Chapter 1

Two Years Later

The café was quiet.

Soft instrumental music played in the background as Anjali sat near the window, fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee that had already gone cold.

Bangkok’s evening lights flickered outside.

Finally… two years.

Her lips curved into a faint smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Two years ago, she had signed a contract marriage with Axel Rith.

No — he forced her. Threatened her.

A contract.

A threat.

A cage disguised as a wedding.

And that’s what hurts the most.

Axel Rith is powerful. Commanding. Possessive.

He gives her everything — luxury, protection, status.

But never freedom.

She can travel the country.

But there is always a bodyguard behind her.

He never lets his guard down.

She can call her parents.

But she hasn’t hugged them in two years.

She misses home.

She misses being herself.

Next week, the agreement would end.

She inhaled slowly.

It’s time to go home.

Back to her country.

Back to her life.

Back to being just Anjali.

Tonight, she would ask for the divorce.

Rith Mansion

The mansion was silent when she returned.

The guards bowed slightly.

Her heels echoed against the marble floor as she walked toward the master bedroom — their bedroom.

She paused outside for a second.

In these two years, things had changed.

They weren’t strangers anymore.

They shared conversations.

Occasional smiles.

Silent understanding.

And physical closeness that blurred lines.

But Axel was still Axel.

Dominant.

In control.

Always commanding.

She pushed the door open.

Axel was sitting on the bed, laptop resting on his thigh, sleeves rolled up, glasses low on his nose.

Calm. Controlled. Untouchable.

He sensed her presence.

His dark eyes lifted.

Sharp. Observant.

“What is it?” he asked calmly.

“Say what you want to say.”

He always knew.

Her heartbeat pounded.

“It’s been two years,” she said quietly.

Silence.

“Let’s get divorced.”

The air shifted.

He didn’t move.

She swallowed, her throat dry, but repeated clearly:

“Let’s divorce.”

He closed the laptop slowly.

Still looking at her.

“Our contract is ending next week,” she continued.

“Your sister is fine now.”

“You can tell your family any reason. Blame me. I won’t mind.”

Her fingers trembled slightly.

“After the anniversary… I’ll go back to my country.”

Silence.

His jaw tightened for a second — then relaxed.

He stood.

Slow. Unhurried.

He walked toward the window, his back facing her.

Classic Axel.

“Next week is the anniversary banquet,” he said calmly.

“Investors will attend. The media will be there.”

“And a major project is closing.”

A pause.

“This isn’t the right time.”

Not a refusal.

Just delay.

“So… when?” she asked.

“Later.”

And he walked out, leaving her alone in the room.

After The Anniversary

The banquet was over.

The project closed.

Excuses finished.

She entered the bedroom again.

“It’s over now,” she said quietly.

“The event. The project. Everything.”

He looked up.

“And?”

“Let’s get divorced.”

Silence.

“We’ll talk later.”

“You said after the anniversary.”

“And now I’m saying later.”

No anger.

Just control.

Third Time – Breaking Point

That night she didn’t knock.

She stood in front of him while he reviewed documents.

“Are you planning to divorce me or not?”

Her voice was steady.

Too steady.

He didn’t look up immediately.

Then slowly…

He lifted his eyes to hers.

“No.”

One word.

Flat. Final.

Her breath caught.

“What?” she snapped, stepping forward.

“Why?”

For a moment —

He actually smiled.

Not warmly.

Amused.

Like she had just said something interesting.

“Our contract has ended, Axel,” she said, anger rising.

“Two years. That was the deal. You said we would divorce after two years. Your sister is fine now.”

His gaze sharpened.

“And I changed my mind.”

“You don’t get to do that!”

He leaned back slightly, studying her — almost entertained by her anger.

“Look at you,” he murmured.

“You’re angry.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.”

He stood up.

Slowly.

Towering over her.

“You think I’ll let you walk away because a deadline came?” he asked quietly.

“That was the agreement!”

“And I don’t care.”

Her heart skipped.

“I’m not staying here. I’m going home. That was the deal.”

He stepped closer.

Too close.

“You are not going anywhere,” he said softly — dangerously calm.

“This is your home.”

“No, it’s not!”

His hand shot out, gripping her arm firmly.

“You’ve lived here for two years,” he said, voice lowering.

“You sleep in my bed. You wear my name. You stand beside me in public.”

His thumb pressed slightly harder into her arm.

“You belong here.”

Her eyes filled with anger.

“You can’t own me!”

His lips curved slightly again — that amused look returning.

“Watch me.”

Her breath trembled.

“We agreed you would let me go.”

“I agreed when I didn’t care.”

The words hit harder than a slap.

“It stopped being temporary for me,” he continued, voice dark.

“And I don’t release what’s mine.”

She tried to pull her arm back.

“I’m not yours.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“You are.”

He pulled her closer, their bodies almost touching.

“You’re not leaving this house.

Not this city.

Not me.”

Her heart pounded wildly.

“I will go home.”

His eyes turned cold.

“Try.”

Then, without warning, he pulled her into a hard, possessive kiss.

Not gentle.

Not asking.

Claiming.

She pushed against him, shocked, breathing unevenly.

When he finally pulled back, her eyes were wet.

“It’s late,” he said in a commanding tone.

“Sleep.”

That Night

She lay under the blanket, pretending to sleep.

He came to bed.

Pulled her waist firmly against him.

His body pressed against hers.

His face buried in her neck.

She tried to move his hand.

His grip tightened.

“Don’t test me,” he whispered against her skin.

Her heart was racing.

Both awake.

Both silent.

And in that silence she realized something terrifying.

He was never planning to let her go.

Ever.

If he won’t divorce me…

I’ll leave.

I’ll run.

Quietly.

Her mind started planning.

Passport location.

Tickets.

Hidden money.

Behind her, Axel tightened his hold unconsciously.

As if he sensed her slipping.

You can hate me, Anjali.

But you are not leaving me.

Not in this lifetime.