(the kitten forgets she was ever tamed.)
The moment Mirabel's car disappeared down the long drive, Janelle exhaled.
She hadn't realized how tightly she'd been holding her breath.
The mansion felt too quiet. Too cold. Too free.
And freedom was dangerous.
Mirabel had kissed her goodbye with lips that lingered too long. She'd whispered threats masked as affection.
"Stay good while I'm gone, baby. Or I'll show you what real punishment feels like."
Janelle had smiled sweetly. Nodded like a good girl. But her eyes?
Her eyes had flicked toward the one person Mirabel forgot to consider Mirabel's assistant.
Naya.
Beautiful. Soft-spoken. Always watching.
The moment Mirabel's shadow left the house, Naya entered Janelle's space like she belonged there.
"You look lonely," Naya said, placing a glass of water by her side. Her eyes dipped to Janelle's neck, where faint marks bloomed like ink. "Rough night?"
Janelle didn't answer. She just pulled her silk robe tighter and looked away.
But Naya stepped closer.
"You don't have to lie," she whispered. "I see the way you flinch when she touches you too hard. I see the sadness behind the love. You're not just a toy to me."
Janelle's throat tightened.
"No one asked you to care."
"I know," Naya replied softly. "But I do. And if you ever want to talk... or just feel safe for a moment... I'm here."
And then... she left.
But not before her fingers brushed Janelle's wrist. Not before her perfume lingered in the air
warm vanilla and danger.
Janelle sat there, heart racing.
She hated how the kindness made her feel.
She hated how she wanted to feel it again.
And far away, in a luxury hotel suite, Mirabel's phone buzzed with a message she ignored.
If only she had read it:
"She's smiling at someone else now."
---
To be continued