Days blurred together. Work. Hunger. The attic's freezing nights.
One evening, Madam Alvez sent Iana to one of their shops to mop the floors. Her hands were red and raw from scrubbing, her small frame bent as she dragged the heavy bucket of water across the tiles.
She didn't notice the man at first. He stood in the corner, watching her, until his voice cut through the silence.
"You look tired," he said smoothly. "And hungry."
Iana's head lifted, emerald eyes wide. No one ever spoke to her that way. She tightened her grip on the mop.
"I… I am," she admitted softly.
He smiled and reached into his coat, pulling out a small piece of bread. The smell hit her like a knife to the stomach.
"Come with me. I'll give you more."
Her chest fluttered with hope. Maybe just maybe someone was kind. She followed him out of the shop, her bare feet slapping against the stones as they walked further from the busy streets, further from safety.
The path twisted into the woods, where an old cottage leaned against the shadows. He opened the door and gestured her inside.
She hesitated, but hunger gnawed at her. She stepped in.
The air was damp, cold. The door shut behind her with a heavy click.
"You're still a child," the man whispered, eyes dark as they swept over her trembling body. His hand reached out, brushing the thin fabric of her dress. "Let me see you…"
Iana froze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn't understand, but shame burned in her chest, crawling over her skin. His touch was rough, frightening.
And then, just as suddenly, he pulled away. His smile twisted.
"Not yet," he murmured. "I'll come back for you when you're older."
He left her there, shaking, her small hands clutching the rags around her chest.
By the time she stumbled back to the mansion, her legs were weak, her voice breaking as she told the Alvez family what had happened.
Instead of concern, Madam Alvez struck her across the face.
"Disgusting child! How dare you bring such filth back here? Get out of my sight!"
Kicked down to the floor, Iana fled to the attic, curling up against the icy wall, her body trembling with fear she couldn't name.
Later, a knock came at the door. A servant slipped in, carrying a small bowl of soup. When she saw Iana's torn dress and frightened eyes, her lips parted in shock.
"My poor child…" she whispered, crouching beside her. "What have they done to you?"
Iana's voice cracked. "He said… he'll come back."
The servant's hands trembled as she brushed Iana's tangled hair back from her face.
"Then listen to me," she said, her voice urgent, almost desperate. "You must stay strong. No matter what happens you can't let them break you."