"Mom, no! I'm begging you... Please don't throw me to the Kingsleys!" Aleena's voice cracked, her vocal cords feeling as though they were tearing under the weight of her terror. "Please, Mom!"
"Shut up, Aleena!" The snap of Elise's voice instantly severed Aleena's hope.
"Mom!"
"I've been generous enough with you!" Elise spun around, pinning her daughter with a gaze colder and sharper than a blade. "Handing you over to the Kingsleys' only son is a blessing. You'll still get to go to school, Aleena. Would you prefer I sell you to some old fossil who'll chain you to a bed and use you as nothing more than a plaything?"
Aleena's world was shattered as her small frame was dragged forcibly through the giant iron gates of the Kingsley estate. As the iron bars slammed shut with a deafening clang, Aleena knew—she had just been tossed into a gilded cage.
She never imagined she would set foot on this ground. During her three years at Ravenswood Academy, the Kingsleys were nothing more than untouchable aristocratic shadows. Aleena remembered how their luxury cars would glide past the school gates, splashing rainwater onto her dull uniform and her old shoes.
For Aleena Hartley, the Kingsleys were gods; she was merely the dust swept beneath their heels.
"Mom! Have you completely lost your mind?!" Aleena screamed, tears blurring her vision. "How can you do this? How can you sell me? I'm the only family you have!"
Elise leaned in, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her despite the thick powder masking her weary face. She whispered words colder than a Ravenswood winter.
"I'd rather embrace luxury in solitude than embrace poverty with you," Elise hissed, a bitter smile curling her red lips. "Don't embarrass me, my little girl. Now, get inside."
***
Inside the cold, sandalwood-scented study, Charles Kingsley sat like a king on his throne. On his mahogany desk, a silver briefcase lay open, revealing stacks of cash so thick they made Elise's eyes glint with pure greed.
"She's beautiful. She's smart enough. And most importantly," Elise shoved Aleena forward until the girl stumbled, "she attends the same academy as your son. She knows how to behave in your circles."
Charles studied Aleena from behind his glasses. It wasn't the gaze of a father, but the cold, calculating look of a collector appraising a vintage artifact.
"Do you know why you are here, Aleena?" Charles asked, his voice devoid of warmth.
Aleena gripped the hem of her shawl, her knuckles white. Not a single sound dared to escape her throat.
"You are going to be the tool I use to control my son," Charles interjected. "He's been destroying everything lately because he gets bored with women too easily. So, I'm giving him one woman to break however he pleases. You are my asset and my son's toy, Aleena. Do you understand your purpose?"
Gulp.
Aleena felt her heart stop. She was a sacrifice—a lamb her own mother had led to the slaughter for a suitcase full of money.
Before she could process the horror, the door swung open without a knock.
A young man strolled in with an arrogant stride. His black blazer was draped over his shoulders, the top buttons of his shirt undone, radiating a thick aura of rebellion.
It was Lucas Kingsley.
Aleena held her breath.
Once, at school, she had stood behind him in the cafeteria line. She remembered the scent of his expensive, masculine cologne and the untouchable strength of his back. Back then, Lucas hadn't even turned around when she accidentally bumped his bag. To him, Aleena was nothing more than a piece of invisible school furniture.
Lucas stopped in the center of the room. His icy gaze flickered from the briefcase of cash to Aleena.
"Who is this?" Lucas asked, his voice low and dripping with disdain. "Another one of your new toys, Father? Is your taste shifting toward innocent little girls now?"
Charles offered a thin, chilling smile that made the hair on Aleena's neck stand up. "Not mine, Lucas. Yours. She will live here. She will go to school with you. And you can do whatever you want with her, as long as you stop messing with my investments."
Lucas stepped closer. He stopped right in front of Aleena, so close she could see her own miserable reflection in his dark eyes.
He reached out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up. His fingers were cold—as rigid as ice.
"I've seen you at school," Lucas murmured flatly.
Aleena's heart dropped. He remembered her?
But his next words crushed what little remained of her dignity.
"The pretty scholarship girl who's rumored to be hunting for a rich heir to save her from poverty, right?" Lucas released her chin with a flick, as if he had just touched something filthy. "So, you finally caught me?"
