Evelina lay curled on the bed, the velvet curtains closed tightly as though they were trying to smother out the world. The chandelier above had been dimmed; shadows clung to the walls, heavy and oppressive. She had not moved for hours.
Her eyes burned from endless tears. Her throat ached from the soundless sobs that had torn through her body. Even after everything—her kidnapping, her imprisonment, the documents he had shoved in her face, even the laughter when she had tried to kill him—her heart clung stubbornly to one fragile belief.
Her family couldn't have done this.
Not her parents. Not the people who raised her. There had to be another explanation. A lie, a trick, some manipulation of this monstrous man who seemed to enjoy watching her break.
She pressed her face into the pillow, whispering into the fabric as though the words could stitch her soul back together. "They wouldn't. They wouldn't do this to me. They love me. They do."
But the more she repeated it, the more hollow it sounded.
The door creaked open.
Evelina flinched, her body instinctively tensing. Footsteps entered the room, slow and deliberate, the same rhythm that haunted her now.
Kairo Volkov.
His presence was a storm—calm on the surface, but promising thunder beneath.
She didn't lift her head to look at him. She didn't want to see those eyes that cut through every shield she tried to raise.
For a long moment, he said nothing. She could feel him watching her, his silence heavier than any words. Finally, his voice broke the stillness, deep and steady.
"I've watched enough of this pitiful display."
Evelina's body stiffened. She buried her face deeper, as if that could shield her. But then his hand closed around her wrist, firm, unyielding. He yanked her up from the bed. She gasped, her hair falling across her tear-streaked face as he forced her to sit upright.
"You think tears change anything?" His voice was sharp, cutting. "You think denial makes truth softer?"
Her lips trembled. "You're lying. You're twisting everything. My parents—"
He didn't let her finish. His grip shifted, and in his other hand appeared a sleek black device. A tablet.
Before Evelina could react, he turned it on and shoved it in front of her. The screen lit up, and her world shattered.
The footage played clearly, no distortion, no tricks.
There they were—her parents. In a room she recognized all too well: her family's house, the old wooden shelves in the corner, the worn rug on the floor. The sight of it made her chest ache.
And there was Kairo, sitting calmly at the table, a suitcase beside him.
The suitcase opened. Stacks upon stacks of crisp bills were laid out.
Her father reached forward, counting through them with greedy hands. Her mother signed papers, her face set in grim determination.
Evelina's breath hitched. "No… no, this isn't—this can't be—"
On the screen, her father's voice was unmistakable. "This will clear us, yes? The debt—gone?"
Kairo's voice responded, smooth and cold. "In exchange, your daughter is mine. You'll not see her again."
Her mother's eyes flickered, but she said nothing. She simply nodded, pressing her pen harder against the contract.
Evelina's stomach twisted violently. She shook her head, choking on the scream clawing its way out of her chest. "Stop. Stop it!"
But the footage kept playing. Her parents stuffed the money into bags, their hands trembling but not hesitating. They didn't look back. They didn't ask what would happen to her. They didn't even whisper her name.
The screen went dark.
Kairo lowered the tablet slowly, his gray eyes fixed on her trembling form. Evelina's body shook as sobs ripped through her. Her hands clawed at her hair as if she could tear the images from her mind.
"You're lying!" she screamed hoarsely, her voice cracking. "This is fake, it's—it's not real, it's edited, it's—"
His laugh cut her off. A laugh so low it made her skin crawl.
"Edited?" he repeated, almost amused. He leaned closer, his face inches from hers. "Do you think I need to edit the truth? No, Evelina. I don't play with illusions. I deal in reality."
Her tears spilled harder, hot rivers down her cheeks. She shook her head over and over, the denial still clinging desperately inside her chest.
"They loved me," she whispered brokenly. "They—they said they loved me."
Kairo's expression hardened. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Love doesn't sign contracts," he hissed. "Love doesn't take my money and hand you over like property. What you've been clinging to is a fantasy. A childish dream. Do you know what I see before me?"
His voice deepened, sharp as a blade.
"A girl who spends her days drowning in tears, thinking they'll change the world. Do you even know how to survive? Do you understand what it takes to live in reality?"
She whimpered, her body shaking. His words sliced into her, but she couldn't look away from his eyes, those storm-gray eyes that swallowed every protest.
"All you do is cry," he said coldly. "All you do is close your eyes and hope this will disappear. But it won't. Tears don't erase betrayal. Denial doesn't erase chains."
Her lips trembled. "What else am I supposed to do?"
"Adapt."
The single word slammed into her.
He released her chin abruptly, stepping back. His presence was still heavy, filling every corner of the room, but his hands were free now, loose at his sides. He regarded her with the same look one might give a child lost in a storm.
"You can cry until you drown," he said flatly. "Or you can open your eyes and face the world as it is. But what you're doing now—this endless wailing, this refusal to see—is pathetic."
The word stung like a whip. Pathetic.
Evelina's shoulders shook violently. She pressed her hands to her ears, as if blocking the word could erase it. But it echoed inside her skull, over and over. Pathetic.
Her family's faces flashed in her mind again. Her father's greedy hands. Her mother's silent nod. The way they didn't hesitate. Didn't even ask.
She had begged them once for love, for reassurance. Now she realized what it had been worth.
Nothing.
The tears came again, but this time they felt different. Hotter. Sharper. Less like sorrow and more like fire.
Kairo watched her silently, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it seemed almost like he was waiting—for her to break, or perhaps for her to choose.
She wiped at her eyes with trembling hands, glaring weakly at him through blurred vision. "You think you've won because you showed me that? Because you broke me with your proof?" Her voice cracked, but she forced the words out anyway. "Maybe you're right. Maybe they betrayed me. But that doesn't mean I'll belong to you."
For the first time, something flickered in his gaze. Amusement, perhaps, or interest.
"Defiance," he murmured. "Good. Maybe you'll survive after all."
Evelina's chest heaved with every ragged breath. She hated him. She hated him for tearing her illusions apart, for showing her the truth in a way she couldn't escape. But somewhere deep down, beneath the fury and the grief, a new, unsettling thought crept in.
He wasn't wrong.
Her tears hadn't saved her. Her denial hadn't changed reality.
And survival… survival required something else entirely.
Kairo turned toward the door, his voice calm, almost casual.
"Sleep on it, Evelina. Dream of your family if you must. But remember this—dreams don't keep you alive. Reality does."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone once more.
Evelina sank onto the bed, her body trembling violently. The room was silent except for her ragged breaths.
But in the silence, the word kept ringing in her mind.
Pathetic.
She hated him for it. She hated him more than ever.
And yet, in the deepest pit of her despair, a chilling realization whispered back:
Maybe he was right.
To be continued…