HIS

Chapter Two

A month had passed since my encounter with the stranger outside the bookstore.

I was in class when a message from my dad lit up my phone: Come home now.

Weird. My dad never wanted me home. He could barely stand my presence—so why call me?

I got permission from the dean, grabbed a cab, and found myself staring at the apartment building I hadn’t stepped into for two years.

Memories I’d buried clawed their way back to the surface.

I took a deep breath, walked up to the door, and pressed the bell.

It swung open to reveal my mother. Well… the woman who gave birth to me.

“A-Abigail,” she said softly.

My chest tightened at the sound of my name in her voice, but I shoved it down.

“Is Dad home?” I asked flatly.

Pain flickered in her eyes, but she nodded.

I brushed past her into the house that had given me more scars than comfort.

Footsteps sounded behind me. My dad appeared, grinning.

“My dear daughter, how have you been?” he asked cheerfully.

Every nerve in my body told me something was off.

“Have a seat,” he said.

I stayed standing. “You wanted to see me.”

“Oh, come on, Abby. Can’t I invite my daughter for lunch?”

“Lunch?” My brow furrowed.

“Yes. Let’s move past all the… bad blood between us.”

Bad blood? That was one hell of an understatement.

He led me to the dining room, where Mom set down plates and drinks.

“I realized having a strained relationship with my child isn’t right. I want us to fix it,” he said.

Mom kept her head down, as always.

“Why don’t we continue this after eating?” Dad suggested.

The food looked fine, smelled fine—but his smile was too sharp.

“You're seriously not expecting us to poison you, are you?” Dad laughed lightly "Eat, Abby"

I hesitated, then scooped a spoonful of rice.

“Your mom made it especially for you,” he added.

I glanced at her. She avoided my gaze.

I took another bite.

And then—

The edges of my vision blurred. The room suddenly felt warmer.

A dull ache bloomed behind my eyes.

"Abigail?," Dad's voice suddenly sounded distant.

My stomach twisted. Something felt wrong.

The edges of my vision blurred.

“Forgive me, dear one...."

I shot to my feet, stumbling toward the door. The floor tilted. My chest felt heavy.

Get out. Now.

My fingers brushed the door knob.

Just one more step.

My knees buckled before I could reach it.

“She’s ready,” Dad said, and darkness swallowed me.

---

I woke to the faint scent of expensive cologne. My head throbbed as I forced my eyelids open.

An unfamiliar ceiling stretched above me.

Silk sheets. Massive chandelier.

My phone...gone.

"You're awake"

The voice came from the shadows—deep, rough, commanding.

I turned toward it.

A man stepped out of the shadows.

Tall. Broad shoulders and impeccably dressed.

“Who are you?” I demanded, as I ignored the headache and sat up.

“It hurts me that you don’t remember me, Tesoro,” he said, the foreign word rolling off his tongue.

Something about him was familiar, but my drugged brain was slow to connect the dots.

“Why am I here? How do you know me?”

He chuckled—low and rich, the sound making heat curl low in my stomach against my will.

“You’re curious,” he said, pouring something into a glass.

“You’d better let me go, or the cops—”

He turned, steel-grey eyes catching what little light there was. His mouth curved.

“I am the law, sweetheart.”

A knock at the door.

“Boss, your attention is needed,” a bulky man said.

Boss.

He set down his glass and moved to the door. “I told you I found something,” he said before leaving.

The silence was heavier than before.

The door opened again—two women stepped in. Identical. Blonde hair in tight buns. Faces blank as stone.

“Good evening, Mistress. We’ll be your personal maids,” they said together.

Creepy.

“Then help me get out of this hellhole.”

They didn’t answer.

“We’re here to prepare you for this evening,” the taller one finally said.

“This evening?”

“You’ll be having dinner with the Master.”

They bathed me in rose-scented water, dressed me in a knee-length black dress that hugged my waist, trimmed in delicate lace. My hair was styled in soft waves, a few strands framing my face. Black stilettos completed the look.

When I saw myself in the mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.

“The Master is waiting downstairs,” one said.

---

The dining room was warm light and quiet elegance—dark wood floors, cream walls, sleek black-and-white photographs. A mahogany table stood in the center, set for two.

He sat at the head, posture relaxed but eyes sharp, following me as I walked in.

“Have a seat, Tesoro,” he said.

I took the chair opposite him, meeting his gaze head-on.

The maids served food and left.

“Eat,” he said.

I stared at the plate.

“I’m not your parents,” he added, sipping champagne. “I won’t drug you.”

I picked up my fork and took a cautious bite. The steak was perfect. I hated that I liked it.

“I take it you approve?” he asked.

“Why did you buy me?” I shot back.

He tilted his head.

“Human trafficking is illegal,” I pressed. “I have rights as a U.S. citizen.”

“Rights?” His lips quirked. “Enlighten me, principessa.”

“I have a right to freedom. What you’re doing is illegal, and I can report you.”

“First—your freedom exists when I say so. Second—you can only report me if you get out of here… which you won’t.”

My jaw clenched. “I don’t know how much you paid—”

“Twenty million dollars.”

I froze. “Twenty—why?”

His eyes darkened. “Because you’ve been mine since the day I saw you.”

Heat crawled up my neck. “I’m my own person.”

“Not anymore.”

I shoved my chair back. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”

I strode out—hallway, white door, stairs, night air.

I ran for the gates.

Strong arms yanked me back.

“Let go!” I screamed.

“Bring her in, Tristan,” his voice ordered. “Lock her in her room.”

“You bastard!” I thrashed.

Dragged back inside, heels scraping the stone, I spat at him, “You’re a monster.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.

“You belong to this monster now.”

Chains. Invisible but unshakable.

I was trapped.

---