The knife gleamed beneath the chandelier light, casting thin streaks of silver onto the wall as the woman stepped forward.
Aurora backed up instinctively, her bare feet cold against the marble.
"I asked you a question," Aurora said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Who are you?"
The woman's smirk didn't reach her eyes. "I'm the one Rafael used up. The one he broke." She tilted her head. "And you… you're the one he replaced me with."
Aurora's heart thudded wildly.
She took in the woman's features. The high cheekbones, full lips, the long dark hair. Not identical to hers—but enough that it was eerie. Like Rafael had sought out a ghost and dressed it in new skin.
"You were with him?" Aurora asked, trying to stall, to understand.
The woman laughed coldly. "I was his. Just like you think you are now. But when he was finished… he didn't let go. He never lets go. I escaped. Barely."
The blade trembled in her hand.
Aurora's mind raced. There were no guards in sight. Rafael was likely still in his office. She couldn't scream — not without risking being stabbed before help came.
"I didn't ask for any of this," Aurora said slowly, keeping her eyes on the knife. "He bought me. I didn't want—"
"Doesn't matter," the woman snapped. "You stayed. You let him ruin you, just like he ruined me."
Something about the way she said ruin wasn't just hatred — it was grief. Twisted. Long-lived.
"How did you get in?" Aurora whispered.
The woman's smile widened. "You think Rafael's mansion is a fortress? I know every inch of this place. I lived here for two years." Her voice cracked. "I slept in that bed. I sucked his cock every night. I let him chain me to the posts. And then… he threw me in the basement like trash."
Aurora blinked. "What?"
The woman stepped closer, wild emotion flickering across her face.
"I clawed my way out of that place," she hissed. "I swore I'd never come back. But then he bought you. Same face. Same voice. He can't let go. He never let go of me, either."
She was unraveling. And Aurora knew—this woman hadn't come to talk.
She'd come to finish something.
"Please," Aurora said gently. "You don't have to do this."
The woman raised the blade—
And the door exploded open.
Rafael.
Gun drawn. Jaw clenched. Voice like thunder.
"Drop the knife."
The woman spun, blade poised to throw. But Rafael was faster.
Bang.
She hit the floor hard, blood blooming across her silk blouse.
Aurora screamed.
Rafael rushed to her side, his hands checking her body for wounds. "Are you hurt?"
Aurora couldn't speak. Her entire body trembled.
"She—she was in the house," she finally choked out.
Rafael looked down at the woman. "I told them to burn her body ten years ago. I watched them drag her out."
"You killed her?"
"She tried to kill me first," Rafael growled. "She stabbed me in my sleep. Said if she couldn't have me, no one could."
Aurora's breath hitched.
He pulled her against his chest. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone touch you."
But Aurora could still feel the cold blade in the air.
Still hear those words:
You were never his.
—
That night, the rain fell harder than it had in weeks.
Aurora sat in the shower for what felt like hours, the water pouring over her skin. She scrubbed at her arms, her chest, her thighs — trying to wash away the terror.
Rafael entered silently, stepping into the steam-filled room.
He didn't say a word as he joined her, fully clothed, kneeling behind her.
"Why didn't you tell me about her?" she asked, voice hoarse.
"I buried her memory," he said. "Just like I thought I buried her body."
"She said you locked her in the basement."
His silence was answer enough.
"Rafael…"
He reached forward, turning her to face him. His eyes burned.
"She was dangerous," he said. "And she wasn't you."
Then he leaned in and kissed her.
Soft. Slow. As if asking permission.
Aurora didn't pull away.
Maybe she was broken too.
But she still wanted him.
His hands slid down her wet skin, gripping her hips as he pressed her against the tile. The water soaked through his shirt as he lifted her into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist.
"After tonight," he murmured, voice dark, "I need to feel that you're mine."
She nodded.
And he took her.
His cock pressed against her entrance, then slid inside in one smooth stroke.
She gasped, clinging to his shoulders, the warmth of him grounding her.
He moved with purpose — slow thrusts that filled her completely. The steam swirled around them as his lips found her neck, biting, sucking, claiming.
"You still taste like fear," he growled. "Let me fuck it out of you."
She moaned, head falling back as pleasure overtook the panic.
His thrusts deepened. Harder. Faster. Until her cries echoed in the marble room.
He turned her around, hands on her hips, and bent her forward under the water.
Then he took her again — raw and feral.
Their skin slapped. Her breasts bounced with each thrust. She screamed his name, and he snarled hers.
"You belong to me," he said, voice like a vow.
Her climax tore through her like a wave crashing against stone.
He followed, burying himself deep with a final groan, releasing every ounce of anger, lust, and fear into her body.
And when it was over, he held her.
Not because he was gentle.
But because he didn't want to let go.
Ever.
—
Later, wrapped in sheets, Aurora stared at the ceiling.
"She said I wasn't the only one you bought," she whispered.
Rafael tensed. "You weren't."
She turned to him. "How many?"
He looked away. "Enough to know none of them were you."
Her heart ached.
"Tell me the truth," she said. "All of it."
Rafael met her eyes.
"I'll tell you everything. Tomorrow."
"But why tomorrow?"
He kissed her forehead.
"Because someone's here to see you."
Before she could ask what he meant—
There was a knock on the door.
And then it opened.
A man stepped inside.
Older. Pale. Familiar.
Aurora sat up sharply, breath catching in her throat.
"…Dad?"