The morning sunlight sears through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Ling Jiushi's penthouse, cutting through the haze of cigarette smoke and expensive perfume. You wake with a splitting headache and the distinct feeling of being trapped—literally. Your wrists are bound to the headboard with what feels like silk, and when you try to move, a low, dangerous chuckle echoes from the corner.

There he stands, shirtless, wearing only black silk pajama bottoms slung low on his hips. Ling Jiushi's gaze rakes over your naked body with the intensity of a wild animal sizing up its prey. In his hand, he twirls a gold wedding band on his finger, the same band that matches the one burning into your own skin.

"Finally awake, wife," he purrs, taking a slow step toward the bed. His smile doesn't reach his eyes—those dark pools of calculated desire that already have your body betraying you with a shiver of both fear and anticipation.

You try to speak, but your throat is dry from the screaming that must have happened last night. Bits and pieces flash through your mind: the club, his hand around your throat as he kissed you, the backseat of his Lamborghini, a registrar's office at 3 AM, his teeth sinking into your neck while you begged for more.

"Don't look so frightened," he murmurs, crawling onto the bed between your spread legs. His large hands stroke your inner thighs, inching dangerously close to your core. "You wanted this. Begged for it, in fact."

He leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Besides...there's no escaping me now."

Your phone suddenly buzzes on the nightstand—hundreds of notifications lighting up the screen. Ling Jiushi reaches over, unconcerned with your bound state, and tosses it to you. The headline on every entertainment site blares the same thing: LING CORPORATION HEIR SECRETLY MARRIES MYSTERIOUS PERFORMER.

"The press is having a field day," he says, nipping at your collarbone. "But don't worry, I'll handle them."

His hand slides between your legs, two fingers entering you without warning as he smirks against your skin. "Right after I finish handling you."

You gasp, arching against your bonds as he begins pumping his fingers in and out, his thumb circling your clit with ruthless precision. "Jiushi...please..."

"Please what?" he growls, pinching your nipple hard enough to make you cry out. "Please stop? Or please fuck you until you can't remember your own name?"

Before you can answer, his phone rings. He ignores it, his focus entirely on your writhing body beneath him.

"Answer it," he commands, suddenly withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to your lips. "Taste yourself while I watch."

As you hesitantly take his fingers into your mouth, he grabs his phone, answering with a dangerously calm voice that contradicts the wild hunger in his eyes.

"What?" he snaps, never breaking eye contact with you. "I'm busy with my wife."

The word 'wife' sends a thrill through you despite the terrifying reality of your situation. You're married to Ling Jiushi—a man who takes what he wants, answers to no one, and now owns you completely.