I didn't sleep.
Sleep didn't come to people like me anymore.
The room they locked me in was bigger than the entire apartment my mother and I once shared. The bed alone could swallow three people whole. Thick curtains fell from the ceiling to the floor like heavy prison bars made of fabric. The chandelier above glimmered softly, mocking me with luxury I never asked for.
I stood frozen near the door long after the guard left.
This was not a guest room.
This was a cage—a beautiful, silent cage.
My fingers trembled as I touched the door handle. Locked. Of course. I pressed my ear to the wood, listening. Two guards stood outside. I could hear the faint rustle of their boots.
So this was my new reality.
I slipped down the door slowly until I was sitting on the cold marble floor, my knees pulled to my chest. The events of the night crashed over me like violent waves.
My mother's debt.
That man's voice.
"You now belong to me."
A sob tore from my throat before I could stop it.
I pressed my palm against my mouth to silence myself. Crying wouldn't save me. Screaming wouldn't either. No one in this house would hear me—not in the way that mattered.
I lifted my head slowly and stared at the giant mirror across the room.
The girl staring back at me looked hollow.
Her eyes were swollen and red. Her hair was tangled and wet at the tips from the rain. Her lips were pale. She looked like a frightened stranger trapped inside my skin.
Was this how captives were born?
I forced myself to stand and explore the room, even though every step felt like I was walking deeper into a nightmare. There was a wardrobe filled with expensive dresses—none of them mine. Shoes lined neatly beneath it. Jewelry sparkled on a glass tray.
Prepared.
He had prepared for me.
The thought sent a chill through my spine.
On the bedside table lay a folded note. My heart thudded as I picked it up with shaking fingers.
You will be escorted to the dining hall by 8am.
You will not attempt to escape.
Disobedience has consequences.
– D.B.
My stomach twisted violently.
There was no kindness in the words. No mercy. Only command.
I didn't know when I fell asleep, but exhaustion eventually grabbed me and dragged me into darkness.
---
A sharp knock on the door snapped me awake.
I jolted upright in the bed, disoriented, my heart pounding. Morning light filtered through the curtains. For a split second, I forgot where I was—
Then everything crashed back.
The knock came again.
"Get ready," a woman's voice ordered from outside. "Ten minutes."
The door unlocked and opened slightly. A middle-aged woman stepped in, her face strict but not cruel. She wore a gray uniform and kept her eyes on the floor.
"I'm Rosa," she said quietly. "I run the female staff here."
I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around myself. "Why am I here?" I asked weakly.
Her jaw tightened. "That's not a question I can answer."
She walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a simple black dress—nothing flashy, nothing revealing. "Wear this. Breakfast is mandatory."
Mandatory.
Like I was a soldier.
Or a prisoner.
When she turned away, I changed quickly. My body stopped shaking at some point, maybe because fear had gone numb. Rosa led me out of the room and through long silent corridors. Everything in the mansion felt heavy with power and secrecy.
When we reached the dining hall, my steps slowed.
He was already there.
Damien Blackwood sat at the head of the long table, dressed in black, calm as a king on his throne. A tablet rested in one hand as he scrolled through something, completely unbothered by my presence.
Several men sat along the table as well—danger written on every one of their faces.
My chest tightened painfully.
"Sit," Damien said without looking at me.
I obeyed instantly, lowering into the chair farthest from him.
Food covered the table—bread, eggs, fruits, dishes I didn't even recognize. The smell made my stomach twist in both hunger and fear.
"You will eat," he said calmly.
"I'm not hungry," I whispered.
Every movement at the table froze.
Slowly, Damien lifted his gaze to me.
The room darkened with his stare.
"You will eat," he repeated quietly. "Or you will learn what happens when you disobey me before noon."
My fingers shook as I reached for the spoon.
I ate.
Every bite felt like swallowing shame.
As the men around us finished and stood to leave, Damien finally rose from his seat. The room emptied quickly—too quickly—until it was only me and him again.
He approached my side of the table.
I lowered my head instantly.
"You will attend training starting tomorrow," he said.
"Training?" I repeated in confusion.
He leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but deadly. "You don't belong to the streets anymore. You will learn how to behave, how to speak, how to obey. You will not embarrass me."
"I never wanted to come here," I whispered.
His hand slammed against the table.
I flinched violently.
"Want is not relevant," he snapped. "Your mother's debt made you mine. And while you are under my roof, you live by my rules."
I gathered the little courage I had left. "What if I refuse?"
He looked down at me slowly.
Then he smiled.
It wasn't warm.
It was a warning.
"There is no refusing me."
---
The rest of the day passed like a slow funeral for my old life.
Rosa showed me around the personal areas I was allowed into: the guest wing, the library, the indoor garden. Every door outside those areas required fingerprint access.
No exits.
No freedom.
In the evening, I sat alone in the garden with my knees pulled to my chest. The sky was painted purple and gold, beautiful in a way that hurt. My other life felt so far away it almost felt fake.
Was my mother safe?
Did she even know what had happened to me?
My throat tightened.
A shadow fell over me.
I looked up.
Damien stood there.
My heartbeat spiked instantly.
"You should be resting," he said.
"I couldn't sleep," I answered honestly.
His gaze studied me in silence for a few seconds. Then he sat across from me on the edge of the stone bench. The act shocked me more than I expected.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
"You're afraid of me," he said eventually.
Was that even a question?
"Yes," I whispered.
His eyes darkened slightly. "Good. Fear keeps you alive."
Tears burned behind my eyes. "You act like you saved me… but you destroyed my life."
Silence fell heavy between us.
"You think I enjoy this?" he asked quietly.
I looked at him in confusion.
"You think I asked for your mother to borrow that money? You think I enjoy dragging innocent girls into my world?" There was something sharp in his tone now. Something buried.
"Then why do this?" I cried. "Why me?"
"Because in my world," he said coldly, "debts don't disappear. They are paid."
"By destroying someone else?"
"Yes."
The honesty felt crueler than lies.
A breeze passed through the garden. My skin felt cold despite the warmth of the air.
"You will never touch me," I said suddenly, my voice breaking but firm. "You took my freedom. You won't take my body too."
The air snapped.
Damien stood.
In one fast movement, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. My body collided with his chest again, just like the night before.
His grip was firm—but controlled.
"You confuse possession with desire," he said darkly. "Don't."
His eyes burned into mine. "If I wanted you in that way, you wouldn't need to guess."
My breath hitched violently.
He released me like I burned him.
"Return to your room," he ordered coldly. "Tomorrow your obedience begins."
As I stumbled away with shaking legs, I realized something terrifying.
Damien Blackwood wasn't driven by lust.
He was driven by control.
And that was far more dangerous.
---
That night, as the mansion fell into darkness, I stared at the ceiling and whispered into the silence:
"I will survive this.
No matter what it takes."
But deep inside, another thought whispered back:
Not without scars.