I can't believe this is happening.
My thoughts were spinning, spiraling between whether I should scream louder or try to think my way out of this mess.
But the words caught on the duct tape smothering my lips, coming out in muffled, furious grunts. I glared at Rohan—traitor—and the other bodyguards, shouting through the gag even though I knew they couldn't understand me.
Idiots! How much did he pay you?! When did you betray me—before I came back or the moment I stepped foot in Manila again?
I had only been back for a few weeks—just long enough to deal with my father's mess. These men were already here when I returned. So how the hell did this happen?
And the house staff... Was Belle in on this too? Probably. Because if she weren't, she'd be tied up right next to me, wouldn't she?
How dare you touch me!
Whatever Kael offered them—double? Triple?—I could pay more. So much more. But why would I waste a cent on trash like them? I reward loyalty, not betrayal.
Just wait. Wait until I get out of here. I'll sue every last one of them. I'll make sure they rot in the lowest, filthiest cell imaginable.
Rohan pushed me gently toward a crimson-painted room—the one they always stuck me in. I'd only been here a few times before, but it was always this room. This bed. These cold walls.
I refused to move. My feet rooted themselves at the threshold.
"Ma'am, please," Rohan said softly, almost with pity.
Pity? Does he think I care for his gentle tone? For Edward's half-hearted gesture toward the door? They're still betraying me!
Then someone shoved me. One of the guards, maybe two. I fell forward, collapsing to the floor with a sharp cry muffled by the tape.
"Agh!" I tried to scream.
Pain exploded through my ankle—the stiletto snapped and twisted beneath me. I clenched my eyes shut, my face pressed against the cold, hard floor.
Rope dug into the reddened skin around my ankles. I wanted to reach down and rub the sting away, but I couldn't. My hands were bound tightly behind my back.
I heard them—whispers, low curses. Edward's voice stood out, snapping at someone, assigning blame. A scuffle of guilt and regret filled the room like smoke.
Sweat rolled down my brow as I tried to swallow the pain.
And then... silence.
I felt it before I heard it.
Kael.
His presence always arrived first, like a shift in the air before a storm. His voice drifted in from just outside the door, cool and dangerous.
"What happened here?"
None of the bodyguards spoke.
They stood stiffly by the doorway, splitting to either side as Kael strode in. The moment his gaze fell on me, sprawled gracelessly on the floor, a hot wave of humiliation burned through my chest.
How did it come to this? How could I be in this position—beneath him, literally and figuratively—when not long ago...
He looked impossibly composed, despite everything. His coat was gone, revealing a crisp white dress shirt with sleeves rolled to the elbows, exposing strong forearms veined with tension. His black slacks and polished shoes remained impeccable. He knelt in front of me slowly, deliberately, the way a predator might crouch before a wounded creature.
And those eyes.
Sharp, hooded, and mercilessly dark—like obsidian polished to a gleam, showing nothing but daring you to try. The fire in them wasn't hidden now. He was furious. And I? I met that fury with my own. I didn't care that I was tied up and gagged, barely able to move. I would not cower before Kaelvorn.
His thick brows knitted together as he studied me. He looked... maddeningly perfect. Strong jaw, lashes like shadows, and a stillness about him that unnerved me more than any scream ever could.
I didn't realize how long I'd been staring until something rough touched my ankle. I flinched violently.
Kael's large hand withdrew.
He stood up, towering over me, his expression icy.
"Call Belle," he ordered curtly.
One of the guards scrambled off without question.
Kael turned his back and raked a hand through his hair, the gesture almost weary. I took the opportunity to scream again—curse him as viciously as I could through the tape on my mouth. He turned slightly, his face unreadable. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a harsh line, and a lock of his dark hair tumbled onto his brow as if even it had grown tired of holding back.
My voice cracked, cheeks burning from the effort. Still, not a flicker of guilt crossed his face.
Then Belle arrived.
