Worthless Gift

Chapter 2: The First Night

The black car moved silently away from the luxurious auction mansion, heading straight into the thick darkness of the night. Amelia sat huddled in the backseat, fear gripping her like an iron vise. The man who had just bought her-Charles Whitmore-sat beside her, his gaze fixed forward. He said nothing, merely signaling to the driver to proceed.

She had no idea where they were taking her, but the scenery outside gradually changed. The opulent mansions faded into the distance, giving way to bustling streets lit by dazzling lights. Eventually, the car stopped in front of a small yet elegant building-a discreet but luxurious inn.

Charles stepped out of the car, giving a curt command: “Get out.”

Amelia obeyed, her legs trembling as she climbed the marble steps. Before she could fully process her surroundings, a uniformed manager appeared, bowing respectfully to Charles.

“The room is ready, sir.” He said.

Charles nodded and turned to Amelia. “Follow me.”

. . .

Amelia followed him silently into the elevator. Room 305 was on the top floor of the inn, and the door opened to reveal a lavishly decorated space. Soft golden light illuminated leather sofas and a large bed draped in pristine white sheets. But to Amelia, the luxury only heightened her sense of dread.

Charles shut the door behind them, and the air in the room grew stifling. He removed his jacket, hung it neatly, and turned to her, his eyes scrutinizing her every move.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?”

Amelia said nothing, her head bowed as her hands clenched tightly to suppress the sobs threatening to escape her throat.

“Look at me,” Charles commanded, his voice cold and firm.

Slowly, Amelia raised her tear-streaked face to meet his piercing gaze.

“You belong to me now. I paid a great deal of money for you, and I don’t tolerate defiance. Do you understand?”

Amelia couldn’t remain silent any longer. Trembling, she whispered, “What… what do you want me to do?”

Charles smirked, a chilling smile that made Amelia shudder. He stepped closer to her, each stride heavy with purpose.

“You’ll do exactly as I say. And tonight, you’ll learn your first lesson.”

Charles reached out to pull her closer, but instinctively, Amelia stepped back. His hand grabbed her arm firmly, preventing her from escaping. A wave of hopelessness engulfed her, and tears began streaming down her cheeks.

“Please…” she stammered, her voice cracking. “Please don’t do this…”

But Charles was unmoved. He dragged her toward the bed, forcing her to sit down. To Amelia, it felt like her world was collapsing around her.

“This isn’t something you get to choose,” Charles said, his tone unnervingly calm.

Amelia couldn’t endure any more. In a fleeting moment of courage, she struggled, wrenching her arm free and standing up abruptly. But her strength was no match for his. Charles effortlessly pulled her back, his eyes icy and devoid of mercy.

“You’ll learn to accept this,” he declared, each word like an unyielding verdict.

He pushed her down onto the bed, and Amelia felt her heart shatter. She felt utterly powerless, trapped in a situation she couldn’t escape.

. . .

As the faint light of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls, darkness still loomed in Amelia’s heart. She lay curled up on the unfamiliar bed, her body drained and her mind in turmoil. Charles slept soundly on the other side of the room, his rhythmic breathing a constant reminder that her nightmare was far from over.

But Amelia knew if she didn’t act, the nightmare would never end. She resolved: I must escape.

. . .

Amelia sat up quietly, careful not to make any noise. She scanned the room, her eyes searching for a way out. Her gaze landed on the door leading to the hallway. Charles had left the key on the bedside table.

Her heart pounding, Amelia crept toward the table, her bare feet making no sound on the carpeted floor. She carefully picked up the key, holding her breath as it jingled softly. Charles stirred but didn’t wake.

She quickly unlocked the door and slipped out. The hallway was empty, illuminated only by dim wall sconces that cast a cold glow. Amelia didn’t stop. She ran as fast as she could, her feet moving relentlessly, as if the entire world were chasing her.

. . .

Bursting through the inn’s front door, Amelia barely noticed the curious stares of the receptionist. She bolted onto the street, gasping for air, her eyes wide with panic.

And then, she collided with someone.

The man standing before her was tall, in his early thirties, with a composed demeanor and sharp eyes. He wore a crisp suit and carried a leather briefcase. The impact sent Amelia sprawling, but she quickly scrambled to her feet, her terrified gaze meeting his.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice deep and steady, though laced with suspicion.

Amelia didn’t answer. She stepped back, as though he, too, might be a threat. But something in his sincere expression gave her a glimmer of reassurance.

“Please,” she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. “Help me.”

The man studied her for a moment before his eyes shifted toward the inn’s entrance, where a figure was emerging-Charles.

. . .

Charles spotted Amelia and strode toward her, his face dark with anger. “You think you can run away?” he growled, his voice dripping with rage.

The stranger immediately stepped between Amelia and Charles. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his tone calm yet authoritative.

“This is none of your business,” Charles snapped. “She’s mine.”

Amelia clutched the man’s sleeve, her eyes pleading. “Please, don’t let him take me,” she begged, her voice trembling.

The man locked eyes with Charles, his gaze cold and unyielding. “I don’t know what’s happening, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to go with you. You have no right to force her.”

“Stay out of this,” Charles barked, taking a step closer.

“I suggest you leave before I call the police,” the man retorted, his voice firm.

Charles hesitated, clearly unwilling to cause a scene. He glared at Amelia one last time before turning and walking away, muttering curses under his breath.

. . .

As Charles disappeared into the night, Amelia felt a tremendous weight lift off her shoulders. She collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face. The man knelt beside her, his expression softening.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Amelia nodded weakly but could barely find her voice. “Thank you… I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come.”

“No need to thank me. My name’s William,” he said, extending his hand.

Amelia hesitated before taking it, warmth spreading through her. “I’m Amelia.”

“What are you running from, Amelia?” William asked, concern etched across his face.

Amelia hesitated, unsure whether to trust him. But as she looked into his steady, sincere eyes, she decided: This might be my only chance for help.

She began to tell her story, her voice trembling with fear, while William listened intently. His brows furrowed as he learned of Charles’s cruelty.

“You don’t have to go back there,” he said firmly once she finished. “I’ll protect you.”

Amelia gazed at him, a mix of gratitude and doubt in her eyes. Could William truly be her savior, or was he just another man looking to take advantage of her?

But something in his determined expression made her want to believe in him-at least for now.

“Thank you.” She said softly, her voice carrying the weight of her relief.

“We should leave before he comes back,” William said, standing and offering her his hand.

Amelia nodded, following him toward his car parked nearby. This could be the beginning of a new journey-a path to freedom and perhaps a chance at reclaiming her life.