CHAPTER 16
1531 Words
I couldn't hide my frustrations and fear after hearing them.
Not even for a second.
I just sat there on the cold floor, knees to my chest, staring at the locked door like it was waiting to swallow me whole. My heart wouldn’t calm down. My brain kept replaying every word they said.
Slave.
Assistant.
Slow suffering.
They wanted me alive—just long enough to destroy me. Bit by bit. Day by day.
By the time sunlight began to slip in through the narrow window, I was still in the same spot. My eyes burned from crying, my throat hurt, and my limbs felt heavy, numb, useless.
I didn’t even notice the knob turning until it clicked.
My body jolted, breath freezing.
Someone stepped in. Not Susan.
A tall man in a black coat. Stoic. Expressionless. A bodyguard I’d seen once before, standing beside Mr. Manriquiz during a press conference months ago.
“Miss Torres,” he said flatly, like my name didn’t mean anything. “You are needed.”
Needed.
The word disgusted me.
“For what?” I asked, my voice dry, weak. “Where are we going?”
He didn’t answer. He just stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and pulled me up.
Not gently.
Like I was something to transport. A thing. A package. Not a person.
I tried to stand on my own, but my knees were shaking. I hadn’t eaten properly in days. Sleep? Forget it. My body was weak. My mind was worse.
When we reached the hallway, I blinked.
I hadn’t seen it since… I woke up here.
The long corridor was lined with expensive paintings and gold accents—typical rich-person interior. Too perfect. Too shiny. Too cold.
Somewhere down the hall, I heard voices.
One of them was Mrs. Cherry Bellington.
The other…
Lexi.
In her wheelchair.
Waiting.
Oh God.
They brought me to a sitting room—not a fancy ballroom or office, but something smaller. Intimate. Like the kind of place a family might gather for tea.
Except there was no warmth here.
Lexi sat near the window, blanket covering where her legs should’ve been. Her hair was brushed perfectly, makeup flawless—but her eyes…
They were dead.
Emotionless.
And somehow still burning with hate.
Mrs. Cherry stood beside her, sipping tea like this was just another morning. Like she wasn’t planning to ruin my life completely.
And across the room, leaning against a desk with arms crossed?
Darious Manriquiz.
The man who once looked at me with admiration and trust.
Now he stared at me like I was rotting.
The bodyguard pushed me forward, and I tried to stand straight even though I was shaking.
No one spoke at first.
They just stared.
Waiting.
Judging.
Measuring how broken I was.
Finally, Mrs. Cherry set her teacup down.
“Well,” she said lightly, “look at you. Still alive.”
The way she said it… made it sound like a mistake.
Lexi rolled her eyes. “Mom, can we not pretend she’s some lost puppy? She’s trash. Just say what we came to say.”
My throat tightened. I didn’t speak.
I couldn’t.
Mrs. Cherry stepped closer, eyes narrowing as she examined me like a specimen.
“So, Callie,” she began, “we've been thinking. Killing you wouldn’t bring Lexi’s legs back. It wouldn’t give Darious his wedding. It wouldn’t fix the brand damage, or the shame, or the grief.”
My chest stung. Shame twisted in my gut.
She continued, voice almost sweet: “But punishment isn’t just about ending something. Sometimes it’s about lasting.”
Lexi let out a bitter laugh. “And you will last.”
I swallowed hard. “W-What do you want from me?”
Darious finally spoke. His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous.
“You destroyed our future. Now we own yours.”
I felt my knees weaken.
Mrs. Cherry took one step closer. “You are going to serve Lexi. Personally. Every day. Every hour. Until she says otherwise.”
Lexi leaned back, smirking. “You’ll push my chair. Wash my clothes. Hold my bags. Fix my makeup. Fetch whatever I want. You’ll be the reason I can live even without legs.”
“And if I say no?” I whispered.
Mrs. Cherry didn’t hesitate.
“You stay locked in that room forever. No sunlight. No freedom. No identity. No life. We will erase you.”
Darious added, “And believe me—we can.”
I stared at him. The same man who once believed in my work. Who once praised my designs. Who defended me in front of political crowds.
