Born To Be Your Slave

Their Laughter

The chandelier above the dining table glowed with a cold brilliance, its crystal teardrops scattering fractured light across the polished marble floor. Yet, despite the grandeur, the room felt hollow, like a stage where every actor had forgotten their lines.

Laura Simon sat at the far end of the table, her fingers brushing nervously against the smooth rim of her glass. She barely tasted the food in front of her. Her stepmother’s voice, sharp and deliberate, had already drained the evening of any appetite she might have had.

Rebecca Simon was elegance embodied—perfectly styled hair swept into a gleaming knot, ruby earrings dangling with deliberate sophistication. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was the kind of beauty that intimidated rather than comforted. Next to her, Tessy, Laura’s stepsister, giggled softly, her laughter a mocking echo of her mother’s.

“You must understand, Tessy,” Rebecca was saying, “men of true power don’t waste their time with ordinary girls. They seek someone polished, refined, capable of matching their world. Someone… like you.”

Her gaze flicked, cold and dismissive, toward Laura. It was subtle, but the message was unmistakable.

Laura kept her eyes lowered, her pulse thudding in her throat. She had grown used to these small cruelties, words wrapped in velvet but meant to cut. She told herself she didn’t care, that their opinions no longer had the power to wound her. But a part of her—deep, vulnerable—still longed for kindness, for belonging.

Her father, Mr. Simon, sat at the head of the table, distracted as always. His fork moved mechanically, his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. The empire he built consumed him, and while Laura still loved him, she knew she had lost him long ago to boardrooms and business trips.

“Frank Thompson,” Rebecca said suddenly, her voice taking on a note of reverence. “The richest man in the country. He’s young, commanding, and unmarried. Imagine what life would be like, Tessy, if you caught his attention.”

Tessy’s eyes sparkled with greed. “I’ve seen him in magazines, Mama. He’s… magnificent. And his empire—just imagine the doors it could open.”

Laura’s fork stilled. She had heard of Frank Thompson, of course. Everyone had. His name was spoken with awe, his life dissected in glossy publications. He was a man who could summon governments with a phone call, who could silence rivals with a single word. Yet, despite his wealth, rumors whispered of a loneliness surrounding him, of a man who trusted no one.

Laura’s heart gave a strange, unsteady beat. She had no place in such conversations, and yet the sound of his name sent something stirring through her—something she couldn’t quite name.

Rebecca leaned back, eyes gleaming. “Tessy, you must prepare. Men like Frank do not fall for silly girls. You’ll need grace, poise, intelligence. Every detail must be flawless.”

“And Laura?” Tessy asked with a mocking tilt of her head. “Shouldn’t she try too?”

The laughter that followed was soft, cruel, and suffocating. Laura forced a smile, though her throat ached with unspoken words. She rose from the table, murmuring an excuse. The walls of the mansion seemed to close in around her as she hurried upstairs, the echo of her steps her only company.

In her room, Laura pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window. The city stretched below, its lights glittering like a thousand promises. Somewhere beyond those towers, Frank Thompson lived his untouchable life, a man worshipped by strangers and envied by rivals.

Laura whispered to herself, almost ashamed of the thought: What would it feel like to be seen by someone like him—not as a pawn, not as a burden, but as someone worthy of love?

She closed her eyes, unaware that fate was already weaving its threads, pulling her life toward his in ways neither could escape.