"You called for me, sir?" she asked with quiet deference.
No confusion. No alarm. As if this was normal. As if seeing me gagged and bound on the floor was just part of the day's chores.
You're in on this too? My mind screamed. You snake! You spineless, backstabbing maid!
I thrashed as much as I could, making sure they all saw how disgusted I was.
"Remove her stilettos," Kael ordered coolly.
He leaned against the oak cabinet, folding his arms over his chest as if this were some boardroom drama, not a hostage scene. His eyes never left me—not once—as Belle approached.
I kicked and writhed, refusing to make it easy. Fine, take the damn shoes, but don't expect me to make it pleasant.
"Stop moving, Ma'am," Belle muttered as she knelt beside me.
I didn't.
Let them all see how furious I am.
Let them all feel just how far I'm willing to go.
"Stop moving, Ma'am," Belle murmured gently, but I refused. I kept thrashing like a cornered animal, even as she knelt beside me, her hands now heavier with frustration as she wrestled off my stilettos.
Eventually, she succeeded. I had no choice—my strength was spent, my limbs bound, my voice silenced by that damned tape. All I had left was defiance in my glare.
But my wild resistance had another consequence—my dress had ridden up, exposing the tops of my thighs. My cheeks burned with rage and humiliation. The red thong I wore peeked out brazenly, visible enough for anyone in the room to notice. I turned my searing gaze toward the guards, who stood by the door pretending not to see, their eyes pointedly fixed elsewhere.
I growled behind the tape. Perverts. Cowards. Liars.
"Fix her dress, Belle," Kaelvorn said in a low, commanding voice that made the air feel heavier.
Belle complied quickly, pulling the hem down to preserve what little dignity I had left. I was still breathing hard, my chest rising and falling as my fury burned hotter than exhaustion.
"All done, sir," Belle said, showing him the stilettos like some kind of trophy.
"Bring her a pair of slippers," Kael ordered.
And there he stood—stoic, infuriating, and still somehow maddeningly beautiful—like a villain in an expensive painting. I glared at him, pouring every ounce of hate I could muster into that stare. Let him feel it. Let it scorch him.
Just as I was about to explode again—another fit, another scream—a phone rang. My heart jumped. Mine?
I searched the room with my eyes, but it was Kael's hand that retrieved it. He took out a black version of my phone from his pocket and answered it without breaking his stare.
Then, slowly, he straightened, towering once more like a mountain I couldn't climb.
"I'm sorry, Ava. I'll make it up to you," he said in a low voice—soft, almost guilty—as he turned and walked out.
He gestured to the guards, and they left without a word. Belle followed, and the door closed with a quiet but final click.
"Help…" I tried to mumble against the tape, again and again, even knowing no one could hear me now.
Still, I screamed.
Until I couldn't anymore.
Though I could've forced myself to the bed or limped to the balcony window, I stayed curled on the cold floor, my strength spent, my rage simmering. There was no escape—not with a locked door, not with a fall several meters down into sand. Even if I survived the drop, what then? I didn't know how to sail a yacht. A chopper? Forget it. I only knew jet skis and half of that was muscle memory from weekend adventures.
I must have passed out from the mix of anger, fear, and fatigue. I awoke to the sound of knocking.
The door opened and Belle stepped in.
She gasped when she saw me still crumpled on the floor, untouched and unmoved. She placed a tray of food on the nearby table and rushed to help me up.
For a second, I allowed her.
But the moment I felt my strength return, I writhed again, fighting her grip with what little energy I had left.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am…" she whispered, not looking me in the eyes.
I still couldn't make sense of any of it. The betrayal, the silence, the way my world shifted beneath me like sand in a storm—I couldn't wrap my head around it. But somewhere between the ache in my muscles and the numbness in my chest, I realized something: ranting, screaming, cursing them into oblivion—it wouldn't fix this. It wouldn't give me answers. It would only drain me further, and leave me to rot in this godforsaken room with nothing but the sound of my own rage.
