After Ryan Carter finished speaking, he snatched my phone and strode out, locking the bedroom door behind him.

I heard him pause outside the door. My mind was still reeling, unable to process what had just happened.

When it finally hit me that Ryan was serious, I rushed to the door, banging and shouting, "Ryan Carter, let me out! This is illegal imprisonment, do you know that?"

Ryan chuckled instead of getting angry.

"I'm aware that locking you up is illegal, Victoria, my dear Victoria, but we've been together for so long. Would you really call the cops? Don't forget, I'm your only family."

My hand froze mid-knock. He was right. I couldn't bring myself to do it.

We'd been together for years, and I'd watched Ryan climb step by step. From earning ten dollars an hour at a college job to making two thousand a month as an intern, and now finally living a decent life.

He had a bright future ahead. If I reported him and he got a record, it would all be over for him.

Realizing this, I softened my tone, "Ryan, don't do this. Let me out, and we can talk. I have a photography session scheduled later."

To save up for our wedding, I worked as a freelance photographer in my spare time. Over time, I had gained some recognition.

Ryan coldly refused, "Let you out to photograph other men? Baby, stop doing things I don't like. Be good, okay? I'll bring dinner back for you."

With that, his footsteps gradually faded away.

I slumped against the door, feeling hollow inside.