The door opened with a soft click.
Lia looked up sharply, her breath catching.
He stepped inside.
The man from the auction. The one who hadn't spoken. Hadn't laughed. Hadn't flinched when people were killed right in front of him. His robe was dark. Crisp. The fabric shimmered faintly beneath the chandelier light. Gold embroidery lined the cuffs. His boots clicked softly against the polished floor.
"Greetings Master" the maid's voice trembled as she greeted him.
As soon as his eyes met Lia's, he paused, blinking, surprised. He probably didn't expect her to be awake. Lia gulped, her heart pounding in her chest. His presence alone made her feel unsafe. Or maybe it was what the maid had said earlier that gripped her like a warning.
His gaze never left her as he spoke to the maid, whose hands were visibly shaking.
"Leave us" he ordered.
His voice was calm but carried authority.
The maid curtsied and rushed out of the room as if staying any longer would kill her.
The door shut behind him. The soft click of the lock made Lia flinch. And the silence that followed was louder than a scream.
Lia sat frozen on the bed, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, heart slamming against her chest. He looked different in this light. Younger. Sharper. His features sculpted like they were drawn with precision. Cheekbones, jawline, the cruel line of his mouth. But his eyes… they were the same.
Cold. Calculating.
Not a hint of warmth.
He studied her from across the room, his eyes moving slowly from her face to the cloth around her ankle, then to the raw, red mark branded into her skin just below her collarbone.
She flinched under his gaze.
Still, he didn't speak.
He walked toward the table, poured himself a drink, slow, unbothered, like she wasn't sitting there watching him with every nerve in her body on fire.
Then finally, he turned. And spoke.
"You woke up sooner than I expected."
Lia didn't respond. She hadn't even moved. Her body shook. She didn't know what to expect. Definitely not kindness. His intentions were still unknown. Did he buy her to clean his floors... or to take his bed?
He took a sip, then walked forward, calm and casual. Every step felt like a countdown.
"I assume you've been told the rules?"
She nodded slowly. Hands trembling. Heart pounding.
"Repeat them."
Her voice cracked. "Don't leave the room. Don't speak unless spoken to. Don't run. Don't disobey."
He watched her carefully.
"And if you do?"
She swallowed. "I'll be punished."
He nodded once. "Good."
A long silence stretched between them. Her chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm.
Then he asked again "Where are you from?"
"Australia" she answered quickly.
"That place doesn't exist."
Her eyes widened. "Yes, it does. I swear it does." Her voice cracked in panic.
He took a sip and lowered the glass.
"Do not lie to me. Lies waste my time. And people who waste my time… disappear."
Her stomach twisted. Her hands trembled. Fear crawled up her spine.
He set the glass down and walked slowly back to her.
"Did someone send you?"
She shook her head. "No—no one. Our ship… it crashed. We just woke up here. Please, you have to believe me." Her voice was a desperate whisper.
He didn't respond.
They had said this exact thing, but no one believed them. Somehow she wished he could.
The tension in the room was unbearable. Her body already ached, but now it hurt in a new way. From fear, from confusion, from feeling like she was being peeled open, one layer at a time.
"Do you know what you are now?" He spoke again.
Lia blinked. Her throat tightened. She couldn't answer.
He took a step forward. His eyes cold, unreadable.
"Speak."
She swallowed hard. "A prisoner." Her voice trembled.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, like he found her answer... amusing.
"Wrong."
She tried again. "A slave?"
He walked to her side of the bed, his shadow fell over her now. She could smell him.
She held her breath as he crouched down in front of her, level with her face. His face was close now. Too close. She could see the lines near his eyes, the perfect trim of his beard.
"Not just a slave." He said quietly.
His eyes dragged down her body slowly, deliberately. His voice dropped low, laced with interest.
"You're mine. To own. To use. However I please."
His voice didn't rise. It didn't have to. It was the kind of voice that didn't need to shout to control a room.
Lia's breath caught. Her stomach turned. She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn't come. She blinked fast, willing the tears back.
"Why me?" she asked, her voice trembling. "You could've picked anyone."
He paused. Didn't answer. Didn't blink.
He just studied her. His eyes still dragging down her body.
The silence grew sharp, and for a terrifying second, she thought he might not explain at all. Then:
"I didn't pick you" he said simply. "You were the last thing left on a dying floor. Unwanted. Injured. Useless"
Her stomach twisted.
She looked away, shame crawling up her throat.
"I was curious what you'd do... if spared."
She looked back up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. Her heart crashed against her ribs.
His stare was colder up close. More real. More terrifying.
Her voice came out barely above a breath. "Are you going to hurt me?"
His lips twitched. He didn't answer at first.
Then he said "Only if you give me a reason."
She held his stare. It was the first time she saw it. The flicker. Barely there.
It was not kindness. It was something else. Like he was measuring her, trying to decide if she was worth breaking.
"Only if you disobey."
She flinched. Her heart thundered against her chest.
He pulled back. Just a little.
Then, quietly, he said "Stand."
She looked at him. Then the floor. Then her bandaged ankle. Then back at him.
Her legs were weak. Her ankle still burned. Lia tried to slide off the bed, but her body was shaking.
"I… I can't" she whispered. "My ankle..."
"I said stand."
She trembled. Her leg ached, still swollen. But she pushed herself up anyway, stumbling slightly as her foot touched the floor. Her knee buckled. He didn't help her. He watched her with curiosity.
She caught the bedpost and used it to pull herself up, biting back the pain.
Tears stung her eyes.
He stepped closer again. Her whole body flinched.
His hand moved but he didn't touch her.
Instead, he lifted the edge of her sleeve and studied the bruises that still painted her arms.
Then he looked her in the eye.
"Pain teaches obedience" he said. "But not everyone learns the same way."
He slowly let her arm fall.
Then turned. Started walking out.
Lia felt her knees trembling beneath her.
He stopped at the door, his hand on the handle.
Then, without looking back, he said, "This is your new home now. I will feed you, clothe you, keep you alive."
A breath passed.
"But try to escape, and I won't chase you."
He looked over his shoulder.
"I'll just make sure no one finds what's left of you."
The door creaked open and he was gone.
Lia sank back onto the bed, her whole body shaking.
Not just from fear, but from the terrifying truth she couldn't deny.
She was no longer free.
And the man who owned her... hadn't even started yet.