I woke to the sound of muffled voices and faint footsteps outside the door. The room was dim, heavy curtains blocking out most of the sunlight. I blinked against the half-light, my heart sinking as the reality of my situation crashed over me again. This wasn't a dream, and I wasn't free.
The soft bed and clean sheets couldn't erase the ache in my body or the memory of months spent locked in a filthy cage. Every inch of me hurt, a constant reminder of the life I had endured before Lorenzo had purchased me. Purchased. The word alone was enough to make bile rise in my throat.
I sat up slowly, my muscles stiff and uncooperative, and for a fleeting moment, I considered running. But where would I go? The market had stripped me of everything—my strength, my hope, my will to fight. And now, I was here, in Lorenzo's mansion, with no idea of what was expected of me or what he wanted in return.
The door creaked open, and I froze.
A woman entered, carrying a tray of food. Her face was kind, but her eyes carried heaviness, as though she had seen too much. She moved with quiet efficiency, setting the tray down on a small table near the bed.
"Good morning," she said softly, her voice a soothing contrast to the pounding ache in my chest.
I didn't respond, my throat too dry to form words.
"I brought you some breakfast," she continued, her tone gentle but firm.
My stomach growled involuntarily, and I hated myself for it. I didn't want to take anything from these people, but hunger gnawed at my insides, relentless and unforgiving. Slowly, I reached for the plate. My hands trembled as I picked up a piece of bread, the scent of it almost overwhelming.
The woman watched me as I ate, her expression unreadable. "I know you're scared," she said after a moment. "But you're safe here."
Safe. The word rang hollow in my ears, as though it had no meaning anymore.
"Who are you?" I managed to croak out, my voice barely above a whisper.
"My name is Emilia," she said, her gaze steady. "I work here. I help take care of the house."
"Do I have to work here?" I asked, though I wasn't sure I wanted the answer. The thought of doing anything, being forced into any kind of labor, filled me with dread.
Emilia hesitated, her fingers twisting the fabric of her apron. "You will have to ask Mr. Lorenzo about that," she said finally.
The door opened again, and Lorenzo stepped into the room. The air shifted immediately, heavy with his presence. He was dressed sharply, his dark suit tailored to perfection, but it was his eyes that held my attention. Cold, calculating, and utterly unreadable.
"You're awake," he said, his voice low and steady. "Good."
I sat up straighter, my pulse quickening.
"Get dressed," he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I didn't reply, my throat too tight with fear. He lingered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over me like he was sizing me up, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.
The door closed with a soft click, and I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
Emilia cleared her throat, drawing my attention. "You should do as he says," she murmured. "It's easier that way."
She pointed to a dress hanging on the back of the door. It was simple, the fabric soft and flowing. I stood slowly, my legs unsteady beneath me, and crossed the room to retrieve it.
As I changed, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The walls seemed to close in around me, the weight of silence pressing down on me. When I finally turned to face the mirror, I barely recognized the girl staring back at me. The dress fit perfectly, but it did nothing to hide the hollowness in my eyes or the sharp angles of my face.
Emilia smiled faintly. "You look lovely."
I didn't respond. Lovely wasn't a word I recognized anymore. It seemed distant, foreign, like something I had lost a long time ago.
Moments later, Lorenzo returned. His gaze swept over me, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression. Approval, perhaps?
"Come," he said curtly. "We don't have all day."
I followed him in silence, my heart pounding with every step. The mansion was a labyrinth of hallways and doors, each one leading to a mystery I wasn't sure I wanted to uncover.
As we descended a grand staircase, I couldn't help but steal glances at him. He moved with purpose, his every step deliberate and confident. There was something undeniably intimidating about him, something that made my skin crawl and my stomach churn. And yet, I couldn't look away.
When we reached the bottom of the stairs, he finally spoke. "Do you know why you're here?"
I shook my head, unable to form a coherent answer. Fear wrapped around my throat, making it impossible to speak.
"You're here because I chose you," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "That means you belong to me now. Do you understand?"
Belong. The word cut through me like a blade, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. It was final, definitive, and something in me rebelled against it. But there was no escaping it.
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak. What was the point?
Lorenzo stopped abruptly and turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. "I don't tolerate disobedience, Daisy. If you want to survive here, you'll follow my rules. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
He held my gaze for a moment longer before nodding. "Good."
We continued down another hallway, the silence stretching between us like a chasm. I couldn't help but wonder what he wanted from me, what his plans were. But the answers wouldn't come easily.
As we entered a large, lavish room, I felt my stomach drop. The space was filled with men, strangers with cold eyes and predatory smiles. Lorenzo's presence seemed to command their attention, and I realized with a sinking feeling that he wasn't just a man of wealth. He was a man of power.
"You'll stay by my side," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I nodded, my heart racing as I struggled to keep my fear in check. Whatever this was, whatever he wanted, I had no choice but to obey.
For now.