An unexpected feeling

chapter 1

The dining table felt too large for one person.

I sat there alone, my arms wrapped tightly around myself as my tears dropped onto the polished wood. My father—my only parent—was gone. The silence of the house pressed against me, cruel and unforgiving, every corner filled with memories of a man who would never walk through the door again.

How will I survive now?

The thought tightened my chest until it hurt.

A sudden knock broke the silence.

My breath caught. My heart dropped heavily into my stomach. Maybe it was someone who knew my father—someone coming to offer condolences. I wiped my tears, took a shaky breath, and walked slowly to the door.

When I opened it, three men stood outside.

They were strangers. Tall. Stern. Dressed in dark coats. Their eyes were cold, empty of sympathy.

“What do you want?” I asked, my voice trembling.

One of them stepped forward.

“Just cooperate,” he said calmly, “and you will not get hurt.”

Fear exploded inside me.

I turned and ran.

I barely took two steps before strong hands grabbed me. I screamed and struggled, but a sharp blow sent pain flashing through my body. They dragged me outside and threw me into a waiting carriage. The door slammed shut, trapping me inside.

This was England, 1901.

The carriage rolled through tall iron gates into a vast compound. Lantern lights illuminated neatly trimmed green grass that stretched endlessly on both sides. A long paved road led to a massive house that rose before me like something out of a nightmare.

They pulled me out and escorted me inside.

My tears slowed as shock replaced fear.

The house was magnificent.

Dark wooden panels lined the walls, polished to perfection. A thick rug softened my steps, and a large leather sofa faced a quiet fireplace with a brass clock ticking steadily above it. Crystal glasses lined a sideboard, oil paintings watched silently from the walls. Even in my terror, I could feel the wealth and power that filled the air—and that frightened me more than anything else.

They led me to a large wooden door and knocked.

“Who is it?” a deep voice asked from inside.

“It’s me, Oliver.”

“Come in.”

I was pushed inside.

A man stood by the window, smoke curling from the cigarette between his fingers. Slowly, he turned to face me.

“What do you want with me?” I asked, my voice shaking.

His eyes moved over me slowly, thoughtfully, before he removed the cigarette from his lips.

“Do you know why you are here?” he asked as he sat in a leather chair opposite me.

“I don’t know, sir,” I whispered.

“ I'm Lucius blackwood.” He said as he dropped a document onto the table.

“That will tell you why—if you can read.”

My hands trembled as I picked it up. I glanced up at him angrily, but he only smiled.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Rosemary.”

“Well, Rosemary,” he said coldly, “from now on, you belong to me.”

“What?” I gasped, my eyes flying back to the paper. “What is this?”

He stood and walked toward me until he was only inches away.

“Your father borrowed a large sum of money from me,” he said calmly. “He died before paying it back. His property—including you—now belongs to me.”

“No!” I cried. “You can’t do this. I have rights!”

“Rights?” He laughed softly. “If we went to court, do you truly believe you would win?”

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to look away.

“You should be grateful,” he continued. “Your father was a drunk who sold his own daughter.”

“Stop it!” I screamed. “Don’t insult my father!”

He turned away dismissively.

Despite everything, I loved my father. He hadn’t always been broken. Before my mother died, we were happy. After that… everything fell apart.

I dropped to my knees.

“Please, sir,” I begged. “Let me go. I’ll pay you back. I promise.”

“That’s exactly why you’ll stay,” he said coldly. “You have nowhere to go. No food. No family. Consider this a favor.”

I had no answer. No home. No choice.

“Enough,” he snapped. “Madam Maddie!”

“Yes, sir—Lucius,” a woman’s voice replied as the door opened.

“Take her to her room.”

She helped me to my feet. Madam Maddie was a Black woman with gentle eyes and a calm voice.

“Come, my dear,” she whispered. “It will be all right.”

For the first time that night, I felt a small flicker of comfort.

She led me down a long corridor and stopped at a door.

“This is your room,” she said softly.

I rushed inside and collapsed onto the bed. My sobs broke free, my face buried deep in the pillow as if it could swallow my pain.

Madam Maddie watched from the doorway, sadness in her eyes. Then she quietly closed the door and walked away—leaving me alone with my tears.

I lay there on the bed, my face pressed into the pillow, the fabric growing damp with my tears. The room around me felt like a cage, even though it was far grander than anything I'd ever known. Soft curtains framed the window, and a small lamp cast a warm glow over a wooden dresser and a chair in the corner. But none of it mattered. It was all just a pretty prison.

How had everything fallen apart so quickly? Just yesterday, I was sitting at our old dining table, mourning Father alone.

He wasn't perfect—far from it, especially after Mother died. The drinking, the gambling... it had stolen the light from his eyes. But he was my father. He used to read me stories by the fire, his voice rough but full of love. Now, according to that cruel man—Lucius—he'd sold me away like some forgotten trinket. Was it true? The document looked real, the words blurring through my tears as I read them. A debt so large it swallowed everything, including me.

My body ached from the rough hands that had dragged me here, and my head throbbed where they'd struck me. I curled up tighter, pulling the blanket over myself like a shield. What would become of me? Lucius's words echoed in my mind. "You are my property. I can use you any way I want." A shiver ran through me, cold and unrelenting. He was handsome, yes, in that sharp, dangerous way, but his eyes held no kindness, only possession. Like I was a thing to be owned, not a person with a heart that could break.

The house was quiet now, save for the distant tick of a clock somewhere down the hall. Madam Maddie... She seemed different. Her touch had been gentle, her voice soft like a mother's. "It’s going to be all right," she'd said. Could I believe her? I wanted to, desperately. Maybe she could help me find a way out. Or maybe she was just another part of this nightmare, paid to keep me docile.

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, sitting up slowly. The window drew me—outside, the grounds stretched into the darkness, the lantern lights flickering like distant stars. Escape? The thought flickered, but where would I go? No money, no family. The streets of London would swallow me whole, just as Lucius had said. Starve and die. No, I had to be smart. Patient. Father always told me I was clever, even when he was lost in his cups.

For now, I'll rest. Tomorrow, I'd learn more about this place, about him. And maybe, just maybe, find a crack in the walls of this gilded trap. My tears had slowed, leaving me hollow but determined. I wasn't broken yet. Not completely.