OWNED BY MR. MANRIQUIZ [THAT RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE]

CHAPTER 10

The moment I blinked my eyes open, I was met with a sting of white light slipping through sheer curtains. My head throbbed like it had fought a battle against bricks, and everything around me was eerily quiet. No horns, no buzz of the city. Just… silence.

I tried to move, but a sharp ache sliced down my shoulder, making me wince. I let out a shaky breath and slowly sat up, pressing my palm against the mattress for balance. The sheets were unfamiliar. Too soft. Too smooth. Too clean. This wasn’t my bed. Not even close.

My heart thudded in my chest as I scanned the room. It wasn’t a hospital. No beeping machines. No IV. No antiseptic scent. Instead, I was in what looked like a guest room in a luxurious private villa—walls in muted beige, the ceiling high and painted with subtle gold accents, and the curtains made from heavy velvet. A faint scent of lavender clung to the air.

“What… the hell?” I mumbled under my breath.

I looked down at myself. My arms had bruises. Scratches. Bandages wrapped around my right wrist. There was a small adhesive pad on my temple, and my knee stung under the blanket. I’d definitely been in an accident.

And then, it hit me—

The club.

The drinks.

The road.

The crash.

I closed my eyes tight, my chest rising and falling faster than it should. I remembered the screech of tires, the blinding lights of another car, the deafening crunch of metal against metal. After that—nothing.

So why wasn’t I in a hospital?

“Hello?” My voice was hoarse, dry. I cleared my throat and tried again, louder this time. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No answer.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold floor kissed the soles of my feet, grounding me. My knees wobbled a little, but I forced myself to stand. A mirror near the armoire caught my reflection, and I stopped.

My hair was tangled, matted at the back. A thin line of a scratch ran across my cheekbone, but my eyes—they looked different. Lost. Tired. Pained.

I turned my head slowly, surveying the rest of the room. There was a polished wooden desk, a modern chandelier overhead, and a painting of a golden meadow on one wall. The kind of expensive taste you’d only see in hotel brochures or mansions from magazine spreads.

None of this made sense.

Who brought me here?

I walked slowly toward the door. Every step felt like I was carrying the weight of everything I tried to forget: the fight with Troy, the breakup, the heartbreak, and my own shame for letting it all drive me to recklessness.

I touched the doorknob.

Locked.

Seriously?

A jolt of panic surged through me. I knocked. “Hey—hello? Can someone let me out?”

Still nothing.

I backed away from the door and sank onto the armchair nearby, trying to piece things together. If I wasn’t in a hospital, and this wasn’t my house… then this had to be someone else’s property. But who would take me in without calling the authorities?

Unless… they didn’t want the authorities involved.

My mind raced with possibilities. What if I hit someone? What if there was more to the crash than I remembered? My body began to tremble—not just from fear but from the weight of not knowing.

And then another thought crossed my mind, darker than the rest.

What if I was being hidden?

I clutched the ends of the armrest tightly, trying to slow my breathing. I had no phone. No clue where I was. No familiar voice to calm me down.

Was it night or morning? Was I still in Linus City?

I stood up again, walking toward the window this time. I tugged at the heavy curtains.

And what I saw stunned me.

Beyond the glass was an immaculately landscaped garden. Sculpted bushes, a marble fountain in the center, and tall trees lining a path that led somewhere I couldn’t see. It was too beautiful. Too well-maintained.

A mansion?

This wasn’t just some stranger’s home. Whoever brought me here had money.

And power.

The realization sank in deeper now.

Who was it? And more importantly—why?

A knock startled me, and I turned my head sharply. But it wasn’t at the door—it was soft. From somewhere outside, maybe a hallway. Faint footsteps followed, fading just as quickly as they appeared.

Someone was out there.

But they weren’t ready to talk to me yet.

I stepped away from the window, heart still pounding, and sat back down on the bed. My head leaned back against the headboard as I stared at the ceiling.

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

But if one thing was clear—it was that something about this wasn’t normal.

And I needed to find out exactly where I was…

And what came next.

Just then.

My heart nearly stopped when the door creaked open.

I held my breath, half expecting a nurse… maybe a stranger… maybe someone with answers. But the last person I imagined to see was the one standing in front of me.

“Mr. Manriquiz?” I whispered, barely audible.

He looked different. Not the dashing, composed man in suits I used to see from afar. His hair was tousled, eyes sunken like he hadn't slept in days, and his presence felt... heavy. But a strange kind of relief filled my chest at the sight of him. He was familiar. He was someone I knew.

“You’re here,” I said again, this time with a shaky smile. “Thank God... I thought I was alone…”

But the warmth I expected never came.

His jaw clenched. His steps were slow but deliberate. And then, crack!

His hand landed across my face.

I gasped, holding my cheek as tears instantly welled in my eyes—not just from the pain, but from the shock. What just happened?

“You ruined my life!” he bellowed. “You ruined everything, Callie Torres!”

My lips trembled. “W–what are you saying?”

He was breathing heavily now, fists balled tightly at his sides. There was pain in his eyes. Fury. Bitterness.

“I gave you everything,” he said through gritted teeth. “Trust. Opportunity. Respect. And what did you do? You disappointed me.”

“I don’t understand—”

“No. You don’t. Because you were too busy chasing dreams, being the perfect girlfriend, the perfect little designer, unaware that every step you took crushed the people who believed in you.”

Tears blurred my vision. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might collapse. “I never meant to hurt anyone…” I managed to say. “I swear I didn’t mean—”

He laughed. Bitterly. “That’s the problem. You don’t mean to hurt people, and yet you do.”

I backed away slowly until my legs hit the edge of the unfamiliar bed. My knees buckled and I sat down, still cradling my face.

His words kept ringing in my ears.

Now, I must take what you took from me.

"What… what do you mean by that?” I asked, voice trembling. “Take what?”

He stared at me for a long time. And that silence was louder than any scream. It swallowed the room. It made my skin crawl.

Then he turned around, walked to the door, and before he stepped out, he looked back at me one last time.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

The door slammed shut.

And just like that, I was alone again.

But this time, it wasn’t just confusion I felt. It was fear.

Real, paralyzing fear.

I pressed my palms together tightly, trying to calm my shaking breath. My cheeks still burned from the slap. My mind was racing—what did he mean? What exactly had I done to him? Why was I here?

I curled up on the bed, knees to chest, trying to make sense of the world.

And for the first time since the accident, since the breakup, since everything crumbled—I cried. Loudly. Without holding back.