Chapter Two – Property or Prisoner
629 Words
He hadn’t bought her.
That thought echoed violently in Alessia’s mind as the world around her darkened.
He hadn’t just bought her.
He’d taken her—like some priceless object pulled from a shelf.
The roar of voices, the auction lights, the weight of that man’s stare… it all blurred.
Her knees buckled.
And then—nothing.
—
She woke to silence.
Slowly, her lashes lifted. The room was dim and glowing, cast in soft amber light from a chandelier above. Her body sank into sheets far too luxurious, and a faint scent of leather and cedar filled the air.
This wasn’t her room.
Panic surged through her chest. She sat up, only to realize she was no longer in the crimson dress from the auction. A silken nightgown clung to her skin—smooth, foreign.
Her heart thudded painfully.
Someone had changed her.
She threw the covers back and swung her legs over the bed. The marble beneath her feet was cold, grounding her in a cruel kind of reality.
She didn’t know where she was.
But she knew whose house this was.
Lorenzo De Luca.
Even just thinking the name made her stomach clench.
She looked around. The room was rich—absurdly so. Gold accents, velvet drapes, carved furniture, a floor-to-ceiling window with no clear escape. It was the kind of place people visited in magazines.
But for Alessia… it was a cage.
The moment she reached for the door handle, it turned without resistance. Open.
Not locked?
Cautiously, she stepped into a long hallway.
Silence.
Her bare feet padded across the marble, breath trembling in her throat. As she turned a corner, a tall mirror caught her reflection. She barely recognized herself—face pale, eyes wide, framed in chaos.
And then, footsteps.
Slow, precise, approaching.
She backed away instinctively—too late.
He was already there.
Lorenzo De Luca filled the hallway like a storm cloud in a cathedral—dark, cold, and impossibly composed. Dressed in black slacks and a charcoal dress shirt with the top buttons open, he looked like sin tailored in silk.
His eyes met hers. No surprise. No smile. Just that unreadable stillness.
“You’re awake,” he said flatly.
Alessia straightened her spine. “Where am I?”
“My estate.”
“Why?”
“You fainted.”
“I didn’t ask if I fainted. I asked why I’m here.”
He stepped closer.
“You really want the answer, cara mia?” he asked, voice low.
She nodded, defiant despite the tremble in her limbs.
Lorenzo studied her for a moment. Like she was some curious art piece he hadn't decided how to frame yet.
“You’re here,” he finally said, “because I don’t lose things I’ve already claimed.”
Alessia’s stomach twisted.
“I’m not a thing.”
A faint smirk ghosted across his face. “Then stop standing like one.”
She didn’t respond.
He gestured to the hallway behind him. “Dinner is in twenty minutes. Don’t make me send someone to get you.”
“I’m not eating with you.”
“Then starve,” he said, turning his back on her. “Just know you’ll be watched either way.”
As he disappeared down the hallway, Alessia stood frozen. Her fists clenched.
She wasn’t going to cry.
Not here.
Not now.
But as the silence closed in again, she realized something even more terrifying than the fact that she’d been taken:
No one was coming to save her.
Not her family. Not the guards.
Not even the people who let it happen.
Because in this world—the one she was born into but never truly understood—power had a price.
And right now… she was the payment.
- Writer
