I woke up in silk sheets. No windows. Just soft white light and cameras in every corner.
A golden collar was locked around my neck.
I wasn’t in my room.
The air smelled like leather and something sweet—like roses and smoke. The walls were pale pink, too perfect, like a dollhouse. Like I’d been placed here, arranged.
I sat up slowly, heart pounding. No phone. No clothes. Just a thin lace slip that barely covered anything. No doors either—only a speaker on the wall.
I swallowed.
“Hello?” My voice was barely a whisper. “Is… is anyone there?”
Static. Then:
“Good morning, Delilah.”
I froze.
“You’ll call me Sir from now on.”
A camera above blinked red.
“I chose you because you're perfect,” he continued. “Soft. Fragile. Breakable.”
I stood. “What is this? What do you want from me?”
