The Billionaire's Doll Walks Away Forever

Elek rolled off her body. The heavy mattress shifted under his weight as he turned his back to her. His breathing was already slow and steady. He pulled the thick duvet over his shoulder, treating the last twenty minutes of physical exertion as nothing more than a routine task checked off his schedule. Dayami stared at the ceiling. The massive crystal chandelier hung directly above the bed, catching the faint light from the city outside. She felt exactly like that chandelier. An expensive, cold decoration purchased to fill an empty space in this penthouse. Her chest rose and fell, but she felt no urge to cry. Her tear ducts were completely dry. There was no humiliation left in her stomach, only a deep, bone-chilling exhaustion that settled into her joints. She sat up. The cold air of the bedroom hit her bare skin, raising goosebumps along her arms. She moved slowly, her limbs feeling heavy and disconnected from her brain. She reached the floor and picked up her silk robe. She slid her arms into the sleeves, tying the belt tightly around her waist in a mechanical motion. "Stay in bed." Elek's voice was low and raspy, thick with sleep. He did not turn around to look at her. It was a command, not a request. Dayami ignored him. She walked away from the bed, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. She stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sleepless skyline of New York City stretched out below her, a sea of lights that offered no warmth. Her reflection stared back at her from the thick glass. Her face was pale. Her eyes looked hollow. She did not recognize the woman in the window. She took a slow breath, filling her lungs with the conditioned air. "Elek, I want a divorce." Her voice was incredibly calm. The words left her mouth without a single tremor. The steady sound of Elek's breathing stopped. The mattress shifted violently. He sat up, the duvet falling to his waist. His broad chest and shoulders blocked out the light from the bedside lamp. His physical presence filled the room, heavy and suffocating. He let out a short, harsh sound from the back of his throat. A scoff. "Don't be ridiculous, Dayami." He rubbed the back of his neck, his tone dripping with impatience. "What is it this time? A new car? A charity gala you want to chair? Just tell my assistant tomorrow." Dayami did not turn around. She kept her eyes on her own pale reflection. "I am serious. I want out." The silence in the room became thick. She heard the rustle of the sheets. Heavy footsteps crossed the floor. Before she could brace herself, a large hand clamped down on her upper arm. Elek spun her around. His grip was like a steel vise, his fingers digging into her skin through the thin silk of her robe. "We have a contract." His voice was a low rumble in his chest, entirely devoid of warmth. "You seem to forget your place." Dayami finally looked up at him. She stared directly into his dark eyes. There was no anger in her gaze. There was no affection. There was only a vast, empty desert. "Your contract did not specify I had to be your living doll." The muscle in Elek's jaw ticked. Her empty expression seemed to hit a nerve. His grip tightened, and he shoved her backward. Her shoulder blades hit the cold glass of the window with a hard thud. He leaned in close, his face inches from hers. "Do not test my patience. Go to sleep." He released her arm abruptly. He turned on his heel and walked straight to the master bathroom. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him. The sound echoed off the high ceiling. Dayami's knees gave out. She slid down the cold glass until she hit the floor. Her hands shook slightly as the adrenaline left her bloodstream. She pulled her knees to her chest. A small, dry laugh escaped her lips. This marriage was a joke. The sound of running water came from the bathroom. He was taking a shower. He would not come back out to check on her. She pushed herself off the floor. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her silk robe. She walked to the bedroom door, turned the handle, and stepped out into the hallway. Mrs. Martha Higgins stood at the end of the hall. The head housekeeper wore her pristine uniform, her hands clasped in front of her. Her eyes slid over Dayami with complete indifference. Mrs. Higgins only answered to Elek. To her, Dayami was just another piece of furniture. Dayami walked past her without a word. She headed straight for the spiral staircase. She needed to go to the art room on the first floor. It was a small space near the back of the apartment, the only room in this massive penthouse that actually belonged to her. As she placed her foot on the first step, a sharp ringing sound came from the bedroom she had just left. It was Elek's private cell phone. He did not answer it. The water kept running. Dayami paused for a fraction of a second. Another call from that woman, perhaps. The thought crossed her mind, but her chest remained completely flat. She did not care anymore. She continued down the stairs. She walked into the empty, dark living room. The shadows swallowed her, but her mind was clearer than it had ever been. She was going to leave him.