I did not sleep.
The bed was soft.
The sheets were clean.
The air smelled faintly of lavender instead of alcohol and blood.
And yet, I did not sleep.
Comfort felt unfamiliar. Dangerous. Like something that could be snatched away the moment I relaxed into it.
The maid's quarters.
That was where they had taken me after Damian dismissed me the night before.
I had expected something small. Cramped. Bare.
Instead, when the door opened, I had stood frozen.
The room was bigger than the one I used to share with my sister. The polished wooden floor gleamed beneath the warm light of a chandelier. The walls were painted a soft cream. A wide bed sat in the center, covered in plush pillows. A thick rug lay underfoot. A flat-screen TV was mounted across from the bed. There was even a private bathroom.
If this was how the maids lived, then what did his room look like?
Melinda had watched my reaction carefully.
"You'll stay here," she had said gently. "Follow instructions. Don't wander. And whatever you do… do not enter restricted areas."
Her tone had changed slightly on those last words.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes," I had replied.
I meant it.
At least, I thought I did.
Morning came too quickly.
I dressed in the uniform laid out for me, a fitted black dress, modest but elegant. Clean shoes. My reflection startled me. I didn't look like the girl who had been dragged out of a broken house two nights ago.
I looked… presentable.
Almost polished.
I wheeled the cleaning cart down the corridor, my stomach tightening as I stopped in front of the largest door on the floor.
His door.
I knocked softly.
"Who's it?" His voice came from inside, low and rough with sleep.
"I'm here to clean your room, sir. May I come in?"
A pause.
Then, "Come in."
The room was massive.
Grey and white tones. Marble accents. A king-sized bed positioned like a throne. Floor-to-ceiling windows. Abstract art on the walls.
Everything about it radiated wealth.
Power.
Control.
I kept my eyes lowered as I pushed the cart in.
But curiosity betrayed me.
I glanced toward the bed.
And froze.
He was already watching me.
Those blue eyes were sharp. Awake. Focused.
I hadn't heard him move, but suddenly he was standing only a few feet away.
"You are not allowed to leave this house without my permission," he said calmly.
His voice was cold.
"When you are done working, you stay in your room."
"Yes, sir."
"I don't have anywhere to go anyway," I added quietly.
His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. Studying. Measuring.
Then he turned and disappeared into the bathroom without another word.
I exhaled shakily.
Why was my heart racing?
He bought me.
I should hate him.
But instead…
I felt something far more dangerous.
Curiosity.
The mansion was enormous. Silent. Controlled.
Days passed in routine. Clean. Polish. Wash. Serve.
Damian barely acknowledged me.
But I felt him.
Like an unseen presence watching from somewhere beyond my sight.
That evening, hunger drove me into the kitchen. I made pancakes quietly, the familiar scent almost comforting. I cleaned up after myself carefully.
Then curiosity whispered again.
The mansion was too large not to explore.
Just a quick look.
No one would notice.
I wandered down a hallway I hadn't seen before.
The lights were dimmer here.
The air felt heavier.
At the far end stood a single door.
Melinda's warning echoed in my mind.
Do not enter restricted areas.
My hand still reached for the knob.
The door opened silently.
A staircase led down into darkness.
My pulse quickened.
I descended.
At the bottom stood another door. Iron-clad. Cold.
I pulled it open.
The smell hit instantly.
Metal.
Rot.
Death.
Bodies.
Dozens of them.
Lined in grotesque order.
Wrapped in black cloth.
Bound.
Still.
A sob caught in my throat....
A hand seized my arm violently.
I was ripped backward, my back slamming into a solid chest.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN HERE?!"
The roar echoed off the concrete walls.
Damian.
Not calm.
Not controlled.
Rage burned in his eyes.
"I—I didn't mean—"
The slap came hard.
My head snapped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek. I tasted blood immediately.
Before I could steady myself, his hand fisted into my hair and yanked my head back.
"You stupid, reckless girl!" he shouted.
Tears streamed down my face.
"I told you there are places you do not enter!"
"I'm sorry!" I sobbed. "I was just curious!"
"You don't get to be curious in my house!"
He shoved me hard.
I hit the concrete floor painfully.
Fear swallowed me whole.
He stalked toward me slowly.
"You disobeyed me," he said, voice trembling with fury. "On your third day."
He grabbed my arm again and dragged me across the basement floor. I cried out, trying to resist, but his grip was merciless.
He stopped at another steel door.
One I hadn't even noticed.
He punched in a code.
The door opened.
Inside was darkness.
Concrete walls.
A single dim bulb.
A drain in the center of the floor.
"No," I whispered.
"You want to explore?" he said coldly. "Explore this."
He shoved me inside.
I stumbled forward, barely catching myself.
"Please, I'm sorry!"
"You will stay here," he said flatly.
"Two days."
My heart stopped.
"No food."
"No comfort."
"No wandering."
"You will learn obedience."
"Damian, please....."
"If you say one more word," he said quietly, "I will make it a week."
My sobs died instantly.
He stepped back.
The heavy metal door slammed shut.
The lock clicked.
And silence swallowed me whole.
The cold crept into my bones within minutes.
There were no windows.
No sense of time.
The floor was hard. The walls unforgiving.
I wrapped my arms around myself and slid down against the wall, trembling.
I had escaped my father's cruelty.
Only to be locked in a billionaire's private prison.
And no one.....
No one....
Would ever hear me scream.
******
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