The morning light spilled softly through the sheer curtains, casting pale gold across the suite. Elena sat at the vanity, the cooler bag open beside her. Inside: the syringe, the vial, the alcohol swab. Everything was ready.
She stared at it.
Her fingers hovered over the syringe, heart thudding. She'd rehearsed it. She knew the steps. But now, it felt different. Real.
She took a deep breath, drew the hormone into the syringe, and stood.
Her reflection in the mirror looked calm. But her hands trembled.
She lifted her shirt, pinched the skin of her lower abdomen, and pressed the needle in.
A sting. Then warmth.
She exhaled slowly, pressing the swab to the spot, then disposing of the syringe in the container.
It was done.
She pulled her shirt down, grabbed her backpack, and headed for the door.
She needed school. She needed normal.
But as she opened the door, Luca was already there.
"Where are you going?" he asked, eyes narrowing.
Elena blinked. "Class. I have a lecture at ten."
Luca stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "We discussed this."
"I know," she said quickly. "But I'm not pregnant yet. I can still go. I need to keep up."
"You started injections today," he said. "Your body is being prepared. Stress affects hormone levels. You need rest."
"I'll be fine," she insisted. "It's just a few hours."
Luca's voice dropped. "You signed the contract, Elena. You agreed to follow medical guidance. That includes avoiding unnecessary stress."
She looked away, jaw tight. "School isn't unnecessary."
"In this arrangement, it is."
She clenched her fists. "So I'm supposed to sit here and wait? Just exist until something happens?"
"You're supposed to protect the process," he said. "That's what you agreed to."
Elena stared at him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think it would feel like this."
Luca's gaze softened slightly. "It's temporary. But it's necessary."
She didn't respond.
He turned to leave. "Brittany will bring your course materials. You'll study from here."
The door closed behind him.
Elena stood in silence, her backpack still in her hand.
She wasn't just giving up her body.
She was giving up her life.
Elena sat at the desk in her suite, her laptop open, textbooks stacked neatly beside her. Brittany had delivered everything—syllabi, lecture notes, even a flash drive with recorded classes.
She stared at the screen.
The words blurred.
Her professor's voice echoed through the speakers, explaining cellular respiration with practiced enthusiasm. Elena tried to follow along, highlighting key terms, jotting notes in the margins.
But her mind drifted.
To the injection that morning.
To Luca's voice—firm, final.
To the contract tucked away in the drawer.
She pressed her pen to the paper, but her hand didn't move.
She used to love this. Learning. Thinking. Planning her future.
Now, her future felt paused.
Hijacked.
She leaned back in the chair, rubbing her temples. The room was too quiet. Too clean. Too controlled.
She opened her notebook and flipped to a blank page.
Instead of lecture notes, she wrote:
**I don't feel like myself.**
She stared at the sentence.
Then closed the notebook.
She stood and walked to the window, arms folded, eyes scanning the garden below. The flowers bloomed. The fountain trickled. The world looked peaceful.
But inside, she felt like a stranger.
She whispered to herself, "I'm still Elena. I'm still me."
But the words didn't feel true.
Not today.
Elena sat cross-legged on the bed, her laptop closed, textbooks untouched. Her phone buzzed softly in her hand.
A notification popped up:
You've been invited to join "BioSci Girls '25"
She hesitated.
It was a group chat—likely created by students in her department. She hadn't spoken to anyone from school since she moved into the estate. Maybe this was a chance to feel connected again.
She tapped Accept and joined the group.
The chat was quiet at first. A few welcome messages. Some memes. Class reminders. Nothing personal.
She smiled faintly, relieved.
Hours passed.
She left her phone on the nightstand while she tried to study again.
Then—another buzz.
She picked it up.
The chat had exploded.
One message caught her eye:
"Has anyone seen Elena Hart lately?"
More followed;
"She just vanished. I think she quit."
"Probably became a sugar baby. Her dad's sick, right? She's too poor to pay bills."
A string of laughing emojis followed.
Elena's breath caught.
She scrolled.
More comments.
"She always looked desperate. Quiet girls like that always end up doing something wild."
"I bet she's living in some rich guy's house right now."
Her fingers trembled.
She stared at the screen, heart pounding, throat tight.
She wanted to reply. To defend herself. To scream.
But she didn't.
She left the group silently.
Set the phone down.
And curled into herself on the bed.
They didn't know.
They didn't understand.
And they didn't care.
She pressed her face into the pillow, eyes burning.
She wasn't a sugar baby.
She was a daughter trying to save her father.
But to them… she was just a rumor.
Elena sat curled on the bed, her back to the door, shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. The pillow muffled the sound, but the pain was raw—sharp and humiliating.
She didn't hear the door open.
Luca stepped inside, pausing when he saw her hunched form.
"What's the problem?" he asked, voice low but firm.
Elena sat up abruptly, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse, trying to compose herself. Her phone slipped from her hand as she reached to hide it.
But Luca was already moving.
He stepped forward, picked up the phone, and scanned the screen.
The group chat was still open.
His eyes narrowed as he read the messages.
"Sugar baby."
"Too poor to pay bills."
"Living in some rich guy's house."
Laughing emojis. Cruel assumptions. Digital venom.
Luca's jaw tightened. His fingers curled around the phone, knuckles white.
He didn't speak for a moment.
Then, quietly but with unmistakable authority:
"Tomorrow you go to school with one of my cars."
Elena blinked, stunned. "What?"
"My chauffeur will drive you to and from campus," he said. "You'll arrive safely. You'll leave safely. And no one will mistake you for anything less than what you are."
She stared at him, tears still clinging to her lashes. "But I thought…"
"You're still a student," he said. "And you're under my protection now."
Elena's lips parted, but no words came.
Luca handed her the phone gently, then turned toward the door.
"Let them talk," he said. "You'll show them who you are."
Then he was gone.
Elena sat there, stunned.
Not just by the gesture.
But by the fact that, for the first time since she signed the contract…
She didn't feel alone.