"You should eat something," Belle said softly.
Her fingers moved with tentative care as she peeled the duct tape off my lips. The sudden brush of air on my raw skin sent a shiver down my spine. I winced, lips stinging and cracked.
"How could you do this to me?" My voice was hoarse, but it carried the weight of my disbelief.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am," she murmured, eyes glued to the floor, unable to meet mine.
Sorry? What the hell was I supposed to do with her sorry?
"How much did he pay you, Belle? Was the salary better? If it was money, why didn't you just tell me? I could've tripled it."
She remained silent, like a ghost. Not even the wind shifted with more indifference than she did. She simply picked up the spoon and fork, scooped a portion of warm rice and stew, and held the spoon to my mouth like I was a child.
Was I supposed to just eat? From her hand? After everything?
I jerked my face away.
"Ma'am, you need to eat," she said gently.
"Then I'll starve. Maybe I want to die of hunger. Now get out! I don't need traitors babysitting me."
Her shoulders sagged a little, but she said nothing. She set the spoon down with a quiet clink and left without another word, closing the door behind her with an agonizing softness.
I glared at that door long after it shut, as if my stare alone could burn a hole through it.
I meant what I said.
But God, I was hungry.
The scent of Belle's cooking still hung in the air—rich, warm, savory—and now that I wasn't yelling, it was impossible to ignore. My stomach let out a hollow, angry growl. I pressed my forehead to my knees in frustration.
Dragging myself to the bed, I hobbled awkwardly, the ropes around my ankles loose enough to allow short, careful steps. I made it to the balcony and leaned against the railing. Beyond the cliff, the drop to the beach was steep—suicidal. Even thinking about it made the ghost of my friend Allana's cries echo in my head, her voice trembling during my quarenta dias. No. That wasn't an option.
I say I'd rather die—but I'm not that reckless. Or that broken. Not yet.
"Ugh!" I collapsed onto the mattress, clutching my stomach as it growled again. The clock above the door read nearly three in the afternoon.
Ava. That's his fiancée. The name circled in my head like a taunt.
What is he doing right now? Flying back to Manila? No… I didn't hear the chopper. Could he have taken the yacht?
I scrambled up and climbed back onto the bed, straining to look past the balcony railing. The yacht was still docked. So where was he?
Cancelling the engagement? Postponing it?
Or maybe, just maybe… doing something far more dangerous.
Pride doesn't feed the stomach.
That bitter truth echoed in my head as I slowly crawled—yes, crawled—toward the table like a defeated animal chasing the scent of survival. The food Belle left had gone cold, but the aroma still lingered—savory, spiced, comforting. Even the juice beside it glistened like a forbidden nectar. God, was I really this desperate? Hungry enough to admire juice?
With my hands still bound behind me, I leaned in awkwardly and tried to eat like some feral thing. I dipped my lips directly into the bowl, tasting the lukewarm soup, then reached for the rice with my mouth like a pathetic scavenger. It was humiliating. Impossible.
I gave up after two tries, nearly choking on a grain of rice. "This isn't going to work," I muttered through clenched teeth.
Then I screamed.
"Help!" My voice was rough and raw, but I screamed again. "Help! Someone, please!"
I was starving, my throat parched and stinging. My body was trembling with weakness. Was this how I'd die? Not by heartbreak, not by betrayal—but by hunger? How ironically tragic.
I stumbled to the door and banged it with my shoulder, my voice trembling. "Help! I need water, food—please!"
To my surprise, the door creaked open. Edward's face appeared in the gap, as casual as if I'd just rung the doorbell.
"Ma'am?" he asked like everything was perfectly normal.
My eyes narrowed, lips twitching with rage. Finally, with the tape gone, I could unleash what I had been holding back.
"You heartless bastard. How much did Kaelvorn pay you, huh?"
