---
Night fell like a curse over the mansion.
Lucian's voice was cold when he gave the order. "Bring her to me."
Steve obeyed without question, knocking on Mirabel's door.
"You are summoned by Lord Lucian."
Her pulse quickened, but she followed. When she entered the master's chamber, her eyes locked on him at once. He sat in the dim glow of the lamps, smoke curling from the cigarette at his lips, his gaze fixed on her with unrelenting hunger.
His eyes trailed shamelessly over her thin nightdress, the fabric barely clinging to her curves.
"Come closer," he said, his tone low, commanding.
Mirabel stepped forward, uneasy, tugging the hem of the dress down. "I would like to change before we speak," she whispered, already backing away.
Lucian's hand shot out, catching her wrist. With one violent pull, she was dragged onto the bed, her body pinned beneath his weight.
"What are you doing?!" she gasped, struggling.
"You belong to me," he growled. "And I'll do what I want."
Rage flared in her eyes. "I'm no one's slave! Let me go, you bastard!"
Her teeth sank into his hand, forcing a curse from his lips. His palm cracked across her cheek, the sting leaving her stunned as he pressed her down harder.
She fought, shouting, cursing him, but her words fell uselessly against the wall of his desire. His mouth crashed against hers—hard, punishing, devouring—and his hands roamed roughly, stripping away her defenses.
"Don't touch me!" she screamed, her voice breaking into sobs.
But Lucian was lost to the darkness inside him. The room filled with the sound of her resistance and his unrelenting force, until her cries turned to muffled sobs. His movements were not gentle, not tender—they were possession, punishment, a cruel claiming that tore through her innocence.
Her scream pierced the night as pain and humiliation swallowed her whole. He silenced it with his mouth, kissing her as if to brand her as his, his hands bruising her skin, his hunger merciless.
And then… silence.
The sheets beneath them bore the proof of what he had taken. Lucian's chest heaved as he finally pulled back, his face shadowed with something unreadable. Guilt? Satisfaction? He pushed the thought away, forcing his voice to remain cold.
"Leave."
Mirabel gathered the torn scraps of her nightdress, tears blurring her vision. She glared at him through her brokenness.
"You'll regret this," she whispered, her voice shaking with rage. "I will never forgive you."
She fled the chamber, slipping into new clothes before racing to the kitchen. There, at last, the tears fell freely. She pressed her hands to her face, whispering to herself:
"Don't let him break you… don't let him win. He's just a bastard. Nothing more."
"Mirabel?" Tracy's soft voice startled her. She had appeared silently, her face filled with concern. "What happened?"
Mirabel wiped her cheeks quickly. "Nothing. I just… I just miss my mother."
Tracy pulled her into a hug. "I'm sorry."
Mirabel forced a fragile smile. "It's alright. Let's go."
And together, they walked back into the shadows of the mansion, though Mirabel knew the night had already marked her forever.
---