Isabella's Point Of View
When I got downstairs, Alex reached into his pocket, pulling out my phone, which I hadn't realized he'd taken. My heart sank as I saw the screen light up with another call from my mother. I made a desperate lunge for it, but he held it just out of reach, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
"You won't be needing this," he said, switching off the phone and slipping it into his pocket. "Not until you've worked off your debt."
"What?" I gasped, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. "No, Alex, please! I need to talk to my mother. My brother,he's sick! I can't stay here. They need me!"
He sighed, as though dealing with a tiresome child, and shook his head. "Your family will manage without you for a while. You, on the other hand, have much more important things to focus on. Like making yourself useful around here."
His words struck me like a physical blow, and I felt a hot flush of shame and anger. How could he be so cruel? So indifferent to my pain? But as much as I wanted to scream, to fight back, I knew I was powerless. In this world of wealth and power, I was nothing. Just a girl who had made a terrible mistake.
"I'll make this simple for you," he continued, his voice laced with a cold edge. "You work for me now, Isabella. You'll pay off every cent of what you owe by serving in my house. Consider it your penance for breaking something far more valuable than you'll ever be."
I could barely breathe as his words sank in. My mind raced, trying to comprehend the nightmare that had become my reality. I was trapped. The realization was suffocating, and tears welled up in my eyes, but I blinked them back, refusing to let him see me break down.
"How long?" I asked, my voice trembling. "How long will I have to stay?"
He tilted his head, pretending to consider it. "That depends on how well you perform your duties. If you work hard, keep your head down, and don't cause any trouble, you might be out in a few months. But cross me again, and your stay could be much, much longer."
I swallowed hard, trying to keep the fear from overwhelming me. I had no choice but to agree. I had to survive this, for my family's sake.
"Fine," I whispered, barely able to get the word out. "I'll do it. I'll work for you."
"Good girl," he replied, his tone patronizing. "Now, get to work. And remember, Isabella, I'll be watching."
The next few weeks passed in a blur of exhaustion and numbness. I was assigned to the lowest tasks in the household, cleaning floors, washing dishes, and scrubbing bathrooms. I didn't complain, didn't argue, just kept my head down and did what was asked of me.
The work was hard, but at least no one beat or tortured me. The staff treated me with a distant politeness, as though I were just another part of the furniture, something to be seen but not acknowledged.
Despite the grueling tasks, I ate well. Meals were provided for all the staff, and though I was always too tired to fully appreciate the food, I was grateful for the sustenance. It gave me the strength I needed to get through each day.
But the worst part wasn't the physical labor,it was the isolation. Alex had taken my phone, and with it, my only connection to the outside world. I had no way of reaching my mother, no way of knowing how Maeto was doing.
I could only imagine their worry, their fear as days turned into weeks with no word from me. I prayed that somehow, they would be all right, that they wouldn't think I had abandoned them.
One evening, after a particularly long day of cleaning, I was summoned to Alex's office. My heart pounded in my chest as I approached the door, unsure of what to expect. I knocked softly, and his voice called out for me to enter.
"Isabella," he finally said, setting the papers aside and leaning back in his chair. "I've been hearing good things about your work. The staff tells me you've been quite diligent."
I nodded, unsure of what to say. I didn't trust his sudden change in demeanor.
"I appreciate that," he continued, his voice smooth but with an undercurrent of something more sinister. "But you know, there's always room for improvement."
My stomach tightened as I waited for him to elaborate.
"You see," he said, rising from his chair and walking around the desk toward me, "I've been thinking about your situation. About how much you owe me."
He stopped just inches away from me, his presence overwhelming. I forced myself to meet his gaze, though every instinct told me to look away.
"You've been working hard, Isabella, but it's not enough. The vase, the money,it was a lot, and I think you're going to need more time to pay it off."
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He smiled, a cold, calculating smile that made my skin crawl. "It means, my dear, that your stay here is far from over. In fact, I might just keep you around for a while longer. You're proving to be quite useful."
My hands clenched at my sides, but I knew there was nothing I could do. He held all the power, and I was completely at his mercy.
"Now," he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from my face, his touch making my skin crawl, "go get some rest. You have another long day ahead of you tomorrow."
I turned and left the room, my heart heavy with despair. As I made my way back to the small room that had become my prison cell, I couldn't stop the tears from falling. I had lost everything,my freedom, my family, my future. And the worst part was, I had no idea when, or if, I would ever get it back.