Elise actually let out a small laugh as she reached for the briefcase. "You think she's pretty? Yes, this beautiful girl is yours now. She's very obedient, Young Master. You'll grow to like her."
Aleena stared at her mother, her throat constricted. This wasn't the first time she had heard such demeaning words from her, but now? While this family was tearing her apart?
"Mom..."
"You'll be happy living here. Goodbye."
Aleena could only watch as her mother walked away, stepping out of the room without a single backward glance.
In that grand, suffocating study, Aleena realized one thing: her life had just ended, right at the feet of a man who didn't even consider her human.
***
The mansion never slept, but it never felt alive either.
After her mother left with the suitcase of cash—without so much as a parting hug—Aleena didn't even have time to mourn her life. She was ushered toward the west wing by a middle-aged housekeeper named Martha.
Her room was at the very end of a long corridor, far from the grandeur of the main halls, yet still far more luxurious than her entire old apartment.
"Master Charles wants you ready by six in the morning," Martha stated flatly, her eyes never meeting Aleena's. "Your new school uniforms are in the closet. Don't cause trouble, or you'll learn the consequences."
Click. The door closed.
Aleena stood frozen in the center of the room. She didn't dare sit on the bed; the sheets looked so white, so expensive. She felt like an ink stain on a clean sheet of paper.
The silence of Kingsley Manor was suffocating. There were no screams from her mother, no sound of breaking bottles, but this stillness was far more terrifying. She felt as though the high walls themselves were watching her.
Is this where my life ends?
Just as the thought crossed her mind, her door swung open without a knock.
Aleena flinched, her heart leaping into her throat. In the dim light of the doorway stood a tall silhouette she knew all too well.
Lucas Kingsley.
He had discarded his blazer. His white shirt was a mess, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. In his hand, he held a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. The faint scent of alcohol wafted from him, but his eyes didn't look drunk. They were sharp, alert, and dangerous.
"So," Lucas stepped inside, kicking the door shut with the heel of his shoe. "How much did my father pay for a scholarship girl like you?"
Aleena backed away until her spine hit the heavy wooden wardrobe. "I... I don't know. I didn't even touch the money."
"Don't lie." Lucas moved closer, pinning her into the small space. He slammed one hand against the wardrobe, right beside her head. "Your mother looked ecstatic when she left. I'm sure you cost more than a racehorse, but certainly less than a wristwatch."
Aleena looked down, trying to hide the trembling of her lips. "I didn't even know what was happening! I came home from school, and she dragged me here. The transaction happened, and I was abandoned by a mother who was happier walking out of here with a suitcase of cash!"
Lucas looked slightly taken aback by her outburst. He had expected a professional seductress—a meek, submissive girl. Apparently, she had a little rebel inside her after all.
"Interesting," Lucas mocked. He took a sip of his drink, his eyes scanning her face until they stopped on the bruise beginning to bloom on her cheek—the mark of her mother's slap from that morning.
Lucas reached out, his cold fingers brushing against the bruise. Aleena winced, instinctively closing her eyes.
"What's this?" he whispered. His tone wasn't one of concern; it was a cruel sort of curiosity.
"A slap," Aleena said flatly. "My other cheek isn't bruised yet. Do you want to hit that one too?"
The corner of Lucas's mouth twitched—a thin smirk that didn't reach his eyes. Instead of slapping her, he pressed his thumb a little harder against the bruise, making Aleena let out a stifled gasp of pain.
"Slap you?" Lucas whispered against her face. "That's too boring. My father bought you so I wouldn't be bored, right? If I ruin your face now, I can't have my fun."
He pulled his hand away and downed the rest of his drink. He turned, walking toward the large window that overlooked the dark Kingsley labyrinth garden.
"Listen, Aleena. Whether at school or in this house, you are nothing but my personal servant. You will carry my bag, do my assignments, and most importantly..." he turned back, his gaze that of a predator, "you do not breathe without my permission."
"Why are you doing this?" Aleena's voice shook. "I've never done anything to you."
"Your existence is the mistake," Lucas replied sharply. "You are the symbol of my father's control over me. And since I can't destroy my father, I will destroy anything he gives me. Including you. Don't ever think you can control me, little girl."