The first thing i noticed was the ceiling high, white, spotless. Not the peeling plaster of my apartment or the water-stained tiles of my childhood home. This was clean. Cold. Then the softness beneath me registered silk sheets, too smooth to feel real. My body felt heavy, like I had been dropped from the sky and stitched back together wrongand then it all came rushing back.
The contract.
Her father.
Dominic's voice.
The needle.
I bolted upright. "Where am I?" I gasped, my voice raw. Ithrew off the duvet, stumbling to her feet. The room was massive — too perfect, like a showroom. Velvet curtains, gold trim, walls too pale to feel warm. One door. No windows open.
"LET ME OUT!" I screamed, slamming her fists on the door. "You can't do this! I'm not property! Let me the hell out motherfvckers!" I pounded harder, each breath ragged, the walls closing in like they were watching her fall apart. A soft knock stopped me. I froze, backing away from the door as it creaked open. A young woman stepped in dressed in a pristine black uniform, eyes lowered, posture straight. She bowed slightly.
"Miss Hayes," the maid said softly. "Welcome." I stared at her in disbelief. "Welcome? Are you insane?"
The maid didn't flinch. "I've been instructed to help you freshen up. Dinner will be served in twenty minutes. Mr. Voss expects you downstairs." "I'm not going anywhere near him."
The maid's tone remained polite, but firm. "He doesn't repeat instructions, Miss." My chest rose and fell rapidly. "Is this a threat?" "No, ma'am," she said with a slight shake of her head. "It's a fact." Well tell him to go to hell. She turned toward the elegant en-suite bathroom and bowed again. "There are clothes in the dressing room. I'll return shortly to escort you."
I stood in front of the bathroom door, my arms crossed tight over my chest. Steam drifted from the marble shower, the scent of jasmine soap floating through the air. But i didn't move. Didn't take off my clothes. Didn't step inside. I won't give him the satisfaction he expected me to obey.
To clean herself up like a good little possession and come to dinner like nothing had happened. I wasn't ready to see him not like this, not when the ache of betrayal still throbbed in her chest like a wound.
So i sat on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around myself, Hunger came eventually sharp and gnawing but i ignored it. My eyes wet with exhaustion, i didn't want to cry but did. Soft, silent sobs that soaked into the silk sheet until i finally passed out.
**
He sat at the head of the table, his posture perfect, cutting into his food with the same clinical precision he used in business. The maid approached quietly, her hands folded.
"Sir," she said gently her voice trembling from fear. "Miss Hayes has not left her room. Shall I bring a tray to her?" Dominic didn't look up from his plate.
"No."
She lowered her gaze. "Forgive me, sir, but"
"She's testing limits," he interrupted, finally setting down his silverware. "She refused the shower, yes?"
"Yes, sir."
He leaned back in his chair, eyes cool, voice unshaken.
"Then she can go to bed hungry. When she's ready to behave like an obedient slave she'll be fed like one."