Shopia’s footsteps echoed softly in the marble corridor—too luxurious to ever belong to the life she used to know. Every detail of the penthouse—the crystal chandelier, the plush carpet, the faint scent of white roses—felt like another world. A world she once dreamed of, but never touched.
The penthouse door opened slowly. Behind it stood Davian, wearing a black shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His gaze was calm, magnetic, yet held something unreadable.
“Come in,” he said.
Shopia stepped inside. Her heart pounded erratically. Fear lingered in her chest, but so did a hunger—not for food, but for freedom, for control over her own life.
Davian led her into the spacious living room. The city lights poured in through floor-to-ceiling glass walls.
“Drink?” he asked, pouring red wine into t
