The morning was no softer than the night.
I sat in silence, staring at the streaks of sunlight crawling weakly through the curtains, wishing the warmth could pierce the chill in my bones. The room looked expensive—silken sheets, a chandelier, polished furniture—but it felt no different from a dungeon. Beauty meant nothing when you were locked in it like a pet.
I hadn't slept. How could I? My mind kept replaying the nightmare of the night before.
Adrian—the mafia's devil—had spoken my name with a cruel familiarity, his piercing eyes burning into me as if I already belonged to him.
And Vera.
She had stood beside him like a queen guarding her throne. Beautiful, poised, dangerous. Her hand lingered on his arm, her gaze sharp on me. She didn't bother to hide her hatred.
She wanted me to know: I was nothing. He was hers.
The memory made my stomach twist.
A sound jolted me from my thoughts—the lock turning. My heart jumped. For a second, I thought it might be Adrian himself.
But it was her.
Vera walked in with the grace of someone who believed the world owed her its gaze. A maid trailed behind her, balancing a silver tray that carried the smell of fresh bread, eggs, and fruit. My stomach clenched, betraying me with hunger, but I forced my face into cold indifference.
The maid set the tray on the table, bowed, and scurried out quickly—as though she didn't want to breathe the same air as me.
The door closed again, locking, leaving me trapped with Vera.
She crossed her arms and gave me a long, assessing look before breaking into a slow, mocking smile.
"Well," she drawled, "still here. Still pretending you matter."
I stayed silent, meeting her gaze without flinching.
She stepped closer, her perfume sharp and suffocating. She tilted her head, eyes narrowing like a predator circling prey. "Eat," she said softly. "You'll need your strength."
"I'm not hungry," I replied flatly.
She smirked. "Liar. I heard your stomach growl."
I clenched my jaw.
She took another step, her voice dropping lower, colder. "Let me be clear, Stacy. I don't know the reason why he brought you her and I don't care, He has plenty of women. More than you could count. But I am the one closest to him. I am the one he listens to. You—" her eyes raked over me with disdain, "you're nothing but a problem dumped at his feet."
Anger rose in my chest, hot and sharp. "Then why are you here?" I shot back. "Why waste your breath on me if I'm such a nobody?"
Her lips tightened before curving into a venomous smile. "Because girls like you are the dangerous kind. You walk in with your wide eyes and false innocence, and men start to notice. I won't allow it. I won't let you think, even for a second, that you could take my place."
I barked a bitter laugh, though my hands trembled at my sides. "Take your place? Do you think I want it? Do you think I want him?"
Her smile faltered.
I stepped forward, close enough that I could see the flicker of something ugly flash through her perfect eyes. "Listen carefully, Vera. I don't want Adrian. I don't want his money, his power, or his attention. You can keep your crown, you can keep his touch, you can keep the cold comfort of being 'the closest.' Because I hate him."
The word cracked in the air like thunder—hate.
Vera stiffened. For a moment, silence stretched heavy and sharp. Then, slowly, she laughed. But it wasn't amusement. It was brittle, furious.
"You'll regret saying that," she whispered, voice dripping venom. "You think you're strong now, but Adrian doesn't tolerate defiance. He'll break you until you're begging for scraps. And when he does, don't think I'll be kind."
Her smile returned, sharper than a blade, though her eyes betrayed the storm brewing beneath. She turned on her heel, her heels striking the floor with deliberate, angry taps.
At the door, she glanced back one last time. "Stay in your place, Sweetheart. Or I'll make sure you learn it the hard way."
The lock clicked as the door shut behind her.
I stood frozen, fists clenched so tightly my nails dug crescents into my palms.
I wanted to scream. To throw the tray of food across the room. To tear down these gilded walls and run until I could breathe again.
Instead, I sank onto the bed, my chest heaving.
Vera thought I wanted Adrian. She thought I coveted her place. She couldn't be more wrong.
I didn't envy her. I pitied her.
Because no matter how close she was to him, no matter how proudly she flaunted her crown, she was still in chains. Chains made of fear, of desire, of his power.
I would rather rot in this room than bow to him.