Four days before her mother's death, Aria's world had already begun to crumble.
She didn't remember warmth, nor kindness. Only demands, orders, and chains disguised as duty.
She had been forced to work.
A fragile girl thrown into a world of cruelty.
No one had cared about her trembling hands, her soft sobs at night. The world was ruthless. Her family—if she could even call them that—had sold her fate before she even knew what life truly meant.
And now, her mother was gone.
Yet the nightmare had only just begun.
The mansion Aria found herself in was a place of wealth and sin.
Tall, looming halls whispered secrets with every step. Gold chandeliers hung from ceilings so high they seemed to touch the heavens, yet the air smelled of something rotten—something dark.
And Aria, standing in the middle of it all, was like a delicate flower trapped in a field of thorns.
She was beautiful.
Unfairly so.
Her long, wavy hair cascaded down her back, as dark as the night sky, shimmering like silk under the dim candlelight. Her deep, dark eyes were like pools of mystery—a gaze that could bring even the cruelest men to their knees.
Her skin was soft, pale, and smooth—the color of delicate pink roses kissed by the morning sun. Her cheeks held a natural flush, a childish roundness that made her seem innocent… untouched by the filth of the world.
A porcelain doll.
Too beautiful. Too pure. Too fragile.
And that fragility was dangerous in a place like this.
Everywhere she walked, eyes followed.
Men.
All of them.
Some of them servants, others powerful figures dressed in fine suits.
Their gazes lingered, devouring her beauty with silent hunger.
Some whispered. Others smirked.
She could feel it.
The weight of their stares. The quiet lust behind their admiration.
She hated it.
She hated it.
Her hands curled into fists, but she was too small, too weak to stop it. Even her hands—small, delicate—looked as if they were never meant for labor, but for love.
Yet, love had no place here.
"Aria," a sharp voice snapped.
She flinched, her heart racing as Liana appeared at the top of the grand staircase, looking down at her with cold amusement.
"You were told to work, not to stand around being admired."
Aria's jaw clenched.
Liana smirked, slowly descending the steps. "What a shame," she murmured, running her fingers through Aria's long, silky hair. "Someone so beautiful, yet so… powerless."
Aria stiffened.
Liana chuckled. "Be careful, little doll. A place like this? Beauty is both a blessing… and a curse."
A door at the end of the hall opened.
A man walked in.
Tall. Powerful. Dangerous.
And the moment his eyes met Aria's, something inside them shifted.
A slow, dark smile spread across his lips.
And Aria knew—
Her nightmare was far from over.
It had only just begun.