The third morning came with silence. No sunlight. No knock. No instructions. Just me, lying there naked in satin sheets, sore in places I’d never known could ache. I didn’t know if I was supposed to move, get dressed, eat. I didn’t know anything except that every muscle in my body remembered him. His hands. His voice. The way he didn’t ask—only took.
I had no phone. No clock. No window that opened. This mansion, for all its beauty, was a cage, and I was its most valuable possession. I wasn’t here to feel safe. I was here to be owned.
When the door opened, I sat up quickly, drawing the sheet to cover my chest. It wasn’t him. A woman walked in—tall, poised, wearing all black. She didn’t look at me when she spoke.
“Come with me.”
I didn’t ask questions. I followed her down a hallway I had
