Ophelia POV:-

I gasped for air, my lungs burning as I frantically looked back over my shoulder. My heart sank, and my legs trembled with fear. They were still chasing me, their footsteps closing in. There were three of them, their strong, muscular bodies towering over the crowds like giants. Their faces twisted with cruel intent, their eyes fixed on me like predators stalking their prey.

I forced myself to keep running, my legs pumping furiously as I desperately sought to escape their reach. I had to protect what I had kept safe till now—my dignity, my virginity. The thought of their hands on me, their violation of my body and soul, filled me with unspeakable horror.

I couldn't believe that the people I considered my family, the ones I trusted and loved, would not hesitate to do this to me. Their betrayal cut deeper than any physical wound, leaving me feeling shattered and vulnerable.

As I ran, the streets blurred together, a chaotic jumble of lights and sounds. I didn't dare look back again, fearing what I might see. My only focus was on finding a safe haven, a place to hide from the monsters pursuing me.

But where could I go? Who could I trust? The questions swirled in my mind like a maelstrom, leaving me feeling lost and alone. All I knew was that I had to keep running, no matter what lay ahead.

We had come to attend the wedding of a distant sister of mine, a stranger to me in every sense of the word. I didn't even know her name, a fact that highlighted the disconnect between me and my family. This city, with its unfamiliar streets and cold, unforgiving buildings, seemed to mirror the emotional landscape of my life. Just as I felt lost and alone in this concrete jungle, I felt equally adrift in my own family.

The family I considered close and blood-related to me, the ones who were supposed to love and support me, had turned out to be strangers in disguise. Their faces, once familiar and comforting, now seemed like masks hiding their true intentions. I felt like a ghost hovering on the periphery of their lives, invisible and insignificant.

Do I sound pathetic and wretched? Maybe because I am crying, my tears are a testament to the anguish and despair that had been building up inside me for so long. My family, the ones who were supposed to be my rock, my safe haven, had turned out to be my tormentors.

My family consists of my father, Dominic Grey, a man whose cold, calculating gaze made me shiver; my mother, Anna Grey, whose words cut deeper than any knife; my elder sister, Esther Grey, who seemed to take pleasure in my misery; and my brother, Arthur Grey, whose silence was deafening. Small family, happy family, no? The irony was almost laughable.

But I did not choose this life, nor did I commit any terrible sin for which I had to be punished like this. I was not born by choice; my existence was merely a consequence of my mother's illness, which had prevented her from terminating her pregnancy. No one loved me; on the contrary, they treated me like an animal, a slave whom they had bought at a very low price. My worth was measured in terms of my utility, my ability to serve their needs, and nothing more.

But I held onto hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness that surrounded me. I hoped that one day everything would change. That one day, I would be free from the daily physical and mental torture that had become a routine, a never-ending cycle of pain and fear.

I believed in giving people a second chance, hoping that they would see the error of their ways and change their behavior towards me. But that chance never came. Or maybe no one ever felt the need to change, to make amends for the hurt they had caused me.

If I ever dared to express my dislike for something, I was met with silence, indifference, or worse, violence. Even something as basic as food was denied to me or given to me last and in the smallest portions. No one ever showed me pity or compassion; no one ever tried to understand me.

The beatings were a regular occurrence, with belts, sticks, and whips being used to inflict pain on me. But they were careful to hide their brutality to ensure that no one outside the family knew what was happening to me. I was strictly instructed to keep quiet and to never reveal the atrocities and misbehavior that I suffered at their hands.

That's why I was homeschooled, isolated from the outside world, and forced to endure the cruelty of every teacher who came to teach me. They seemed to take pleasure in venting their anger on me, as if I were a punching bag, a scapegoat for their frustrations.

But I was not bad at studies. In fact, I excelled, hoping that my academic performance would somehow reduce the harassment and earn me some praise and some recognition. But even when I came first in class, I was met with indifference, told that I didn't need to study and that it was pointless.

Now, at 21, I've completed my graduation in secret, hiding my achievements from my family. I thought that if I worked hard and earned money, maybe their hatred would reduce and maybe they would see me in a different light. But deep down, I know that's just a pipe dream.

I don't understand why they didn't just kill me; why they kept me alive to suffer like this. Maybe it's my destiny to be a punching bag for everyone, a scapegoat for their frustrations. I don't know if anyone ever noticed my pain or my struggles. But I felt it every day, every moment.

Well, all the pain and suffering I endured at the hands of my family doesn't matter right now because they've crossed a new boundary. They've traded my honor, my dignity, and my body to those three goons from whom my brother had taken a loan and was unable to repay. It's like they've sold me into prostitution and handed me over to these men to do with me as they please.

As far as I know, my family wasn't going through a severe financial crisis that would justify such a drastic action. They didn't need to trade me to pay off the loan. But they did it anyway, showing me once again that I mean nothing to them.

My mother's words still echo in my ears, a constant reminder of her betrayal. "Arthur will not be able to repay the loan, but please don't do anything to him. Instead, take his sister and spend the night with her; maybe the price will be paid. Anyway, she is a virgin." I couldn't believe a mother could utter such words about her own daughter. She was trading my honor, my body, and my soul. If she could do this, what else would she do? What other depths would she sink to?

I've lost everything—my body, my health, my self-respect—all for my family. And now, I've lost even that. I couldn't lose anything more, so I did the only thing a helpless girl like me could do in this situation. I ran away. Far away from everyone, from the only life I've ever known.

But where do I go now? I was running without looking or thinking when I collided with someone. An unknown man, tall, dark, and dangerous, looking at me with indifference. It's dimly lit here, but I'm sure his eyes are a deep maroon color, a color that sends shivers down my spine.

What will he do to me? Will he help me or hurt me? I don't know, but I'm too exhausted to care. I'm too broken to fight anymore. All I can do is stand here, frozen in fear, waiting for whatever comes next.