had tried to run. Chris had dragged me back within forty-eight hours. After that, I stopped trying, mostly because he wasn’t married yet. My one remaining boundary was that I would never be the other woman. My mother had been a mistress. The legal wife had set a trap for her, leaving her penniless, humiliated, and buried under a mountain of debt. I was the one who had to pay for her sins. Now, I was sliding down the exact same slope. I didn’t know if I could survive the fallout this time. The next morning, I picked up the study materials from the agency before heading straight to a luxury consignment shop to sell the clothes and bags Chris had given me. But the moment I laid the handbag on the counter, a beautifully dressed woman storming into the shop slapped me hard across the face. “You shameless thief! You stole my clothes and bags yesterday, and you’re already trying to pawn them today?” The woman was Isabella Croft, Chris’s new wife. She had been waiting for me. Panic seized my chest. I had no shield, no defense. I could only stand there silently as she produced the receipts and called the police. The total value of the items was high enough to qualify as grand larceny. She wanted me behind bars. Sitting in the interrogation room, the detectives asked me, “Did you steal these items?” I wanted to deny it. But explaining the truth meant admitting I was a mistress, that Isabella’s husband had gifted them to me. In the eyes of the law and public opinion, that would just drag me into a different kind of ruin. Just as the pressure was mounting and I was about to speak, Chris walked in. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Isabella, his voice dripping with gentle concern. “Who upset you, sweetheart? Why didn’t you call me first?” Isabella glared at him, pouting. “Oh, stop pretending, Chris.” Chris shrugged, his gaze finally shifting to me. I was already looking at him, my eyes filled with raw, helpless pleading—just like the day I had begged him to save me ten years ago. But this time, Chris didn’t help. He just smiled. “A formal trial is such a hassle. Why don’t we just hold her for ten days? Let my wife get a little peace of mind.” He leaned down, whispering in Isabella’s ear, his tone deliberately sweet. “What do you say, darling?” Isabella’s cheeks flushed. “Fine. We’ll let her off easy this once.” From beginning to end, Chris never offered a single word of explanation. He had happily joined his wife in treating me like a plaything. In that moment, I knew that if I didn’t escape, they would eventually destroy me. Ten days later, I was released. My clothes hung loosely on my thin frame, hiding the bruises that covered my body. I had been beaten inside. Every pack has an alpha, even in a holding cell. From day one, the dominant woman took a dislike to me. She and her cronies spent ten days making my life a living hell. The excuses changed daily: because I was too pretty, because I stayed silent, because I spoke up, because I refused to grovel at their feet. They built a miniature hell and kept me in it for ten days. Back at the penthouse, I stood under the shower for a long, long time, desperately trying to wash away the grime and the shame. Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. Chris leaned against the frame, letting out a soft sigh. “My poor little bird.” Despite his words, there wasn’t a shred of pity in his eyes. I turned away, swallowing my humiliation. “Do you know what you did wrong this time, little bird?” he asked. “Those animals in there… you paid them, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice flat. Chris raised his hands in mock innocence. “Now, how could you say that? I could never bear to hurt you. But my wife was still furious, and she insisted on pulling a few strings. I couldn’t exactly tell her no.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. His silent permission was no different from pulling the trigger himself. I shut off the water and began to dry myself. Chris stepped onto the wet floor, taking the ointment to apply it to my bruises. “No more selling the things I buy you, little bird. Understand?” His voice was thick. I took a step back, cutting through the heavy air. “Then give me cash.” “What do you need cash for? Have I ever let you go hungry or cold?” “I want to go to school.” At that, Chris deliberately pressed down on a fresh bruise. I gasped from the sharp pain. His voice turned ice-cold. “What’s the point of school? When you’re done, you’ll still end up right back in my bed. Do they teach you how to please me in college?” I wanted to tell him that I was going to university so I could go far away—somewhere so distant that he would forget my name, and I could finally bury the past. I wanted to live the life I had planned ten years ago, full of color and purpose. But I kept my mouth shut. I couldn’t say those things to him. We ended the night in cold silence. Sensing my defiance, Chris locked me inside the penthouse the next day and stationed guards outside the door. I didn’t care. My only goal was to get those straight A’s. Being locked inside just gave me the perfect, uninterrupted environment to study. After a few days of online classes, my tutor suddenly changed. Looking at the handsome young man on my screen, memories flooded back. It was my high school rival and desk partner, Wyatt Hawthorne. “My sister had an emergency, so I’m covering for her today,” he explained, looking just as shocked to see me. He kept his composure, keeping the explanation brief so we could get through the lesson. After class, we talked. He asked why I had vanished off the face of the earth after graduation, but I skirted around the question. Wyatt didn’t press. Instead, he caught me up on his own life. His family’s business was headquartered in London, and he had taken over the reins after finishing his degree. As he spoke, an idea began to take root in my mind. After a long pause, I asked, “Wyatt, are you interested in making an investment?” He paused, his bright eyes searching mine through the screen. Then he smiled. “I’m listening.” Chris kept me locked up for a full month. In the past, I would have gone mad. But now, my mind was entirely consumed by my studies. I worked day and night, barely sleeping four hours a day. When Chris finally came back, he was greeted by my pale, ghostly face. He frowned in disgust. “What happened to my little bird? You