Chapter 2
990 Words
The car ride was long and suffocating.
Lena sat stiffly in the backseat, her hands folded tightly in her lap, fingers curling into the fabric of her worn dress. She didn’t dare lift her gaze. The man seated next to her radiated an intimidating stillness like a panther biding its time. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, drowning out every other sound except the soft hum of the engine.
No one had told her his name.
He didn’t offer it either.
All she knew was that he was a billionaire. Wealthy enough to buy anything or anyone.
Including her.
Her throat tightened at the memory of her stepfather’s voice: “She’s of no use to me. She’s delicate. Broken. But she’ll suit your taste.”
And the man didn’t object. He merely nodded, slipped money into her stepfather’s hand, and walked away expecting her to follow.
And she did.
Because what choice did she have?
The city’s bright lights faded behind them, swallowed by the deeper shadows of the countryside. Each passing second felt like another step away from freedom. From her past. From whatever little control she once had.
The silence between them stretched, heavy and unrelenting. She glanced sideways, trying to steal a look at him. His profile was a sharp chiselled jawline, lips pressed into a firm line, eyes focused ahead. There was a cold beauty to him. The kind that didn’t invite questions.
He was dressed in an all black tailored suit, crisp shirt, no tie. His presence was composed, but beneath it, Lena could sense a quiet storm. The kind that didn’t lash out... until it did.
The sleek black car finally began to slow, rolling up to a set of wrought-iron gates. They opened automatically, like the jaws of some metal beast welcoming them into its belly.
As the mansion came into view, Lena's breath caught in her throat.
No it wasn’t a mansion.
It was a kingdom.
The estate loomed large and regal, with towering pillars and marble steps, glowing faintly under soft exterior lights. Trees lined the driveway like guards. Everything screamed wealth and power. And yet, there was something cold about it. Something distant. Like a palace carved from ice.
The car stopped.
Lena didn’t move until the driver opened her door. She stepped out slowly, her legs stiff and unsteady beneath her. The night air nipped at her skin, but she barely noticed.
The man walked ahead without looking back.
Expecting her to follow.
And that's exactly what happened.
The doors of the mansion swung open before them, revealing a grand foyer bathed in golden light. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their reflections dancing across marble floors. A sweeping staircase curved upward like something out of a fairytale.
A very twisted fairytale.
He led her up the stairs without a word. She counted her steps to stay grounded one, two, three anything to drown out the whirlwind inside her head. When they stopped at a pair of tall, ivory double doors, her chest tightened.
He opened one of them.
Gestured.
Lena stepped inside cautiously.
The room was massive. A suite, really. Far too large for one person. A king-sized bed stood at the center, draped in snow-white sheets and soft grey pillows. Velvet curtains framed the windows. There was a walk-in closet to the left, a private bathroom to the right, and a fireplace crackling softly in the corner.
It was beautiful.
And yet, it didn’t feel like hers.
“You’ll stay here,” he said at last, his voice deep, quiet, and measured. “This is your space. Use what you need. If you require anything, ring the bell.”
Lena’s eyes flicked toward the nightstand. There it was a small golden bell. Polished. Delicate.
Like her.
She didn’t speak.
He looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he asked, “Your name?”
“L-Lena,” she whispered.
He gave a curt nod. “I’m Damian.”
With that, he turned and walked out, the door clicking shut behind him.
She waited for the sound.
There it was.
Click.
Locked.
She stood frozen, staring at the door. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as reality set in. She wasn’t a guest here.
She was a possession.
Lena rushed forward, gripped the doorknob, twisted it.
It didn’t budge.
A quiet, broken laugh escaped her lips.
Of course.
She backed away slowly, her feet sinking into the plush carpet. Her knees trembled, but she refused to let herself fall. Not yet. Not in front of no one.
Her eyes scanned the room again. It was too perfect. Immaculate. Like a dollhouse.
And she was the doll.
She made her way to the bed, sat on the edge, and finally allowed her hands to shake freely. Her fingers brushed against the silk sheets, too soft, too clean. Her room growing up had a creaky cot and a broken ceiling fan. This? This was another world.
A prettier prison.
She thought of her mother and how she used to sing to her when she was little, humming lullabies while brushing her hair. She thought of the warmth of her voice, now just a memory buried beneath grief and silence.
Her stepfather had taken everything.
And now he had sold her too.
She lay down, curling beneath the heavy blankets. They smelled faintly of roses and something unfamiliar. She stared at the chandelier above, letting the tears slip quietly down her cheeks.
She didn’t sob.
She just... leaked.
Emotion without noise. Grief without drama.
That was how she had learned to survive.
But tonight, something cracked a little deeper.
Because no matter how luxurious the room was, no matter how soft the sheets, how grand the walls jt didn’t change the truth.
She was alone.
And she didn’t know what Dominic wanted from her yet.
But she was certain it came with a price.
- Writer
