Alex woke up the next morning feeling like absolute shit. His body was sore all over, a deep, invasive soreness that made even breathing feel intrusive. He lay there for several long seconds, staring at the ceiling, trying to will himself into motion, but his limbs felt heavy and uncooperative.
"It really happened," he muttered to himself, fingers absentmindedly tugging at the hem of his nightwear.
His mind betrayed him immediately. It flashed back to the night before..the fagments, weight, heat, force and everything ,he shuddered.
This wasn't his first time having sex. No. In fact, he had gone through five boyfriends before ever stepping foot into this place. He knew what intimacy felt like. He knew what consent looked like. He knew what it meant to want and be wanted.
But he also knew what this had been and it was not that.
It had been aggressive and Uneased Something taken and not shared.
He exhaled sharply and pushed himself upright, standing abruptly — and instantly regretted it. The pain that shot through him was blinding, so intense he froze mid-step.
"How the hell do pornstars survive orgies?" he muttered bitterly under his breath.
The attempt at humor didn't land. Not even with himself.
Nevertheless, he was still a worker in this estate. Responsibilities did not pause for personal ruin. Antonio had been drunk last night ... or at least that was the narrative Alex had constructed to survive it ...and he probably wouldn't even admit to what he had done if confronted.
But Alex was wrong...the door clicked softly.
Antonio stepped in, holding a tray of tea and biscuits. The porcelain rattled faintly against the silverware; his grip was not steady. Worry was etched plainly across his face it was not exaggerated, not theatrical, but real enough to notice.
Alex glanced at him and sighed.
Antonio had fallen from grace in his eyes. The dangerously calm, composed man he had once observed from a cautious distance was gone. In his place stood something else something distorted.
A monster. In that moment, he looked worse than Raphael.
"Hi," Antonio muttered.
The tray vibrated slightly in his hands.
Alex ignored him. He picked up his phone, tapped something on the screen without expression, dropped it back onto the side table, and walked toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him without another word.
He didn't want to talk to his rapist.
Not now.Not ever.
He stood under the shower longer than necessary, letting the water run over him in scalding streams. He intentionally stretched the time — forty minutes, maybe more — scrubbing at his skin as if friction could undo memory. The sting returned when he tried to clean himself properly, and he clenched his jaw, refusing to react even in privacy.
There were faint traces of blood. He looked away.
Gradual, he told himself. The body doesn't just collapse overnight. It takes time to register damage. To respond.
When he finally stepped out, towel tied loosely around his waist, numbness clinging to him like a second skin, Antonio was still there.
The tray had been placed neatly on the side table. Antonio now sat on the edge of the bed, face buried in his palm.
He stood immediately when Alex emerged.
Alex flinched..It was subtle, but undeniable.
Antonio noticed.he took a step forward, then stopped when Alex stepped back — three large steps — until he was almost pressed against the bathroom threshold again.
"I need to talk to you," Antonio said.
"I don't want to," Alex replied flatly, limping toward the wardrobe.
"Please."
There it was...The Guilt. It sat heavy in Antonio's chest, corrosive and unfamiliar. This had not been calculated. It had not been strategic. It had been a lapse — a loss of composure he prided himself on never having.
He had liked Alex from the moment he saw him being brought into the estate — brown hair, feeble composure, something fragile yet defiant that unsettled him every time their paths crossed. Antonio had been with many people before — mostly women. The men had been fleeting indulgences.
But Alex—
Still, liking him had never been justification for perpetuating such heinous task.
This was the first time Antonio had truly lost control. That was something Raphael did not him.
"I bled," Alex said suddenly, cutting through Antonio's spiraling thoughts.
He let the towel drop deliberately.
Antonio turned his face away immediately, shielding his eyes with his palm.
"What's the problem?" Alex asked, voice edged with dark mockery. "It's nothing you haven't seen."
Antonio's throat tightened.
"I'll call a doctor."
Alex said nothing.
"Leave," Alex continued coldly. "I want to get ready for work."
"You're relieved of duties for two months," Antonio said quickly. "You can stay here. Or— you can move to my side of the manor."
Alex laughed at once.
"What? So you can rape me again?"
"That's not what I meant."
"I'm going to work anyway," Alex replied. "At least today. I have to inform Vera I'll be taking leave."
Antonio's face lit up — relief flickering through him at the implication that Alex wasn't completely withdrawing.
"But I won't be staying in your wing," Alex added calmly. "Or here at all."
Antonio's expression shifted immediately — distress, sharply written all over his face.
"Where are you going?"
"Away," Alex said. "But I'll be back."
They stared at each other in heavy silence.
Antonio nodded slowly then he left quietly.
***
The kitchen staff avoided eye contact when Alex entered later that morning. And Alex wondered whether they knew about the rape even though it wasn't probable.
As he stepped out of the kitchen corridor, he nearly collided with Raphael.
Raphael stopped short.
For a split second, Alex saw him differently.
Not as a Rodrigo...not as Antonio's brother.
But as something steadier and Higher than his trashy brother...Raoheal seemed Controlled in ways that didn't feel suffocating. And Alex wonderd if it was because Antonio was no more the same to him. He seemed like an Angel.
Raphael's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in Alex's posture — the lack of his usual rigid determination.
"You don't look like yourself," Raphael observed. Alex held his gaze.
"Ask your brother about it."
The air shifted.
Raphael's expression darkened.
"What happened?"
Alex didn't elaborate.
"Ask Antonio," he repeated bluntly.
Silence stretched between them.
Raphael studied him for another second, then nodded once.
Without another word, he turned and began walking down the corridor ,with something unmistakable in his stride.Purpose
And somewhere down the hall, a confrontation was about to begin.