Daisy's POV
The ocean was calm the night l lost her freedom.
Music echoed across the deck, glasses clinked, and laughter floated through the air like nothing in the world could ever go wrong.
I adjusted my uniform and reminded myself—this job would change my life.
What I didn't know it would destroy it instead.
One wrong turn.
One forbidden door.
And I saw something I was never meant to see.
…
…
…
Few hours earlier.
My name is Daisy Walker.
During a high-profile event at sea, I was selected among a few waitresses chosen to serve the VVIP guests. I was excited—more than excited.
High pay.
Elite connections.
A future I had only dreamed of.
The event began flawlessly.
Music echoed across the deck.
Glasses clinked.
Laughter floated through the night air, as though nothing in the world could ever go wrong.
"Daisy Walker."
Our manager's voice cut through the noise.
I straightened my uniform and walked toward him, professional, composed—smiling.
"Yes, Sir James."
His stoic expression warned me even before he spoke.
No mistakes. Absolute perfection.
"Deliver these drinks to the VVIP section," he ordered, eyes sharp.
"And remember—no mistakes."
I nodded curtly and pushed the cart filled with wine glasses and plated desserts, smoothing my dress as I headed toward the restricted deck.
I wish someone had warned me.
I wish I had listened.
As I neared the VVIP door, the room beside it—wide open—caught my attention.
My steps slowed.
Then stopped.
My feet rooted to the floor.
Inside the room were young women… and girls—their faces pale, eyes filled with terror. Some were crying. Some were frozen.
A man sat calmly on a chair.
Dangerous tattoos coiled around his left arm as he marked something on a paper, expression cold and detached.
He looked up suddenly, glaring at the other men in the room.
They were arguing.
I didn't even see where the gun came from.
A loud bang echoed.
One of the men collapsed to the floor, blood pooling beneath him.
The women screamed.
My hands flew to my mouth as I muffled my own cry.
What the hell is this?
What have I just witnessed?
My fingers shook as I discreetly pulled out my phone—recording.
I had to leave.
I had to run.
But it was already too late.
The man's devilish eyes landed on me.
Without blinking, his lips curved into a slow, dark smirk.
I turned to flee.
Two large men appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my arms and crushing me in place.
"Let me go!" I screamed, hoping—praying—someone would hear me.
"Damn it!" one of them barked. "She was recording us!"
My phone was ripped from my hand.
Shock flooded my face.
Then—
A burning slap struck my cheek.
I screamed.
And everything went black.
….
After some time, I slowly began to regain my senses.
I don't know how long it had been—
but I was sure a long time had passed.
And yet… nobody had come looking for me.
"Ugh…"
A painful groan slipped from my lips. My head felt unbearably heavy, like it might split open at any moment. Faint voices echoed around me, distant and unclear.
I couldn't tell who they belonged to.
The last thing I remembered…
I was slapped.
The sting still burned on the right side of my face.
No—that wasn't all.
The man with the tattooed arm.
The women.
The young girls.
That's right!
Where am I?
"Boss, we're done loading the two cargos."
A loud, rough voice suddenly spoke. It clearly belonged to one of the bulky men.
"That's good. Clean up every other thing."
Another voice followed—deep, husky, cold.
Clean up?
What did they mean by that?
My heart stumbled violently in my chest as dread crept in.
Are they planning to kill me?
I screamed the question inside my head, my heart pounding wildly.
"Boss, what do we do with the rest?" the large man asked again.
The rest?
Who were they talking about?
My thoughts spiraled as I forced my heavy eyelids open.
That was when I saw them.
Three… no—four girls.
All around my age.
Including me.
Fear gripped my soul tighter than ever.
Then something else hit me.
Her.
No… it couldn't be.
I recognized her instantly.
"Bella…"
The name slipped from my lips before I could stop myself.
Bella—one of the top waitresses in the ushering agency I worked for.
She had disappeared a month ago.
No explanation.
No trace.
Nobody knew where she had gone.
Her eyes met mine.
They were hollow. Broken.
Tears spilled down her face as she
whispered, "It's over for us…"
"Huh?" Confusion flooded me.
"Shut up!" one of the bulky men snapped, raising his hand to slap her—then stopping himself at the last second.
He cursed under his breath, sneering.
I couldn't take the madness anymore.
Even though fear wrapped around my body, I don't know how—but somehow, I found the courage.
"Why are you doing this to us?" I screamed.
"What do you plan to do with us?!"
My lungs burned from the force of my voice.
"Ssh…"
The man with the terrifying tattoo on his left arm raised a finger to his lips.
Silence fell instantly.
His expression was cold.
Dark.
"Who was the one that couldn't mind her business?" he asked calmly.
His voice slithered through the room, chilling the air.
My body stiffened.
Regret crashed over me.
If only time could rewind…
"As for the remaining girls," the tattooed man said coldly, his voice carrying absolute authority,
"send them to Country A.
Make sure they're handed over to Shark."
His words sounded like death sentences disguised as instructions.
"What about her?" another bulky man asked.
I felt his gaze turn toward me.
I was already numb—sitting on the floor, my hands barely supporting my shaking body.
My eyes dropped to my uniform.
Once crisp.
Perfectly ironed.
Now it was rumpled… dirty… creased.
Just like me.
"Her,"
The tattooed man repeated, staring at me as though I were nothing more than trash beneath his shoes.
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a long cigarette, placing it between his lips.
One of the men leaned over and lit it for him.
He inhaled deeply, then exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
I coughed violently as it drifted into my face.
Then he stood.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Each step he took toward me felt like a countdown to my end.
A strange, sick feeling churned in my stomach.
I scrambled backward until my back hit the cold wall.
He stopped in front of me… then squatted down, his eyes level with mine.
Smoke spilled from his lips as he spoke.
The smell of tobacco and cologne invaded my senses.
I coughed violently as smoke flooded my face.
He gripped my chin with long fingers, forcing me to look at him.
"I see a lost cat," he said quietly.
"And this cat is coming back to Hong Kong with me."
Silence fell. After his words.
His subordinate's eyes widened.
"Boss?"
"That's final," he said flatly.
Without another word, the men began moving—dragging boxes, arranging documents, clearing the room like this was nothing more than routine business.
My fate had been decided in seconds.
Rough hands grabbed me, hauling me up.
I was dragged onto the deck, the cold sea breeze slapping my skin harshly.
My elbows scraped painfully against the floor.
My hands were tied tightly behind my back.
A helicopter was already waiting.
I was shoved inside and strapped roughly to a seat.
The man with the deadly tattoo stood nearby, watching me with an evil smirk as the engine roared to life.
The helicopter lifted off the deck.
Higher.
Higher.
Away from everything I had ever known.
As the lights of the cruise ship faded below, tears blurred my vision.
So this is it…
My fate decided in just a few hours.
Sold.
At sea.