He scratched the back of his head sheepishly and began to pull the door closed again.
No! Shit—wrong move!
"Wait—wait! Please, Edward." I softened, desperation dripping from my voice. "I'm starving. I'm dying of thirst."
He paused, glancing down at me, my tangled hair and wild eyes, then looked around the hallway nervously.
I forced a smile. "Just… help me eat. Even just the water. Please?"
He hesitated, scratched his head again, clearly battling something internal.
And then, that familiar, cold baritone cut through the air like a blade.
"What's the problem now?"
I wanted to groan. No, of course he hadn't left for Manila. Why would I get that kind of luck?
Kael strode into the room wearing a plain white v-neck shirt and black shorts. Casual. Composed. Devastating. He looked maddeningly fresh—like he had just stepped out of a beach villa photo shoot while I looked like a feral creature dragged through dirt and betrayal.
I couldn't stop myself from staring. His chest, the way the shirt clung to it like it had no shame. The subtle dip of muscle under the fabric. His broad shoulders moved with effortless power, and I hated that he could look so damned calm while I was falling apart.
"I—I just…" I fumbled for dignity, found none. "I just wanted something to eat. Something to drink."
His eyes narrowed like sharp glass. I offered a sheepish smile, testing the limits of whatever thread we were still clinging to.
"I'm really hungry, Kael," I said softly. "If I don't eat, I'll die in here. I was only asking Edward to help me. That's all. I know you're busy, but…"
I trailed off, watching him, hoping that somewhere beneath that stone exterior was still the man who once held me like I mattered.
Ha! I had a new strategy.
Kael tilted his head, ever so slightly, eyes never leaving mine, and then—
"Call Belle," he told Edward without blinking.
The tiny hope blooming in my chest wilted immediately. Why does it always have to be Belle?
"I'm really, really starving now," I said, trying to smile through the disappointment, though it came out more like a pout.
Edward left to fetch her. I sulked.
"It won't take long. I'll just eat a little, maybe sip something. I'm so thirsty, Kael," I added sweetly, trying to lure him with softness instead of fire this time.
He exhaled sharply just as Belle walked into the room.
And just like that, all the hope drained from me. Of course she'd be delighted to hear me beg for food. Her bright eyes were practically glowing with misplaced sympathy.
"I'll feed you, Vyn," she chirped, as if we were playing house instead of acting out this grotesque farce.
I shot Kael a look—something between a plea and a curse—but he turned away from me, murmured something to Edward, and closed the door behind him.
Just like that, I was alone with Belle.
Damn it. I gave up.
I let her feed me.
The food barely touched my tongue before the anger boiled up again—hot, sharp, and suffocating. I wanted to throw something, scream, burn this entire room to the ground. Instead, I looked at her, trying to mask rage with civility.
"Belle, please... untie me."
She didn't react.
"Belle, please. Have mercy on me, will you? My dad's in jail. I need to fix everything. The company is falling apart. If it goes down, so many people lose their jobs. So many families lose their homes... their futures..."
Still nothing. Not a flinch. Not even a flicker of hesitation.
She brought another spoonful of rice to my lips—and that's when I snapped. I jerked my head to the side and bit her wrist—not hard, just enough to send a message: I'm not your pet. I'm not your puppet. I am angry and I will not go down quietly.
"Ahh! Help!" she screamed, reeling back.
The door flew open.
Bodyguards stormed in.
And Kael—Kael appeared with a look of thunderclouds in his eyes. He looked torn. Good.
They pulled Belle away from me like I was a rabid animal.
I glared at Kael, breathing hard, cheeks flushed with fury and humiliation.
"I didn't even bite her that hard!" I screamed. My voice cracked, a tear slipping down without my permission. "I'm just so angry! Angry at all of you! You betrayed me. You betrayed my father. My family! We trusted you—we loved you—and now you do this to us? For what? For money?"
