CHAPTER 7. WHAT SLAVE
1249 Words
Evadne
Her warning stuck. I managed to pull myself together after that, but the questions still gnawed at me—especially now that a week had passed.
“Are… Are you aware of my family’s condition?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I turned toward Lissa. My throat tightened. I already knew they were gone. I just couldn’t bring myself to believe that their bodies had been burnt beyond recognition. That detail alone would kill me.
Throughout the ride, after the moment Lissa told me I was no longer in New York, I had sat in silence, more silent than I’ve ever been in my entire life. The disbelief clawed at my chest, so suffocating I couldn’t even close my eyes to escape it.
Questions upon questions consumed me. I needed answers, desperately. I had to ask Lissa. Were my family laid to rest? Was anyone searching for me? Was there an investigation underway to uncover who had taken my family from me, leaving me completely alone in this world?
The house had been on fire when I passed out. With my family inside.
The neighbors must have called the cops. Someone must’ve seen something.
They have to know I wasn’t among the dead… right?
Or were their bodies burned so badly, no one could tell who was who?
Lissa paused on her laptop. Her fingers hovered for a second, then began typing again before turning the screen toward me.
My eyes locked on the news headline.
BREAKING: Tragedy Strikes—Respected Accountant and Family Found Dead in House Fire
My family had been found dead. Burnt. Unrecognizable. Just as I had feared.
They called it an electricity outbreak. Not a murder. Not the shooting I witnessed. Not the blood I saw pooling on the floor. Just a tragic fire that wiped out four lives.
Tears blurred my vision. I was already crying, even before the confirmation sank in fully. They didn't search for me. Didn't investigate the truth. They buried the night of the shooting under a headline about an electrical fire, erasing every trace of what really happened.
Like we were just another statistic in a tragic fire that claimed four lives on the night of their first daughter’s 24th birthday.
I had expected to see my face listed as missing.
Not paraded across the screen as dead.
“Why… I’m not dea—”
“To the world, you are,” Lissa said flatly, cutting me off. Her voice held no warmth. “So you need to get any ideas of being found or rescued out of your head. Your new life starts with Mietitore… and it ends with him.”
I stared at her in disbelief, struggling to make sense of what she was saying. What exactly was she trying to get at?
Before I could get a word out, the driver’s voice cut through the silence.
“We’re here.”
The words made me jolt against the seat just as the car rolled past the towering gates of a vast, palatial estate.
I stared hard at her as the car stopped. Without delay, one of the men opened the door for Lissa and me. She handed the laptop she’d been working on to the man at the door, like a queen delegating a task she couldn’t be bothered with.
“Mietitore said to be ready in an hour and thirty minutes, ma’am,” the man said with a sharp nod.
Lissa returned the gesture and flicked her head toward me. A silent order I’d quickly come to recognize.
She didn’t need to speak for me to understand anymore. That one nod meant: Move.
I dragged my feet toward her, every step screaming exhaustion, but I followed her into the house.
“What did you mean…” I attempted a question the moment I reached her side but she glared at me.
“I'm not going to reply to any of your questions again. Whatever you need to know, ask Mietitore himself.”
“But…”
She raised her hands up, shutting me off with a final warning.
I was quiet for some minutes, wiping my teary eyes off as I walked with her. I'm tired, dog tired but then I wasn't about to go into some mansion without asking.
I have always been a curious one.
“Where… where is this place?” I asked, my voice hoarse and raw.
I licked my cracked lips, desperate to moisten them. My mouth was bone-dry, and the simple act made me realize how thirsty I was. My throat felt like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper. I haven’t eaten. I haven't drank anything. Not even once. How was I still alive?
Whatever Dimitri injected you with must have been strong…
“This is Mietitore’s private villa here in Russia,” she answered casually as we entered the marble-floored foyer and stepped into the waiting elevator.
“The Mafia…” I whispered. I just couldn't help it. “Did the Mafia kill my family?”
I didn’t plan to ask, but the words tore out of me before I could stop them. I knew it was Dimitri—I’d recognize that voice anywhere. But Dimitri wasn’t acting alone. Someone had given him the order. Mietitore’s words back in that Auction room… how he mentioned my father, how he accused Dad of hiding me. It wasn’t random.
And it would kill me if he was. I had begged my family murderer to buy me.
“The Mafia?” Lissa repeated, looking almost amused.
I narrowed my eyes at her. Was she seriously doing this now? A few minutes ago, she looked at me with disdain when she ordered that I mustn't call him Mietitore. Now, she’s acting like she has no clue what I’m talking about?
“Your Mietitore,” I corrected coldly.
She pressed the button for the third floor and then glanced at me. “To you, he is Master.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Why? Because I’m his property now?”
She didn’t blink. “Pretty much. Don’t forget the slave part too.”
The elevator dinged. She stepped out, her heels clicking sharply against the pristine floor. I followed, hesitant, trailing behind her through a hallway so elegant, so polished, it could’ve passed for a suite in a luxury hotel.
But the storm boiling in my chest didn’t give me the luxury to appreciate any of it.
“You called me a ‘Bidder slave’ earlier,” I snapped, my voice trembling. “What kind of slave, huh? A s*x slave?”
She didn’t stop walking. “I can’t understand you,” she said, amused. “You’re so conflicted, you have no idea which emotion you want to cling to.”
She opened a door, then turned to face me. “Go in. While you're being properly prepared, take a moment to decide. Anger? Sadness? Frustration?” She tilted her head slightly. “Feel them one at a time… don’t rush them all at once.”
Her words hit me, and for many reasons, it only made me angrier. I stared at her, tears pricking the corners of my eyes again, hot and unwanted.
“You’re in no position to advise me on—”
She raised a hand, silencing me mid-sentence. Cold and final.
“And as for what kind of slave you are…” Her gaze held mine. “That’s for your Master to decide.”
- Writer