look like a ghost.” I rolled my eyes. “And whose fault is that?” Chris seemed to be in a good mood; he merely laughed. “My mistake. I’ll take my little bird out for a walk tonight.” True to his word, he took me to a high-society gala that evening. The moment we arrived, the whispers started. “I thought Chris and Isabella just got back from a month-long honeymoon. They seemed so happy. I figured he’d finally dumped this one.” Another voice sneered, “Men get bored. You can’t look at the same face forever.” Only then did I realize Chris had spent the past month traveling with Isabella. I lowered my eyes, taking a silent sip of champagne. Chris looked down at me, his tone teasing. “Jealous? I’ll take you on a trip next time, okay?” I looked up sharply, my eyes bright with sudden hope. “Could you take me to London?” Chris’s brow furrowed. “Are you still obsessed with Cambridge?” I shook my head quickly. “No. I just want to see the world with you.” His expression softened, and he agreed. “Alright. I promise.” A quiet wave of relief washed over me. In my mind, I checked off another box on my timeline. Halfway through the gala, Chris left to mingle. I slipped out to the quiet back garden to get some fresh air. I had barely stepped onto the stone path when a hand clamped onto my arm. “You little bitch! I finally found you!” I spun around, staring in disbelief at the haggard face. It was my mother, who was supposed to be behind bars. “When did you get out?!” Years ago, desperate to settle her debts, she had colluded with a loan shark ring to sell me off. I had found out in time and called the police, landing her and the entire gang in prison. I had no idea she had been released. “You heartless brat, you didn’t even come look for me when I got paroled,” she spat, her breath smelling of cheap liquor. “Give me money. I’m completely broke.” I eyed her warily, my voice cold. “I don’t have any money.” “You’re sleeping with a billionaire and you have no money?” Her voice shrieked, slicing through the quiet night. “I don’t. You need to leave right now before he sees you. He won’t let you off easy.” Her face twisted into a vicious sneer. “I gave you a chance, Fiona. Don’t blame me for being cruel.” Before I could react, she pressed a chemically treated cloth over my nose and mouth. Within seconds, my limbs went limp, all the strength draining from my body. A short distance away, a heavy-set, greasy-looking man stepped out from the shadows, rubbing his hands together. “I hear plenty of rich bastards in this town would pay top dollar for you,” my mother whispered, her voice laced with greed. “I’ll auction you off to the highest bidder.” Her voice was thick with excitement. A cold dread settled in my chest, but as my vision began to blur, I spotted a figure standing near the glass doors of the terrace. It was Chris. Hands tucked casually in his pockets, he stood there, watching the scene unfold with a faint, amused smile. It was an invitation—a test of my loyalty. I swallowed the panic and screamed with the last of my strength, “Chris! Help me!” A look of profound satisfaction washed over his face, and he stepped briskly toward us. Terrified, my mother dropped me and bolted into the shadows. Chris caught me just before I hit the ground. Shivering violently in his arms, I gritted my teeth. “If I hadn’t called your name, would you have just stood there and watched?” He smiled, his voice oozing faux innocence. “You’re my bird, darling. Why would I ever give you away?” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “I just wanted you to see that in this world, I am your only salvation. Your mother won’t protect you, and you certainly can’t protect yourself.” I stared at him, the horrifying truth clicking into place. He had tipped off my mother. From the very beginning, this was his design to make me realize that my only lifeline was Chris Lancaster himself. But he didn’t realize that every living creature will fight to the death for survival. I still had one card left to play. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I let my voice soften into a fragile whisper. “You’re right… I only have you.” My submission worked. Chris finally lifted the restrictions on my freedom, and two months later, I sat for my A-Level exams. When the results were posted, I had achieved straight A’s. Even my tutor was stunned. “You’re a brilliant mind, Fiona. It makes no sense that you never went to college.” I kept my head down, offering a small smile. “Even brilliant minds have bills to pay.” With my scores in hand, I slowly coaxed Chris into taking me to the UK. The night he booked the tickets, he held me close, his voice low and testing. “How did that little exam of yours go?” My fingers trembled slightly, but my voice remained steady. “Oh, it was fine. Just wanted to see what it felt like to study again.” He traced a finger down my spine, his eyes glinting with a soft threat. “It’s fine to play around.” “But if you try to enroll anywhere here, I can always have you pulled out. And as for schools abroad… without my money, you’d be thrown out before the first semester ends anyway.” I leaned against his chest, adopting my most compliant tone. “I know. I’m staying right here by your side.” Chris smiled, satisfied. Three days later, we boarded our first-class flight to London. I spent the entire journey staring out the window, my mind racing. Chris noticed. “Why so tense?” I took his hand, letting it tremble. “It’s my first time flying. I’m just a little scared.” He gave a soft, dismissive snort. “Pathetic.” But he signaled the flight attendant to bring over two glasses of wine, handing one to me. “Drink up. You’ll sleep through the rest of the flight.” I took the glass, leaning my head against his shoulder as the shadows in my eyes deepened. “Okay.” An hour later, the cabin lights dimmed, and we both drifted into a deep sleep. … When the plane touched down in Turkey for our layover, Chris was awakened by the flight attendant. He instinctively turned his head, and when his eyes met the empty seat beside him, his chest tightened. “Where is the woman who was sitting next to me?” Startled by his sharp tone, the flight attendant struggled to maintain her professional smile. “Sir, the lady got off the plane first.” “She even told me to let you sleep a bit longer. Weren’t you parting ways here?”
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