Unlike Anthony and most aristocrats—whose concerns began and ended with ballrooms, gala outfits, and conversations wrapped in calculated smiles—Ana carried a wound that forever separated her from their world.
Her time in Adam's hands had revealed the ugliest face of the aristocracy: abuse masked by jewels and perfumes, cruelty hidden behind porcelain smiles.
The mere thought of being touched by one of them made her stomach twist with revulsion.
Only her family and two childhood friends escaped that loathing; they were the only ones with whom she could breathe without feeling poisoned.
Since returning home, she had run into at least seven of her rapists and torturers in the streets, in cafés, in restaurants. They walked free, untouchable, some even daring to greet her with thinly veiled mockery.
In the city's outskirts, however, Ana felt alive. Among cracked streets and faded buildings, she didn't have to face those ghosts. There were no fake smiles, no expensive perfumes hiding rot.
Only Kaspy knew this—and knew, too, that no law or power could change it.
That was why she didn't hesitate when they arrived at a shabby motel. The room smelled of dampness and cigarette smoke, yet to Ana, it was far more bearable than a luxury suite in the aristocratic quarter, a place steeped in tormenting memories.
Once the door closed, Ana took the lead. She had decided to give herself to Kaspy without hesitation. Clothes fell quickly; kisses deepened with hunger.
She, who had learned to please others without feeling anything, was determined to enjoy herself for the first time—and with him, she was succeeding.
Time disappeared. They began with gentle touches, but the passion intensified until it was wild, consuming. Ana discovered pleasure she had never imagined, and in that instant, she knew: she loved Kaspy.
Afterwards, in the quiet warmth, he held her as though shielding her from the world.
"I love you, Ana."
She smiled, and the words slipped out before she could stop them.
"I love you too, Kaspy."
He pulled back slightly, surprised.
"Seriously?"
"Completely."
"But you're an aristocrat… you have everything. What can I give you?"
"Your love. And for the record, I… don't have everything."
She broke into tears, telling him everything—from her abduction to the times she had been forced to smile in front of her abusers. Kaspy's arms tightened; a cold fury burned in his chest.
"That man still wants to hurt you…"
"Yes. And he knows the law will never touch him."
"Then your family is right to want to protect you."
"Maybe… but if I go back, they'll lock me away and I'll never see you again. I couldn't stand that."
He kissed her fiercely.
"I couldn't either. But be ready… your family will come for you."
"I know."
"And if they find out you're with me, living in poverty?"
Ana closed her eyes. A golden cage was still a cage. Yet here, with him, she felt free.
They showered, dressed, and left the motel for Kaspy's home in one of the city's darkest districts. Before stepping out of the car, he spoke seriously.
"You told me everything… now it's my turn. I have an eight-month-old son."
"What?"
"His mother died giving birth. It was just a fling, but I'm his only living relative. I've raised him since."
Inside, Ana took in every detail with fascination. Mara, a neighbor, greeted them warmly.
"He's asleep."
Kaspy thanked her and saw her out, then led Ana to the crib. She gazed at the baby, feeling an unexpected tenderness.
Ana's phone rang—it was her father.
"Ana! Where are you?!"
"I'm fine, Father. But I'm not coming back. Goodbye."
She hung up, removed the SIM card, and tossed it aside.
"I have nothing, Kaspy. No money, no name… nothing."
"Then we'll leave for another city."
"Do you have a place in mind?"
"Yes. Pack your things. We leave tonight."
And so, with an improvised plan and a love burning hotter than fear, Ana and Kaspy prepared to leave everything behind.