Chapter 3
1672 Words
The clock on the wall read 19:02 p.m.
Night had settled over the city, the kind that pressed against the windows and made everything feel smaller. I sat on the edge of my bed, my hands limp in my lap, staring at nothing in particular. The room felt unfamiliar now, like it already knew I was leaving.
My thoughts spiraled: fast, merciless.
Run. Disappear. Start over somewhere no one knows your name.
Then the darker thought crept in, quiet but terrifying: What if I just stop trying altogether? At least that'll make it much easier for all of us, as I'll stop being in their faces or be a burden to anyone.
Maybe I should just reunite with my family, and we can face it all together up there peacefully. I kept thinking to myself.
I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard, forcing it away. I wasn’t brave enough for that. I wasn’t brave enough for anything anymore.
The door creaked open.
“Alina?”
I didn’t look up.
May stood there, her bag slipping from her shoulder as she took in the sight of me, curled inward, eyes red, tears streaking down my face. Her expression shifted instantly from surprise to alarm.
“Hey… what’s wrong?” she asked softly, crossing the room in three quick steps.
I broke.
Everything came out in fragments, my father, the debt, Dr. Jethro, the agreement. My voice shook so badly I could barely form words, but May listened to every one, her hand gripping mine tighter with each sentence.
“That’s illegal,” she said immediately, anger flashing through her tears. “That’s a violation of human rights. We can report him. We should report him.”
I shook my head weakly.
“You don’t understand May,” I whispered. “I don’t stand a chance. It’s me versus him. He has money, influence, and lawyers. I have nothing. If I fight him and lose, the debt comes back. Tripled. They won’t wait this time.”
May knelt in front of me, forcing me to meet her eyes.
“You’re not nothing,” she said fiercely. “You hear me? You’re not alone.”
“I will be,” I replied, my voice breaking. “He’s taking me to his house in God knows where. Somewhere I can’t even choose for myself.”
She pulled me into her arms, holding me as I cried into her shoulder, my body shaking with everything I hadn’t been able to release.
“I’ll come,” she said through her own tears. “Every day if I have to. I’ll come to the hotel. I’ll remind you who you are. We’ll get through this together, Alina. I promise.”
A sharp car horn cut through the air outside.
We both froze.
Slowly, I stood and went to the window. A dark car waited by the curb, engine running, headlights slicing through the night.
My chest tightened.
“He’s here,” I said quietly. “I have to go.”
All I owned fit into one old box we used to store my little sister's clothes and mine in when I had a family. May helped me carry it outside, neither of us speaking, both of us crying.
At the door, I turned to her and wrapped my arms around her as tightly as I could.
“Please,” I sobbed into her shoulder. “Don’t stop checking on me. If you don’t… I might give up.”
She hugged me back just as fiercely. “I won’t. Ever.”
Outside, the driver stepped out and opened the car door.
“Alina Georgewill?” he asked professionally.
“Yes,” I answered, my voice barely audible.
I climbed into the back seat, tears blurring everything, refusing to turn around. I couldn’t bear to see her face one last time.
As the door shut, May’s voice broke through the night.
“I’ll be there for you,” she called out. “And don’t ever forget, you can get through this.”
The car pulled away.
And just like that, the life I knew disappeared behind me, swallowed by the dark road leading to Dr. Jethro’s house.
The car slowed as tall iron gates came into view, opening silently as if they had been expecting me.
The mansion rose beyond them; vast, elegant, almost unreal. Soft golden lights traced its balconies and pillars, reflecting against wide glass windows.
Manicured gardens stretched out on either side of the driveway, fountains murmuring gently, flowers arranged with obsessive perfection. It was the kind of place people dreamed of living in. The kind of place that appeared in magazines and movies.
I felt nothing.
My mind was elsewhere, far from beauty, far from admiration. Every step closer to the house felt like a step deeper into something I couldn’t name yet, something heavy and irreversible.
The car stopped.
The driver opened the door, and I stepped out slowly, my old box clutched in my hands, looking painfully out of place against the polished stone and towering architecture.
