Chapter 5

When Isabella regained consciousness, she was lying on a large bed in a room she didn't recognize. Just as confusion swamped her, she saw Adrian asleep beside her. His profile was as gentle and handsome as ever, and for a moment, it felt as if everything that had happened was just a nightmare. She lifted a hand, reaching to touch his face. But the movement tugged at every wound across her body, and sharp pain shot through her, dragging her back to reality. Sensing her motion, Adrian's eyes snapped open. He tenderly grasped her hand. "Babe…" Tears welled up in Isabella's eyes, spilling uncontrollably. She shook off his hand and struggled to sit up, but then froze the moment she did. Her thick, flowing hair that should have tumbled over her shoulders was gone. Her hands trembled as they reached for her head. The unfamiliar touch of her bare scalp sent a shiver down her spine. Where lush, seaweed-like hair had once covered her head, there was now only smooth skin. Ignoring the tears streaking her face, she turned her head, staring defiantly into Adrian's eyes. "My hair… What happened to my hair?" Meeting her accusatory gaze, his heart clenched. A trace of guilt shadowed his features. He pressed his lips together, speaking softly, "Your hair was covered in superglue. It was impossible to wash out, and my fiancee was very upset when she saw it. We had no choice but to shave it all off." "But don't worry," he continued, his hand rising to cup her face, his thumb gently wiping away tears that only fell faster. "I've already commissioned a custom wig. It will be exactly like your previous hair…" "Adrian, are you satisfied now? Is this the result you wanted?" Isabella's voice cracked. "Your 'love' only brings me pain, and you're a liar." Her words tumbled out incoherently, large tears rolling down her cheeks. No matter how she raged and insulted him, Adrian listened quietly to her outpouring of pent-up emotions. Seeing fresh blood seep through her bandages from her struggles, he stood and fetched the gauze, carefully re-dressing her wounds. His bangs fell forward, shadowing his eyes, so Isabella couldn't see his expression. All she knew was that his movements were gentle and focused. The relentless blows pushed the turbulent emotions inside her toward a breaking point. "I'm not interested in being your mistress. Let's break up. It's better for both of us." His Adam's apple bobbed, and a chill hardened his eyes. "No way." His tone was calm, almost dismissive. "The second you leave me, some man will use you and toss you aside. Whether you like it or not, staying with me is your best option." Meeting her still-defiant gaze, Adrian rose. He cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. "Babe, you are forever mine. I won't let you leave me, even if I have to chain you." Isabella's heart skipped a beat. She looked down and saw a tracking device locked around her ankle. "Adrian, what the hell is this? This is a crime," she spat, glaring at him in fury. Facing her accusation, Adrian only chuckled as his fingers stroked her cheek. "I'm just keeping the one I love by my side forever. How is that a crime?" He leaned in as if to kiss her, but a sudden, urgent ringtone cut through the moment. The name "Samantha" flashing on the screen tempered the madness in his eyes. He simply said, "Get some rest." With that, he turned and left the room. The door slammed shut, leaving Isabella alone. She groped around the bed for her phone, her panic rising, only to find it gone. She scrambled to her feet and searched the room for a way out, only to discover in horror that all the windows were sealed shut. Besides the locked door, there was no escape. Helplessness clawed at her chest. In a sudden surge of rage, she grabbed a nearby lamp and smashed it to the floor. Anything within reach—glasses, the first-aid kit, decorations—became targets for her raging pain. She didn't know how much time had passed when she finally collapsed from exhaustion. Then, Adrian's voice came through a speaker in the room. "Are you feeling better now, babe? Don't think about leaving. This room's under full surveillance and has no blind spots. I can see your every move. Get some rest. I'll see you in the morning." Isabella slumped to the floor. Slowly, she calmed down, and her eyes gradually cleared. She was completely isolated. Knowing it was pointless to make a scene, she crawled back into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and fell asleep.