My voice shook as I looked at the faces I once knew, now strangers. Hollow-eyed, unreachable.
"How dare you," I whispered. "How dare you."
I still couldn't wrap my head around it. These people—these traitors—had served my family for years. They knew us intimately, celebrated our victories, mourned our losses. And yet... for money, they turned their backs. And now, here I was—trapped, degraded, and betrayed.
It wasn't like I actually planned to kill Kaelvorn. But damn it... I wanted to make him feel something—pain, regret, anything.
Kaelvorn barked out orders, quick and sharp, his voice like a gavel in a courtroom I hadn't consented to attend. The guards filed out, but this time, the security outside my door thickened like fog.
Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, surrendering to a sky strewn with stars. I rested my head against the cold crystal window, my breath fogging the glass, my mind lost in a whirlwind of questions.
What is he playing at? Is this all just punishment? A twisted game? He gains nothing by keeping me here—unless... Is this about ransom? Ivan? Maybe he plans to bleed Ivan dry to completely overtake the industry. As if his company hadn't already swallowed half the market.
My thoughts shattered when the door creaked open.
If it's Belle again bringing dinner, I swear, hell will rain down.
The overhead light flared on and I winced, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden brightness. When I managed to open them, it wasn't Belle.
It was Kael.
He entered calmly, a tray in his hands, and set it down on the table before pulling out the chair and sitting like he belonged there.
I stared at him warily, exhausted and bruised inside and out. I probably looked like hell. He, on the other hand, looked unfairly clean, annoyingly fresh.
"Why not just send a guard in with the food if Belle's not up for it?" I asked, folding my arms, my voice dripping with resentment.
His lips curled into a smirk that was far too smug for the situation. Somehow, I hated that he looked good with it.
"You still think you're in control, huh?" he teased, raising a brow.
I fell silent, my glare sharpening. The smirk faded, replaced with something colder. More serious.
"What do you want from me, Kael? What's your motive?" I narrowed my eyes, demanding answers that refused to come.
He studied me for a beat, then exhaled through his nose like I was wasting his time.
"Weren't you the one who kidnapped me, remember?"
"You—" I choked out a dry laugh. "If I planned this, we wouldn't be in this disaster of a mess."
I stood, every muscle in my body tensed as I took a step closer. My chest heaved with frustration. I wanted to scream, to strike him. But he remained still, untouched by my rage.
He laughed, low and amused, licking his bottom lip like I'd just told a joke. The sight made my blood boil. Smug bastard.
If I had any chance of overpowering him, I'd scratch his perfect face until he learned what pain really felt like. But even without touching him, I already knew—his body was carved from power and control. My attempts would end with me broken.
"Maybe think hard about the choices you've made, Miss Draventhall. Is this really the outcome you wanted?"
"That's not the point!" I snapped, my voice raising. "My point is—"
I stopped.
He stood abruptly, and my words turned to stone in my throat. Something dangerous shimmered behind his eyes—something volatile. His fists clenched at his sides.
I took a step back. Instinct.
"Forget it. Men like you never care about what anyone else thinks. You're already convinced you're the best, that your word is law. You don't listen, you don't care. Why are you even here? I don't need your help. Not from you."
"I'm not here to feed you."
Before I could respond, he moved.
In one swift motion, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward him. My heart thundered violently in my chest. And then—I saw it.
A blade.
I panicked, tried to twist away, but he yanked me closer until I was pressed against him. My hand landed against his thigh, my elbow brushing his chest. I could feel his breath stir my hair.
My gaze dropped to his hand—the one holding my wrist. Veins stood out beneath the skin, strained and trembling.
"Let me go! Let go of me! Help!" I shouted, my voice cracking from the raw force of it.
Then—snap.
He cut the rope binding my wrists.
Just like that, he released me.
"Feed yourself," he said, cold as ice, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.
And for the first time, I wasn't sure whether I wanted to cry… or chase him.