At the police station, Ana sat alone in one of the interrogation rooms, waiting for a detective to come in with her parents.
She appeared calm, perfectly composed, breathing in slow, measured rhythms and moving with a sensual grace that stirred dangerous thoughts in anyone who looked at her. Her beauty didn't just attract attention—it provoked an almost primal desire to possess her.
The officer assigned to watch her felt his control slipping with every passing second. The young prisoner radiated such intense sensuality that it eroded his professional mask. In his mind, he violated her countless times—tortured her, used her, and imagined her submitting under his lustful dominance. She was exquisite, and Ana knew exactly the kind of chaos she could create in men and women alike.
With deliberate intention, she began to unleash those charms on the officer, who now sat sweating under her gaze. She offered him a slow, knowing smile, tucking her golden hair behind her ear in an almost theatrical gesture, her chest rising with a deep, steady breath.
Their eyes locked. The air between them thickened then the door swung open. Her parents walked in, followed by a detective. The officer left, more aroused than ever, unable to mask it. Nick took the seat to her right, Sara sat to her left, and the detective positioned himself directly across from Ana. The golden-haired young woman regarded him with pure indifference.
The questions began. She answered none. Fifteen long minutes passed, the only sound in the room the ticking of the clock on the wall. Her silence, her unshaken confidence—or at least the façade of it—began to grate on the detective.
— Damn it, Ana Archer! Answer me already!— he barked, slamming his hand on the table.
The blow didn't intimidate her it made her smile.
— Stop playing games, you promiscuous little brat… whore.
— Careful, Detective,— Nick interjected smoothly. —As her attorney, I'm warning youit's not a good idea to threaten or insult my client.
— Then tell your client to cooperate, or this will go badly for her, — the detective shot back.
Ana leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping into a silky near-whisper.
— Detective, you should stop meddling in matters that don't concern you. You could end up angering some very dangerous people. And we both know that wouldn't be good for you.
— Is that a threat?
— No, — she said, her lips curving faintly. — Just a warning. They won't like it if you keep digging.
— Who? Who are you talking about? The ones who kidnapped you?
— I don't know who kidnapped me. I never saw them.
— That's a lie. Talk, or we'll charge you as Adam's accomplice.
— I told you I couldn't see. They kept me blindfolded.
The detective's irritation grew and so did his own unwilling attraction to her. That only made his temper worse.
— Fine. If that's the way you want it, you'll go from victim to accomplice in our files.
Nick shifted gears, his voice turning sharp with professional authority.
—My client is innocent. She wasn't with Adam for four years by choice it was against her will.
—I need proof of that, counselor — the detective challenged.
Sara stepped in then, her tone like steel.
— Detective, you don't have enough evidence to accuse our daughter, do you?
— No. Not yet. But I will.
— Then I suggest you focus your investigation on Adam — Sara said coldly —He's the guilty one, not Ana.
Nick closed the discussion.
— Since there's nothing concrete against my client, we're done here.
The three of them left. Ana didn't speak for the entire drive home. Even when they arrived at the mansion, she stayed silent until Anthony appeared and threw his arms around her.
— You're not dirty, sister. None of this was your fault. I'll help you. You'll see.
For the first time, Ana hugged back, without fear or disgust. After all, Anthony was her twin. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent—it had been far too long since she'd been this close to him.
— Anthony… help me, brother…
— We're all here to help you, Ana.
— No. Not our parents. They'll never understand… they're perfect, and I'm… dirty.
Before Anthony could respond, the joyful cries of little Ismael echoed through the house. The boy ran straight into Ana's arms, grinning from ear to ear. She embraced him tenderly.
Her brothers would never hurt him. But she couldn't trust anyone—not really. And she could never betray Adam. His words still haunted her: Keep your mouth shut.
Sara led Nick away, leaving the siblings alone. She had her own plan—make Ana relax, lower her guard… and then get her to talk.
Ana's brothers guided her to the art room, a quiet, private space.
— Ana, everything will be fine,— Anthony said softly. — Just trust us again.
— In you and Ismael, always. But never in our parents.
— That's not true — Anthony whispered.
He held her close while Ismael sat at the small table, sketching with his colored pencils.
— Breathe, Ana — Anthony murmured —You're safe here.
And for a fleeting moment, with her brothers beside her, the golden maiden could almost believe it.