Obscure • (GxG)

The Bonds That Bind

From an early age, I knew that everything I possessed in life was either gifted or manipulated into existence by my father, Adam. As the CEO of StarBound Innovations, one of the largest space technology networks, he wielded immense power and influence.

Conversations about business became a taboo subject in our household after my mother succumbed to cancer. Her death marked a turning point, transforming my father from a distant, driven businessman into an overly protective guardian.

While his intentions were cloaked in love and concern, they suffocated me under their weight.

Growing up, I was never alone. My father surrounded me with a phalanx of bodyguards, their omnipresence a constant reminder of the invisible chains that bound me. The most invasive measure was the chip implanted in my arm when I was seven—a procedure disguised as routine medical tests that required anesthesia. It wasn't until I turned eighteen that I discovered the true purpose of the implant: a device ensuring my father could always track my whereabouts.

Now, at twenty-four, the sense of imprisonment has only deepened, and my longing for freedom has become a distant memory, especially after the death of my husband, Liam. His loss was a shattering blow, extinguishing any remaining hope of escape from my father's grasp.

As a lawyer, I sought solace in my work, establishing my own firm, Ironclad Legal Associates. The company was a sanctuary where I could exert control, a sharp contrast to the helplessness I felt in my personal life. Yet, the events of the past few days had thrown even this refuge into disarray.

This evening, I found myself in one of my father's New York offices, the oppressive atmosphere reflected in the darkening sky outside, promising rain and storm.

I wore black dress pants, a tight, long-sleeved black blouse, and deep burgundy YSL heels, nearly as dark as the approaching storm clouds.

The looming tempest mirrored the turmoil within me, and I knew that the only way to sleep tonight would be through the aid of drugs—a single pill to obliterate consciousness and provide respite from my tormented thoughts. Although careful with my usage, the despair sometimes became overwhelming, casting doubts on the worth of continued existence.

Adam sat across from me, his questions relentless. My voice was hoarse from days of silence, my throat raw from the lack of speech and sustenance.

The sight of the masked figure haunted me, but I decided to withhold the details until I had deciphered the letter.

"Did the masked person do anything to you, Violet?" my father inquired, his voice laced with concern and a hint of fear.

I hesitated, my mind racing through the possibilities, before replying, "No, they approached me, but the police arrived before anything could happen. They disappeared as quickly as they came."

Adam's gaze was penetrating, seeking any hint of deceit. Satisfied with my response, he nodded, though his worry remained palpable. "Stay in the other apartment for now. This one is under investigation."

I agreed with a nod, rising from my seat. He enveloped me in a hug, his embrace warm and encompassing, but my body remained tense, my arms hanging limply at my sides.

There was a time when I cherished these hugs, when they symbolized safety and comfort. But now, they felt like a cage, a reminder of my entrapment. The years had hardened me, cooling my heart and altering my outlook.

I left the office, the bleak weather reflecting my mood. The driver opened the car door, and as I settled inside, I retrieved the envelope from my white Birkin bag. Carefully opening it, I was confronted with a username and password.

My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the name associated with the account—Liam.

The sight of his name stirred a flurry of emotions, memories of the man I once loved deeply. His ashes rested with his parents, yet his presence loomed large in this revelation. How had the masked intruder gained access to such intimate details?

Pushing aside the questions for later, I stored the envelope back in my bag, resolving to investigate tomorrow. The storm was already unleashing its fury, raindrops pelting the city with aggressive force. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, the clouds seeming to descend to ground level, obscuring buildings and heightening my sense of dread.

Arriving at my apartment, the driver parked in the indoor garage to shield me from the rain. I made my way to the penthouse with hurried steps, shedding my clothes and stepping into the hot shower. The water was a welcome relief, soothing my tense muscles and calming my frazzled nerves.

After the shower, I slipped into my pajamas and headed to bed, plugging my phone into the charger next to me.

The sound of a nearby lightning strike made the windows rattle, my heart racing in response.

Instinctively, I reached for the drawer to retrieve a pill, but before I could open the box, my phone rang with an unknown number.

With a sense of foreboding, I answered the call, the silence on the other end palpable.

My heart pounded as I realized who it must be. The masked figure had my number—of course they did, given their knowledge of Liam's account.

Gathering my courage, I broke the silence. "What do you want?"

A voice, deep and resonant yet unmistakably feminine and alluring, replied, "Do not even think about taking that pill."

Panic gripped me as I glanced around the room. How did she know? This was a new apartment. My thoughts raced, questions about her omnipresence flooding my mind.

"Do you really think I don't know what you're doing, Violet? I know where you are, and I know what you're about to do," she said, her tone shifting to one of gentle reproach.

My breath hitched, and I struggled to control my rising fear. "Breathe, Violet," she murmured soothingly, my breath became a gasp. Certainly I didn't know I was holding it. "There you go, darling."

Heat rose to my cheeks at the endearment, and I lay back down, dropping the pill box to the floor.

The voice on the other end was hypnotic, pulling me into a strange sense of security. "Listen to my voice," she instructed, her tone now tender and calming. I found it impossible to focus on anything else, her voice captivating in its beauty.

She began to hum softly, a melody that lulled my eyes shut and wrapped me in warmth.

The weight of exhaustion overtook me, and I succumbed to a deep, much-needed sleep.

The last thought in my mind was the inexplicable comfort her voice provided, an odd solace amid the chaos that had engulfed my life.