Captive Princess (Sophia) novel Chapter 18

I remained silent, but my heart began to pound a frantic, painful rhythm against my ribs.

“I went to Europe to recover, and Vincent promised he would marry me as soon as I returned,” Isabella leaned closer, her voice turning venomous. “We never stopped talking. So I told him all about how my poor mother had married into the Romano family, but that the cruel Romano heiress was treating her horribly, and how it was breaking my heart.”

“Vincent said he would get revenge for my mother. That’s why he came to your father and offered to discipline you himself.” Isabella’s smile was radiant. “Did you think Uncle Romano forced him? You’re wrong, Sophia. Vincent asked for the job.”

I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. “What did you say?”

“Oh, and it gets better,” Isabella took out her phone. “Did you know that every single time you two were together, it was being recorded?”

“What?”

“Vincent installed hidden cameras in the bedroom. He recorded everything,” Isabella’s smile grew more twisted, more malicious. “He said he was going to give the videos to me, to use as leverage to control you later.”

My world started to spin.

“Are you shocked, Sophia?” Isabella stood up, triumphant. “Vincent never loved you. He was just completing a mission. Now the mission is over, and he’s going to marry me.”

She walked to the door, then looked back at me one last time.

“By the way, I’ve already made a copy of those videos. If you ever dare to cross me again, I’ll post them all online for the world to see.”

After Isabella left, I sat motionless on the bed for a long, long time.

Her words echoed in my mind, a torturous loop.

Vincent asked to discipline me.

To get revenge for Isabella.

He recorded every private moment we ever shared.

I suddenly threw off the sheets, ripped the IV from my arm, and bolted from the room.

Nurses shouted behind me, but I didn’t hear them.

I ran out of the hospital and hailed a cab.

My hand was shaking uncontrollably, but I clicked on it.

The screen filled with video files, all neatly organized by date.

From the very first night we were together to the very last, every single video was there.

I clicked on the first one.

The screen showed me and Vincent, tangled together in the sheets, every detail captured in crystal-clear high definition.

Including me, wrapped in his arms, whispering “I love you.” Including every moment of my vulnerability, my trust, my complete and utter devotion.

My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the floor.

It was all true. Isabella was telling the truth.

Vincent really had recorded everything.

I started to laugh at how stupid, how hopelessly naive I had been. I laughed and laughed until the laughter turned into ragged, broken sobs.