Now he wanted me erased.
Lexi was staring too—like she was waiting for me to crack.
Break.
Beg.
Something inside me trembled.
But something else… hardened.
“I’ll do it,” I said quietly.
Lexi raised a brow. “Just like that?”
“Aren’t you even going to cry?” Mrs. Cherry asked, voice almost disappointed.
“I already did,” I whispered. “All night.”
There was a silence.
A strange one.
Like they expected me to scream. Fight. Collapse.
But I didn't.
Because what was left to fight with?
Mrs. Cherry smiled slowly. “Good. We’ll have the papers prepared. You will sign them. Legally, you’ll be bound under work and confidentiality agreements. There will be consequences if you run.”
“I’m not running,” I said.
Even if a small part of me wished I could.
Lexi tilted her head. “You don’t get to be brave now, Callie.”
I met her eyes.
“No,” I said softly. “This isn’t bravery.”
“This is survival.”
She blinked—caught off guard for a second.
Mrs. Cherry clapped her hands once. “Then it’s settled. Tomorrow, you begin.”
Darious turned away, already done with me.
Lexi wheeled herself closer—so close I could smell her perfume.
“Get ready,” she whispered. “Because I’m going to break you slowly. And I want you awake for all of it.”
Then she rolled away.
Mrs. Cherry followed.
Darious didn’t spare me a glance.
The bodyguard grabbed my arm again, pulling me back toward the hallway.
Back to the room.
Back to captivity.
But as the door slammed shut behind me, I sank to the floor again.
Not crying this time.
Not breaking.
Just breathing, chest heavy—and whispering to myself:
One day… I’ll leave this place.
On my terms.
And I’ll rebuild everything they burned.
The next morning came too fast.
I barely slept—not because I was afraid of what would happen, but because I already knew it. I just didn’t know how badly it would hurt.
Susan came in looking uneasy, carrying a tray with breakfast I couldn’t force myself to touch.
“They want you in the study,” she whispered. “Paperwork.”
Paperwork.
The word made me feel sick.
This isn’t a job offer.
This is a sentence.
When I stepped inside the Manriquiz study, the room was cold and classy, filled with leather, mahogany, expensive books, and this suffocating sense of power.
Mr. Manriquiz was already there, sitting behind the desk, signing something that probably changed someone’s fate—and he didn’t even blink while doing it.
Mrs. Cherry Bellington stood nearby, arms crossed. Lexi sat in her wheelchair, tapping a pen against the tray in front of her.
Waiting.
Like a queen waiting to see her prisoner bow.
“Sit,” Darious said.
No emotion. Not even hatred. Just that cold, blank tone of someone who had already decided what I was worth.
Which was nothing.
I sat.
A thick set of documents was placed in front of me by a lawyer wearing a three-piece suit, gold watch—and a look that said he’d rather step on me than speak to me.
“This,” he began, sliding the papers over, “is a legal agreement between Miss Callie Torres and the Bellington-Manriquiz estate.”
Estate.
I almost laughed.
This wasn’t an estate.
This was a kingdom.
And I was the peasant being told to kneel or die.
He flipped to the first page.
SERVICE CONTRACT.
Term: Undisclosed.
Location: Confined to employer’s premises.
Work duties: Absolute compliance to Lexi Bellington’s needs, demands, and instructions.
It went on and on, in legal terms that tasted like poison.
Section 3: Mobility Restriction.
Miss Torres is prohibited from leaving the estate grounds under any circumstance.
Section 4: Legal Silence.
Miss Torres is prohibited from public disclosure, statements, interviews, or written accounts regarding her condition, relationship with the estate, or past incidents.
Section 5: Compliance.
Any defiance, refusal, sabotage, or attempt to escape will...
The next paragraph blurred.
My eyes burned.
The lawyer turned another page.
“Now this,” he said, “is important.”
There was a final clause, bold, centered, and somehow louder than every other word on the page:
If Miss Torres attempts to escape, flee jurisdiction, or break confidentiality—
All current assets, properties, royalties, business holdings, intellectual designs, and financial accounts will be legally and permanently transferred to Darious Manriquiz.
- Writer
