Possessed By The Mogul's Dark Will

Allyson Mccray POV: Jackson' s smug expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Surprise flickered in his dark eyes before being quickly masked. He had been prepared for a tempest, for screams and tears, for the chaotic drama he seemed to both instigate and despise. He had not been prepared for this. For my compliance. "As long as you're happy, darling," I repeated, my voice a soft, melodic purr that held no warmth. I walked toward them, my gaze sweeping over Kaila's feigned innocence. "Anything that brings you joy, brings me joy. After all, your love is all I have." I made sure to emphasize the word 'love,' letting it hang in the air, a poisoned dart aimed at his conscience, if he even had one. The unease in his eyes vanished, replaced by a familiar, arrogant satisfaction. Of course. My "docility" was simply proof of his absolute power over me. He believed he had finally broken me completely. Good. That was exactly what I wanted him to believe. "I'm glad you understand, Allyson," he said, pulling Kaila closer. "Show Kaila to the west wing suite. She'll be staying there. Make sure she has everything she needs." It was a command, not a request. Kaila looked up at me from under her lashes, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Walters. You're so kind." I simply nodded, my face a perfect mask of a gracious, if vanquished, hostess. "It's my pleasure, Kaila." The three of us had dinner together that night. It was an excruciating performance. Jackson and Kaila sat side-by-side, feeding each other bites of food, whispering and laughing as if I were nothing more than a piece of expensive furniture. I sat opposite them, mechanically lifting my fork to my mouth, the taste of the gourmet food turning to ash on my tongue. Every flirtatious giggle from Kaila, every possessive touch from Jackson, was a turn of the screw in the coffin of my past life. But I did not cry. My tears had been offered up as a sacrifice on the altar of my parents' murder. There were none left. "I've worked out a schedule," Jackson announced nonchalantly as the servants cleared the plates. "Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I'll be with you, Allyson. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays will be for Kaila. Sundays we can all spend together, as a family." He looked at me, a challenge in his eyes. "That sounds perfectly reasonable, Jackson," I replied, my voice even. The silence that followed my quiet agreement was more profound than any shouting match. The storm he expected had not come. In its place was a calm so absolute it was unnerving, even to him. This wasn't the Allyson he knew how to control. But his ego, vast and unshakable, quickly supplied an explanation: he had finally, utterly tamed me. That night, the massive villa was silent. In my first life, this would have been a night of shattering glass and hysterical sobs. Tonight, there was only the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the steady beat of my own cold heart. The well of my grief was too deep for tears now. My only focus was the date on the calendar, ticking down to the day of my escape. A week later, Jackson threw a lavish party to officially introduce Kaila to his world. He did it with the same shameless arrogance he did everything else, announcing to the city's elite that he, Jackson Walters, was a man who would not be constrained by convention. He would have two women. His wife, Allyson, and his new love, Kaila. The ballroom buzzed with whispers. I could feel the eyes on me-pitying, scornful, mocking. I felt nothing. Their opinions were the buzzing of flies in a world that no longer concerned me. My real life was happening in secret, in encrypted emails with my lawyer, in the transfer of untraceable funds, in the creation of three new identities: Sarah, Robert, and Emily Peterson. Soon, Allyson Mccray Walters and her parents would cease to exist. The climax of the party came when Jackson, in a grand gesture, gifted Kaila not only a significant portion of his company's shares but also a family heirloom: a breathtaking emerald and diamond necklace that had been in the Walters family for generations. The "Heart of the Ocean," he called it. I watched as he fastened it around Kaila's slender neck. I remembered when he had placed that same necklace on me, on our wedding day. His voice had been a low, sincere whisper in my ear. "This belongs only to the true queen of my heart, Allyson. Forever." Forever had lasted five years. A sharp, familiar pain lanced through my chest, a phantom limb of a love long amputated. I pressed a hand to my heart, breathing through the spasm. It was just a memory. It meant nothing. I forced my gaze away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain. Kaila, basking in the glow of envy and admiration, turned to me, her eyes glittering with triumph. "Allyson, you haven't given me a welcome gift yet." "My apologies," I said, my voice flat. "I'll have something for you next time." Her eyes scanned my body, landing on the simple platinum chain around my neck. It was a delicate, almost invisible thing, with a small, worn locket. "I don't want to wait. That's pretty. I like that." I instinctively covered the locket with my hand. "No. Not this one." This was my grandmother's. It was the only piece of jewelry I owned that wasn't from Jackson. It was the only thing that felt truly mine. Kaila pouted, her lower lip trembling. "Oh, don't be so stingy, Allyson. It's just a little necklace." Jackson strode over, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "What's going on?" Kaila immediately turned on the waterworks, her eyes welling up. "Jackson, I just asked Allyson for her necklace as a gift, and she refused. I didn't know she was so attached to it." "It's just a necklace, Allyson," Jackson said, his tone dismissive and impatient. "Kaila likes it. Give it to her." "No," I repeated, my voice low but firm. His eyes narrowed dangerously. In one swift, brutal motion, he reached out, his fingers hooking under the thin chain. He ripped it from my neck. The delicate links dug into my skin, leaving a raw, red line. He didn't even look at me. He simply turned and pressed the locket into Kaila's waiting palm. "Here you go, sweetheart." Kaila's face lit up with a vicious, triumphant glee. "Thank you, Jackson! You're the best!" She gave me a final, smug look before skipping away, disappearing up the grand staircase. I stood frozen, my hand at my throat where the necklace used to be. The raw skin stung, but the wound inside was deeper. He had taken the last piece of my old life, the last tangible connection to who I was before him, and had given it away as a trifle. The humiliation was a physical thing, a hot wave that washed over me. But beneath it, a cold, hard rage began to smolder. I had to get it back. I endured the rest of the party with a frozen smile, my mind racing. I would not let her keep it. I would not let her defile my grandmother's memory. After the last guest had departed, I went upstairs. I found Kaila's room, the door slightly ajar. I pushed it open, prepared to offer her anything-jewelry, cash, anything of Jackson's she wanted-in exchange for what was mine. But what I saw made my blood run cold and then boil over. The sight stopped me dead in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. My blood didn't just run cold, it turned to ice. It was a violation so profound, so personal, it transcended all the other cruelties. Kaila was sitting on the floor, cross-legged, cooing at the little poodle Jackson had bought her. And around the dog's fluffy neck, glinting under the soft light of the lamp, was my grandmother's locket.