Serena Miller knew the exact moment her life ended.
It wasn't when her father's trembling hands gripped her shoulders, nor when strange men shoved her into their car.
It was right now.
This very moment.
The casino called 'Inferno' was dazzling on the surface.
Crystal chandeliers poured golden light over blood-red velvet carpets, and the cheerful clatter of roulette wheels filled the air.
But the place Serena was dragged to had nothing to do with that glamour.
The further they moved from the main hall, the dimmer the lights became.
The guard's hand clamped around her arm so tightly she thought her circulation might stop.
Serena stumbled after him.
She had no strength to resist, no courage to run.
A staircase leading underground appeared.
Cold air slapped her face.
The stairs seemed endless.
With each step down, Serena's heart hammered faster.
Something inside her chest felt like it would explode.
She tried to breathe, but her throat closed up as if blocked, refusing to let air in.
This is a dream.
A nightmare.
I'll wake up soon.
She told herself that.
But her fingertips brushing against the stairwell wall were cold and rough.
Too vivid.
This was no dream.
Sweat trickled down her spine.
Cold sweat.
The sweat of terror.
Serena's legs trembled, her knees buckled.
She nearly collapsed several times, but the guard caught her—not out of kindness, but to ensure the merchandise remained undamaged.
The underground corridor was narrow and damp.
The walls reeked of mold, and somewhere, water dripped steadily.
Serena walked to that sound.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
That rhythmic noise felt like a countdown to her doom.
Dad will come for me.
He has to.
Dad loves me.
Serena wanted to believe it.
But deep in her heart, she already knew.
Her father wasn't coming.
No—her father might be the very one who'd sent her here.
Finally, they stopped before a door.
An old iron door.
A rusted handle.
The guard knocked.
"Boss, she's here."
Silence stretched for a moment.
Then a voice came from inside.
"Come in."
The voice was low and rough.
A command.
One that could not be refused.
The door opened.
Cigar smoke greeted her.
Serena suppressed a cough as she stepped inside.
The room was dark and cramped, with only a single lamp illuminating the leather sofa at its center.
And on that sofa sat him.
Dante Moretti.
Serena had heard his name before.
The emperor of New York's underworld.
A man who could erase people from the map with a snap of his fingers.
But rumors didn't capture even half of his overwhelming presence.
He wore a perfectly tailored black suit.
His broad shoulders and solid build radiated power through silhouette alone.
His face was sharp as a sculpture, and beneath dark brows, his eyes gleamed cold and calculating.
The stubble along his jawline made him look even more dangerous.
He held a cigar between his lips, exhaling smoke slowly as his gaze traveled over Serena.
His eyes started at her face, then moved down to her neck, her shoulders, and lower still.
As if appraising her.
Pricing her.
Serena shrank back.
His gaze felt like it was crawling across her skin.
"Come in."
He said it again.
This time lower, more threatening.
The guard behind Serena shoved her further into the room, then closed the door.
Click.
The sound of the lock engaging amplified her terror.
Serena instinctively stepped backward.
Dante's lips curled into something like a smirk.
"Don't even think about running.
The door out of here only opens when I allow it."
He set his cigar in an ashtray and slowly rose to his feet.
He had to be at least six-three.
Against Serena's small frame, he looked like a massive predator.
Dante approached her with deliberate slowness.
Serena held her breath.
Each of his footsteps sounded like a death knell.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
He stopped in front of her.
The distance between them—mere inches.
Serena could feel his body heat.
He was hot.
The warmth radiating from him crashed against her cold skin.
And the smell.
Cigar smoke and whiskey mixed with something masculine and dangerous.
It paralyzed her senses.
Serena would have to crane her neck to look up at him.
But she didn't.
She feared that meeting his eyes would shatter her completely.
"You won't look at me?"
Amusement laced his tone.
Serena bit her lip.
Her chin trembled, but she refused to raise her head.
"...No."
Her voice came out thin and shaky, but defiance threaded through it.
Dante's eyes sharpened.
He grabbed her chin roughly.
Serena swallowed a small cry.
His fingers were hot and callused.
The rough texture of his fingertips pressed into her soft skin.
The pressure was intense—so strong her jawbone ached.
But he didn't care.
He forced her face upward.
Serena's eyes met his.
His eyes were black.
Deep, dark abysses.
There was no emotion in them.
No compassion, no mercy, no humanity.
Only cold calculation.
He didn't see her as a person.
He saw her as a thing.
A possession.
"You don't have the right to refuse, Little Bird."
His voice was soft, but steel-edged threats ran beneath it.
Serena's heart pounded wildly.
She tried to pull away from his grip, but his strength was overwhelming.
The more she struggled, the tighter his hand squeezed.
"...Why did you bring me here?"
Her voice trembled, but she stared straight into his eyes.
Trying not to crumble.
Trying to pretend she wasn't terrified.
Dante studied her for a moment.
Then, slowly—so slowly—he spoke.
"Your father sold you to me."
Serena's face drained of all color.
"...What?"
"Didn't you hear me?
Arthur Miller.
Your father."
"That man owes me two and a half million dollars.
He doesn't have the means to pay it back."
Dante didn't release her chin.
If anything, he gripped it harder.
"So that man made me an offer."
"He'd give me his daughter."
"Said if he gave me his virgin daughter, I should forgive his debt."
Tears spilled from Serena's eyes.
She couldn't believe it.
No—she didn't want to believe it.
"...You're lying."
"Lying?"
Dante scoffed.
He pulled a document from his pocket and thrust it in front of her face.
Serena looked at the paper.
Her vision blurred, but the words were crystal clear.
