Bound By Invisible Chains

Chapter 3

The lock clicked behind him with finality.

Matteo Moretti walked the quiet hallway of his mansion, the image of the bruised, silent girl still burned into his mind. He entered his private office, loosened the collar of his shirt, and sat behind the large dark-wood desk. The city lights glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, but he barely noticed them.

A soft knock came before the door opened.

Ryan stepped inside, tablet in hand.

"Boss... about the girl."

Matteo's dark eyes lifted slowly.

Ryan continued, careful but blunt.

"She doesn't look like she's worth the quarter-million they owed. Thin, quiet, covered in bruises. Why did you take her?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Matteo's gaze hardened. "Watch your tongue."

Ryan immediately lowered his head and bowed. "Apologies, sir."

Silence stretched for a moment. Then Matteo spoke, voice low and measured.

"Thirteen years ago I was drowning. A little girl pulled me out of the water. I never forgot her face... or the faint birthmark on her neck. Tonight I saw that same mark again."

Ryan's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing.

Matteo leaned back in his chair. "The aunt and the stepfather. Shut down every business they have. Every account. Every connection. Make them feel what it's like to have nothing left."

Ryan nodded once. He understood. He always did. Without another word, he turned and left.

A few minutes later Rosa entered.

"Sir. Miss Luciana refused the food."

Matteo's expression didn't change. "Bring it again in the morning. She will eat then."

Rosa inclined her head and disappeared.

Alone, Matteo stared at the dark city beyond the glass.

He remembered a bright-eyed little girl with wet black hair clinging to him, shouting for him to stay awake as she dragged him toward the shore. She had been lively. Loud. Fearless in a way that still surprised him when he thought about it.

The young woman upstairs was none of those things.

Quiet.

Withdrawn.

Covered in the evidence of years he had not been there to stop.

Something cold and dangerous moved through his chest.

He would find out what those thirteen years had done to her.

And he would make sure they never touched her again.

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains of Lucy's room.

She had finished the generous breakfast Rosa brought, the rich food still sitting warmly in her stomach. When the door opened again, Rosa entered with fresh towels and a gentle smile.

"Time to bathe, Miss Luciana."

Lucy's blue eyes widened. "I... I can do it myself."

Rosa shook her head. "The boss ordered that you be taken care of. And with all those bruises, how do you expect to manage alone?"

Lucy's cheeks burned, but she finally nodded.

In the large bathroom, Rosa helped her out of the borrowed nightclothes and into the warm water. Lucy kept her arms crossed over her chest, eyes fixed on the tiles, embarrassment crawling over every inch of her skin. No one had bathed her in as long as she could remember.

Rosa's voice softened. "You're younger than my own daughter. There's no need to be so tense."

Lucy only nodded, unable to speak.

When the bath was finished, Rosa carefully dried her and began treating every bruise and cut. The antiseptic stung.

Lucy flinched but stayed silent, biting the inside of her cheek.

Why is she being kind to me?

The thought circled endlessly in Lucy's mind.

I was sold. I expected coldness. Orders. Maybe worse. Not this. Not gentle hands and soft words. I don't understand it... and that frightens me more than anything.

Once the wounds were cleaned and bandaged, Rosa led her to the wardrobe.

Rows of dresses in soft fabrics hung neatly - every one tailored to her exact measurements. They were elegant, well-cut, designed to follow the natural curves of her body without being vulgar.

Lucy hesitated.

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "Or would you prefer to wear one of the boss's shirts instead?"

Lucy quickly reached for a simple, soft cream dress that hugged her waist and fell neatly to her knees. Rosa helped her into it, then stepped back to look at her with a mixture of pity and quiet approval.

"Much better."

Then Rosa placed a tray of fresh breakfast into Lucy's hands.

"Take this to Mr. Moretti."

Lucy's stomach dropped. "N-no... I don't want to-"

"You're not here for nothing," Rosa said firmly. "Start moving."

Lucy's shoulders sagged. She took a shaky breath, gripped the tray, and stepped into the hallway.

Just do this. I'm strong. I can do this. What's the worst that can happen? Nothing.

Be brave... be brave.

She stopped in front of the office door, heart hammering, and knocked.

"Come in."

Matteo's voice was calm, controlled.

Lucy pushed the door open and stepped inside, head lowered, steps slow and careful. It was Saturday. Matteo sat behind his desk in a black long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms, working through a stack of papers.

When he looked up, one dark eyebrow lifted.

She looked different. Clean. The bruises carefully treated.

The soft dress fitting her the way it was meant to. Something unreadable passed through his eyes.

"Walk faster."

Lucy hesitated, then forced her feet to move more quickly. She set the tray carefully on the edge of the desk, voice soft and slightly unsteady.

"H-here... your breakfast."

For a brief second their eyes met - her blue ones wide and nervous, his black ones steady and intense. She quickly looked away and turned to leave.

"Wait."

The single word stopped her cold.

"I didn't tell you to go yet."

Lucy took a quiet breath in and out, then turned back. "Yes? Anything else?"

Matteo studied her for a long moment.

"Eat with me."

"No, thank you. I've already eaten."

He didn't argue. He simply said, "Sit."

It was not a request.

Lucy slowly lowered herself onto the edge of the chair across from him. Matteo began eating in silence, his gaze never leaving her. The air between them felt thick, charged.

After several minutes he spoke again, voice low.

"You look better without the dirt and bruises."

Heat rose to Lucy's cheeks. She kept her eyes on her hands, not knowing what to say.

Matteo continued, almost casually, "From now on, bring me breakfast every morning. And you will eat with me. Understood?"

She nodded once, still looking down.

He reached across the desk. Two fingers gently tilted her chin upward until she had no choice but to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed lightly near the faint birthmark on the side of her neck - the same mark he had recognized the night before.

"Good girl," he murmured.

The words settled over her like a strange, heavy warmth.

He released her after a moment longer than necessary.

"You may go."

Lucy rose on slightly unsteady legs and left the office, the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin.

Back in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her hands.

She had expected a cage.

She had not expected the cage to feel, for even a second, almost like safety.

And that terrified her more than anything else.