It had already been a week, and Larah was still locked inside the same room. She felt like a prisoner, unable to leave even for a moment. That morning, Ethan stood in his office, preparing to leave for the United States. One of his men had called earlier, reminding him of important business overseas.
"Don't let her leave the mansion, especially her room," Ethan ordered coldly as he adjusted his cufflinks. "Take good care of her while I'm away. I'll be back tomorrow night."
"Yes, sir," the maid bowed obediently.
Without another word, Ethan left the grand mansion.
From her window upstairs, Larah spotted him walking toward a sleek black car parked in the driveway. The engine roared, and just like that—he was gone. Her heart leapt with hope. This was her chance.
"If he's not here, maybe I can escape…" she whispered, pacing the room. She tugged at the locked door for nearly an hour, her hands sore, but none of the maids dared to help. Who would disobey Ethan? He wasn't just a man—he was a mafia leader, the head of a clan, and owner of a vast empire that struck fear in everyone around him.
Frustration boiled in Larah's chest. She walked back and forth, clutching her head.
"No… no, no. What should I do? I have a job. I need to work! I can't stay here like a prisoner," she muttered, her voice trembling.
Suddenly, the sound of tires crunching against gravel echoed outside. A car door slammed. She rushed to the window, curiosity burning through her fear.
A luxury car gleamed under the sun. From it stepped a tall woman in a flowing red dress. Her heels clicked confidently as she entered the mansion.
"Where's Ethan?" The woman's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Good morning, Lady Isabella," one of the maids greeted nervously. "Mr. Ethan has already left the mansion."
Isabella. Larah's heart sank at the name. Even without knowing her, she could sense trouble.
"What?! Where did he go?" Isabella demanded.
"He has traveled to the United States, my lady. He will return tomorrow night," the maid explained carefully.
Isabella clenched her jaw, fury flashing in her eyes. She was Ethan's ex-girlfriend, the daughter of another powerful mafia family.
Meanwhile, upstairs, Larah tried to pour herself some water, but her body betrayed her. She stumbled and fell off the bed.
"Ahhh! My thigh…" she winced in pain. The wound Ethan had treated before was healing, but the bruise remained, still sore and blue.
Her cry was louder than she expected. Loud enough for Isabella to hear.
"What was that? Who's upstairs?" Isabella demanded, narrowing her eyes.
The maid panicked. "It's nothing, my lady."
"Move," Isabella snapped, stepping toward the stairs.
"Lady Isabella, please—"
"Get out of my way, or I'll kill you," Isabella threatened coldly. She shoved the maid aside and marched upstairs.
At Larah's door, Isabella rattled the handle. Locked.
"Open this door!" she shouted.
From inside, Larah froze. She didn't know whose voice it was. "Me? I—I can't open it from the inside. Can you help me?"
Her naive reply only fueled Isabella's rage.
"Oh, really? So Ethan's hiding someone in here? He has a new toy now?" Isabella sneered.
"Lady Isabella, please don't—" another maid tried to calm her.
But Isabella was unstoppable. She pulled a sleek pistol from her handbag, aimed at the lock, and fired. The gunshot boomed through the mansion. The door swung open with a sharp crack.
Isabella's eyes widened in shock.
There stood Larah, trembling by the bed near the window, dressed in nothing but a simple white pajama dress.
"And who the fuck are you?" Isabella spat, her voice dripping venom.
Larah's knees trembled. She had never faced a gun in her life. Her lips quivered. "I… I don't know what's happening. Please, I don't even know this place…"
Isabella laughed cruelly, circling her like a predator.
"This is Ethan's secret mansion, you little bitch. Now tell me—who are you to him?"
Tears streamed down Larah's cheeks. She shook her head desperately.
Before Isabella could strike, a stern voice thundered from the hallway.
"Enough, Lady Isabella."
Marco, Ethan's most trusted right-hand man, stepped inside with two bodyguards at his side. His eyes narrowed.
"Leave. That's Ethan's order. Do not interfere with the woman he brought here."
Isabella spun toward him, fury blazing in her eyes. "Watch yourself, Marco. You think you can order me around? I'll deal with her myself."
"I said leave," Marco's tone darkened, his hand resting on his holster. "Don't test me."
The tension was suffocating. Finally, Isabella hissed, glaring daggers at Larah.
"Fine. But mark my words—you'll regret this."
Her heels clattered angrily as she stormed out of the mansion, slamming the door behind her.
The room fell silent, leaving Larah frozen with fear.
Marco turned to her, his expression unreadable. "Miss Larah, come with me."
Larah's voice trembled. "W-where are you taking me?"
"To Ethan's penthouse," Marco replied firmly. "No more questions. Do as I say, or I'll shoot you."
Her heart dropped, and her tears flowed again. She had no choice.
Two hours later, after a long and silent car ride, the vehicle stopped in front of a towering villa in the city. A penthouse that looked more like a palace than a home.
"This… this is where Ethan lives?" Larah asked weakly, her eyes widening at the sight of the grand building.
"Yes," Marco said curtly, opening her door. "Stay inside. Ethan will return tomorrow night. Until then, you will wait for him here. And don't even think about running. It's too dangerous for you out there."
Larah stepped out slowly, her body trembling, her mind racing with unans
wered questions. Why was she here? Why was Ethan keeping her close when she wanted nothing to do with his world?
She swallowed hard, her gaze lingering on the luxurious penthouse looming over her.
One thing was certain—her life would never be the same again.