Inside, the mansion was even quieter.
No echoes of laughter. No television hum. Just the soft ticking of a clock somewhere far away.
Dr. Jethro sat on a large leather sofa in the living room, sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on his nose, focused on documents spread neatly across a glass table. At that moment, he looked calm. Refined. Almost gentle. Like a man who spent his life saving others.
Someone who couldn’t possibly hurt a soul.
The lie of it made my chest tighten.
I stood there, frozen, watching him, wondering how someone who looked so composed could carry such a dark heart.
As if sensing my presence, he lifted his head.
His eyes met mine.
And then the grin appeared.
Slow. Deliberate. Wicked.
“Well,” he said lightly, leaning back against the sofa. “Welcome home, Alina.”
The word home felt like mockery.
I didn’t respond.
He glanced at the driver instead. “Show her to her room.”
Just like that. No questions. No instructions. No hesitation.
As we walked through long corridors lined with artwork and soft lighting, the silence pressed in on me. Each room we passed looked untouched, preserved, as though no one actually lived there, like it just existed.
When we reached the bedroom, I finally spoke.
“It’s… very quiet,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Does anyone else live here?”
The driver shook his head. “No, miss.”
I hesitated. “Do you?”
“No,” he replied simply.
Something cold settled in my stomach.
“So… it’s just him?” I asked. “And me?”
“Yes,” he said, opening the door. “The gateman closes by 23:00 p.m. No one stays overnight. Only Dr. Jethro. And now you.”
The door opened to a large, beautifully furnished room, far too grand for someone who felt so small.
I stepped inside slowly, the weight of his words sinking in.
Alone.
Just him.
And me.
The door closed softly behind the driver, and the quiet rushed back in, thicker now, louder than before.
For the first time since signing the agreement, the reality fully settled into my bones.
This mansion wasn’t beautiful.
It was a cage.
And I was officially inside it.
The next morning, I was still fast asleep when the door slammed open.
I jolted awake, breath catching in my throat as light flooded the room. My heart raced before my mind caught up, panic blooming sharp and fast.
Dr. Jethro stood in the doorway.
I had fallen asleep in just my shorts, with my upper body bare since I wasn't so used to sleeping with nighties on, tangled in the sheets. I sat up abruptly, pulling the blanket closer around myself, anger flaring through the shock.
“Do you ever knock,” I snapped hoarsely, sarcasm biting through my fatigue, “or is basic courtesy too much to learn?”
He didn’t flinch.
Instead, he smiled, slow, lazy, amused.
“You don’t need to hide anything from me,” he said calmly, stepping farther into the room. “Not for the next two years. That includes everything.”
My stomach dropped. I honestly didn't want to believe what he had just said, and I really hope he wasn't thinking of doing something like that.
He glanced at his watch. “It’s seven.”
I stared at him, still trying to steady my breathing.
“You’ll be introduced today as new staff at the De Ville Hotel,” he continued, as if discussing the weather. “The administration will meet you at eleven.”
I said nothing.
He turned toward the window, pulling the curtains open wider. “Sleeping this late won’t work for you henceforth. You should be up by four.”
Four?
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
“You’ll handle the cleaning here, prepare my breakfast, and still make your hotel shift,” he added casually. “Eight to six. Every day.”
The words stacked on top of each other until they felt unreal.
I sat there, numb, tears burning behind my eyes. Rage clawed at my chest, but it had nowhere to go. I hated him, hated the calmness, the certainty, the way he spoke like my life was a checklist he’d already completed.
My voice came out small. Worn down.
“Noted.”
It tasted like surrender.
He turned back toward the door, satisfied. “The driver will take you to the hotel,” he said. “I’ll meet you there.”
And then he was gone.
The door closed behind him with a final, quiet click.
I sat still for a long moment, staring at the space he had occupied, my hands clenched in the sheets as tears finally slipped free.
This wasn’t a dream.
This wasn’t temporary discomfort.
This was control, officially begun, and it was going to be my life for the next two years.
- Writer
