The Billionaire's Redeemed Girl

CHAPTER SIX

Diya held the wooden bird in her palms long after Jared left. It sat like a secret between her fingers—something small and warm and alive in a world that had tried to drain all color from her.

She hadn’t moved from the bench.

The sun was beginning to set, casting a dusky glow over the courtyard. The other girls were being herded in for dinner, but no one called to her. Maybe they sensed something had shifted.

Or maybe no one cared.

Roshni finally approached, brushing her frizzy hair behind her ears. “You okay?”

Diya didn’t answer at first. Then she opened her hand and showed her the bird.

Roshni’s eyes widened. “Did he give you that?”

Diya nodded.

“And he didn’t try to touch you?”

“No. Not this time.”

Roshni stared at her, then sat down beside her. “That’s… weird.”

“Why?”

“Because most of the men who come back? They don’t bring gifts. They bring cuffs. Or ropes. Or worse.”

Diya hugged the bird to her chest. “He’s not like the others.”

“Are you sure?” Roshni whispered.

Diya didn’t answer. Because she wasn’t sure.

Not yet.

---

Later that night, back in the sleeping quarters, Diya couldn’t close her eyes.

The others were already drifting off, soft snores and quiet sobs mixing in the stale air, but Diya lay curled on her side, staring at the wall.

She still felt his eyes. Jared’s. The way they looked at her—not with hunger or greed, but something else.

Guilt.

Regret.

Longing.

She remembered the way his hands shook when he gave her the carving. The way he sat beside her without trying to touch her. The way he didn’t demand anything.

It didn’t make what he’d done go away.

But it complicated things.

She clutched the bird tighter and whispered to the darkness, “Why did you come back?”

---

The next day, Srijana summoned her.

She stood at the top of the stairs, a wine glass in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

Diya climbed slowly, heart pounding. Roshni caught her hand before she reached the top step.

“Be careful,” she whispered. “She doesn’t like it when we get too much attention.”

Diya nodded and went in.

Srijana didn’t smile. She circled Diya like a hawk, taking slow drags of her cigarette.

“Well,” she said finally, “you’ve become quite the little mystery.”

Diya stood still.

“Men don’t usually come back unless they’re obsessed,” Srijana continued. “And that man? He’s very obsessed.”

“I didn’t ask him to come back,” Diya said quietly.

Srijana smirked. “Oh, I know. But you don’t have to ask. Sometimes, all it takes is a pretty face and a broken soul.”

She stepped closer and pinched Diya’s chin, tilting her face. “He sees something in you. Maybe it’s that you don’t beg. Or maybe it’s your eyes. Men are stupid like that.”

“I don’t want him.”

“Of course you don’t. But you will play nice. You’ll smile. You’ll listen. You’ll be his little secret escape from his clean, billionaire life.”

Diya yanked her face away.

Srijana’s smile vanished.

“Careful, girl,” she said coolly. “You don’t get to have preferences here.”

“I’m not going to seduce him for you.”

“You already have,” Srijana said, turning away. “Whether you meant to or not.”

Diya stood frozen as the door shut behind her.

---

That evening, she found herself staring at the bird again.

Not because it was pretty.

But because it made her feel… remembered.

And that was dangerous.

She didn’t want to feel anything here. Not pity. Not hope. Not connection.

But Jared had touched something in her. Not with his hands—but with his words. His eyes. His brokenness.

She knew brokenness too well.

And for some reason, that scared her more than all the guards, the clients, or even Srijana.

Because it meant she was starting to care.

And in this place?

Caring got you killed.

Diya clutched the small wooden bird to her chest long after Jared left.

It was the first thing she’d been given that wasn’t meant to hurt her or shame her. Just a carved shape. Useless, really—but it wasn’t meant to be useful. It was meant to be... hers.

She hadn’t slept the night before, still shaken from what might have happened if Jared hadn’t stopped himself. But today, he had looked sober. Human. And worse—he had looked sorry.

That scared her more than anything.

She didn’t want to trust a man again. But she had felt something stir inside her when he said he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Something that felt dangerously close to hope.

She gripped the bird tighter, as if holding it too loosely would make the hope vanish.