Chapter 3:His House,His rules
1045 Words
The morning sunlight filtered through the threadbare curtains of Luna’s bedroom, casting long, golden streaks across the floor. She hadn’t slept. Her eyes were sore and bloodshot from crying, but no tears came now. She had made her decision. There was no undoing it.
She moved quietly so as not to wake her mother, brushing a soft kiss to the woman’s temple before gathering her things. She only packed a single small bag—essentials only. The rest of her life, her dignity, her pride, were already in someone else’s hands.
Outside, a sleek black car waited just as it had the night before.
Antonio stood by the passenger side, dressed in black from head to toe, his face as unreadable as ever. He opened the door wordlessly.
Luna slid inside.
The silence in the car was stifling. She gripped her bag tightly on her lap, heart pounding against her ribs like it wanted out of her chest. She stared out the window, refusing to let Antonio see how scared she was.
After what felt like hours, the car turned into a private drive lined with tall hedges and iron gates. As they approached, the gates creaked open, revealing a mansion straight out of a dream—or a nightmare. Three stories of marble and glass loomed ahead, guarded by security cameras and stone lions at the steps.
Luna swallowed hard.
“This is it?” she murmured.
Antonio didn’t respond.
Once the car stopped, another man in a suit came forward and opened her door. Luna stepped out, heels clicking against the stone pavement. The air smelled of jasmine and power.
The front door opened before she could knock.
Lorenzo stood there, his dark eyes raking over her slowly.
“You’re late,” he said simply.
“It’s five minutes,” she snapped.
He smirked. “Five minutes late in my world is still late.”
Luna glared but said nothing. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her nervous.
“Come in,” he said, stepping aside.
She entered cautiously, her senses overwhelmed by the size and silence of the mansion. The air conditioning hummed softly, the floors gleamed, and the walls were decorated with artwork that probably cost more than her life.
“This is your new home,” Lorenzo said, walking beside her with deliberate, unhurried steps. “You’ll have access to the kitchen, gym, garden, and your bedroom. But there are rules.”
He turned to her, his expression darkening. “No sneaking out. No guests. No touching anything that isn’t yours. No lies. And no saying no to me unless you want this deal terminated.”
Luna stiffened. “You said I’d have a say. That you don’t force.”
“I don’t,” he replied coolly. “But you agreed to belong to me. And that means you will listen.”
Her lips trembled, but she bit down the response.
He motioned to a grand staircase. “Your room is upstairs, last door on the right. Dinner is at seven. Don’t be late again.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the vast, silent foyer.
---
Luna’s room was bigger than her entire apartment.
The bed was massive, dressed in pristine white sheets. A walk-in closet sat empty, waiting for clothes she didn’t own. The bathroom was all marble and glass, with a rainfall shower and gold-plated taps.
It felt like a prison.
She dropped her bag and sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. She wanted to cry, but her body had gone numb.
Three months, she reminded herself.
Three months of being owned.
For her mother.
She buried her face in her hands, guilt gnawing at her like a slow poison.
---
The afternoon passed in a haze. A maid came in silently and placed clothes in the closet—elegant dresses, silk lingerie, and heels. Luna couldn’t even look at them.
At exactly 6:45, she changed into a deep red dress that clung to her body like sin. She hated how it fit. Hated how it made her feel like she was already his.
She descended the stairs slowly, heels clicking, heart racing.
Lorenzo was already seated at the long dining table, sipping red wine. He didn’t look up when she entered.
“Sit,” he said.
She did.
The food was already served—pasta, grilled salmon, and wine. She picked at it, appetite gone.
He watched her in silence for a while, then said, “You didn’t eat lunch.”
“I wasn’t hungry.”
“You need to stay healthy. I paid too much to have you collapse.”
She dropped her fork, glaring. “Is that all I am to you? A purchase?”
He set down his glass. “You’re a transaction. One that will benefit us both.”
She stood abruptly. “I can’t do this.”
He rose too, slow and deliberate. “You can. And you will.”
He walked toward her. She backed away, pulse racing.
“Don’t touch me,” she warned.
“I’m not going to,” he said. “But I will remind you of the stakes.”
He stopped inches away, his voice low. “Your mother is being prepped for surgery tomorrow morning. Paid in full. No delays. You signed up for this, Luna. You came back to me.”
Tears stung her eyes.
He lifted a finger to her cheek, brushing away a tear before it could fall. “You’re stronger than you think. But you’ll learn—obedience can be power too.”
She slapped his hand away and stormed out of the room, his quiet chuckle chasing her down the hall.
---
That night, Luna curled up on the enormous bed, trying to disappear into the mattress. Her phone was gone—confiscated, no doubt. She was alone in a stranger’s world, with no escape, no voice, and no control.
And still, part of her burned with something she couldn’t name.
Fear. Rage.
Curiosity.
Lorenzo DeMarco had broken her reality in two.
And somehow, even though she hated him, her body remembered his touch.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
Inside, the storm was just beginning.
- Writer
