Chapter 3 - Waking Up in a Golden CageWhen I finally opened my eyes three days later, the stark, antiseptic smell of the hospital room was replaced by the rich scent of mahogany, fresh white lilies, and expensive cardamom.
My throat felt like it was coated in sand, and every time I tried to draw a breath, a sharp, stabbing pain radiated across my ribs.
“Easy, cara. Don't try to move.”
The deep, gravelly voice startled me. I turned my head slowly on the plush goose-down pillows—pillows that definitely didn't belong to a standard county hospital—and found Dominic Rossi sitting in a wingback leather chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark stubble shadowing his jaw.
I tried to speak, but only a dry rasp came out.
Dominic immediately poured a paper cup of ice water, inserted a bendable straw, and held it gently to my lips. I drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing my raw throat.
“Where… where am I?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
“You’re in the medical wing of my estate in Westchester,” Dominic replied, his dark eyes never leaving my face. “The surgeons cleared you to leave St. Catherine’s twelve hours ago, but you needed a secure, controlled environment to heal.”
Panic spiked through my chest, setting my heart monitor beeping at a faster tempo. I tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea and agonizing pain forced me back down against the mattress.
“My job… I have to get back to my apartment… my mother needs her medication paid—”
“Your mother’s medical bills are fully paid in full,” Dominic interrupted calmly, cutting off my frantic spiral. “Every single dollar of her treatment at the Cleveland clinic has been settled for the next five years. You don't ever have to worry about money again.”
I stared at him, my mind struggling to process his words. “What? How? I’m just a waitress—I work for tips—”
I stopped mid-sentence as my eyes drifted down to my right hand resting limply over the silk duvet.
Catching the light of the morning sun streaming through the French doors was a heavy, intricate gold band resting securely on my ring finger. Embedded within the polished gold was an antique diamond that gleamed with terrifying permanence.
My breath hitched. I pulled my hand back as if I had touched a hot stove.
“What is that?” I demanded, my voice rising in panic. “Why is there a ring on my finger?!”
Dominic stood up slowly from the leather chair, walking over to the edge of the bed. His expression was completely unreadable—a mask of cold, calculated dominance mixed with a strange, possessive intensity.
“While you were unconscious on the operating table with seven bullets inside your body,” Dominic said quietly, his voice echoing in the spacious room, “a priest administered last rites, and I slipped that ring onto your finger.”
I stared at him in horror, my chest heaving. “Are you out of your mind?! I didn't agree to marry you! I don't even know you!”
“You took an assassin’s bullet meant for my mother,” Dominic countered, taking a step closer, towering over the bed. “In my world, that makes you a Rossi. Legally, spiritually, and permanently. You are my wife now, Elena.”
The room seemed to spin off its axis. I shook my head, tears of frustration and terror spilling over my lashes. “This is insane! This is kidnapping! You can’t just force someone to marry you because—”
“Because I chose you,” Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling command that made the hair on the back of my arms stand up. “And anyone who comes for you comes through me. Victor Costa is already dead, Elena. His entire crew was dismantled yesterday morning. You are safe here.”
Safe.
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That was the word he used. But as I looked up into the dark, bottomless eyes of the most feared crime boss in New York, I realized with absolute, bone-chilling terror that the most dangerous place on earth wasn't out on the streets dodging bullets.
It was right here, locked inside a golden cage with a man who had married me while I was bleeding on a surgical table—and who was hiding a dark, systemic secret about why he had targeted me long before the first shot was ever fired.
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