[DEBT TRANSFER AGREEMENT]
Debtor: Arthur Miller
Collateral: Daughter Serena Miller (age 23)
Signature: Arthur Miller
At the bottom of the document was her father's signature.
That signature—she'd known it since childhood.
Serena's mind went white.
Memories flashed through her consciousness.
When she was little, her father would sit her on his knee and read her fairy tales.
"Serena, you're Daddy's princess."
He'd say that while stroking her hair.
When she got her college acceptance letter, her father had cried and hugged her tight.
"You're the pride of our family, Serena."
Had it all been a lie?
That love, that pride, those promises—all of it false?
Her father said he loved her.
Said he'd protect her.
But now, that same father had sold her.
For two and a half million dollars.
To pay off gambling debts.
Serena's legs gave out.
She nearly collapsed on the spot, but Dante's grip on her chin kept her upright.
"Believe me now?"
Dante's voice dripped with mockery.
Serena bit her lip.
Hard enough to draw blood.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, but she didn't sob.
Didn't make a sound.
She would not break in front of this man.
"...I'm not a thing."
Her voice shook but remained firm.
"I'm a person.
You can't buy me with money."
Dante fell silent.
Then suddenly, he released her.
Serena stumbled backward.
Dante returned to the sofa.
He crossed his legs and draped his arms over the backrest.
The perfect posture of absolute power.
"You're right.
You're not a thing."
He paused.
"You're my thing."
Serena's face twisted with rage.
"I'm not—"
"Shut up."
Dante's voice dropped low and menacing.
Serena's mouth snapped shut instinctively.
"Now I'm going to tell you the rules.
Listen carefully, Little Bird.
I won't repeat myself."
He began counting on his fingers.
"First, you cannot leave this estate without my permission.
Second, you come whenever I call.
Third, you don't lie to me.
Fourth..."
He paused.
His eyes darkened.
"You don't betray me.
If you do..."
He stood and approached her again.
Serena wanted to flee, but there was a wall behind her.
Dante caged her against that wall.
His hands pressed against the surface on either side of her head.
Serena was trapped in his arms.
"...If you betray me, I'll burn down everything you love.
Your friends, your memories, your future.
Everything."
His breath touched her face.
Whiskey and cigar smoke.
Serena couldn't even breathe.
"Understood?"
Serena looked up at him with trembling eyes.
She didn't want to answer.
But his gaze demanded it.
"...Understood."
Her voice barely escaped.
Dante smiled with satisfaction.
But that smile held no warmth.
It was colder, crueler.
"Good.
Now you're mine, Serena."
He pronounced her name.
Coming from his lips, it sounded like a declaration of ownership.
Serena swallowed her tears.
She clenched her teeth, refusing to crumble.
I will survive.
That was the promise she made to herself.
Dante pulled away from her.
He walked toward the door.
"Enzo!"
The door opened, and a large man entered.
"Take her to the estate.
Lock her in one of the back rooms.
Twenty-four-hour surveillance."
"Yes, Boss."
Enzo gestured to Serena.
She rose on shaking legs.
As she moved toward the door, Dante's voice stopped her.
"Oh, and Serena."
She didn't turn around.
"Don't even think about running.
It'll take me one hour to find you.
And the punishment you'll receive then..."
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Enzo's hand gripped Serena's arm.
His hold wasn't as brutal as Dante's, but it was still firm.
Serena didn't resist.
What would be the point?
They retraced their path through the underground corridor and climbed the stairs.
The casino's dazzling lights greeted her again, but they meant nothing now.
For Serena, the world had already ended.
Outside the building, a car waited.
A black Mercedes.
The windows were tinted so dark she couldn't see inside.
Enzo opened the back door.
"Get in."
Serena climbed into the vehicle.
The leather seats were soft, but to her, they felt cold.
Enzo sat beside her.
Another guard occupied the driver's seat.
The car pulled away.
Serena stared out the window.
New York's night remained brilliant.
Neon signs blazed, people walked the streets.
They laughed and talked, living their ordinary lives.
Serena envied them.
Just hours ago, she'd been one of them.
But now she was different.
She was no longer free.
She was someone's property.
The car left downtown and headed toward the outskirts.
Buildings disappeared, replaced by trees.
The road narrowed.
Serena had no idea where they were taking her.
Finally, the car stopped.
Serena looked out the window.
Her breath caught.
A massive estate loomed before her.
No—calling it an estate didn't do it justice.
It was a fortress.
An enormous stone fortress.
High walls and iron gates surrounded it.
Guards were stationed everywhere.
"Get out."
Enzo's voice broke through her thoughts.
Serena stepped out of the car.
Night wind whipped through her hair.
It was cold.
She looked up at the mansion.
Most windows were dark, but light leaked from a few.
She felt like someone inside was watching her.
This is going to be my prison.
Serena realized.
Enzo led her forward.
They passed through the main gate and entered the foyer.
Marble floors echoed her footsteps.
The ceiling soared high, a chandelier hanging from it.
Expensive paintings lined the walls.
All of this belonged to Dante Moretti.
And now, so did she.
Enzo guided her to a staircase.
They climbed to the second floor and walked down a long corridor before he stopped in front of a room.
"Here."
He opened the door.
Inside was darkness.
Enzo flicked on the light.
The room was spacious.
A king-size bed dominated the center, with a wardrobe and vanity positioned nearby.
There was a window—but bars covered it from the outside.
"Stay here.
Someone will come tomorrow morning to explain the rules."
Enzo said.
Then he left.
Click.
The lock sounded again.
Serena was alone.
She sank onto the bed.
And finally, she cried.
Silently, tears streaming down her face.
What's going to happen to me?
She didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
Her life now rested in Dante Moretti's hands.