"Why did you buy me?"

The question was soft, unsure and shaky, but it might as well have been a punch to the gut.

My eyes locked with Ruth's in the rear view mirror, she looked away immediately, shrugging like this was my problem only. Though technically, it was.

"I wanted you." My reply was vain and shallow, but it would have to do.

"But you didn't fuck me last night. Did I do something wrong?" The innocence in her voice was choking, like a rope wrapped around my throat.

"You didn't....don't do that again. That's not why I took you." The car window rolled down, the streets of Chicago flying by in a blur, the calm breeze hitting my face.

"But, that's what I'm for."

"And that's not why I took you." My knuckles paled from how hard my fist clenched. She leaned back, like she was trying to fade or blend into the leather seat of the car.

Her eyes were fixed on my clenched fists, glassy and somewhat wide. "I'm not going to hit you, Ariella." The pain of my nails digging into my palm gave way to relief when my fist unclenched.

The car drove to a halt at the entrance of the estate. A tall golden gate stood, connected to the concrete wall that went around the white, illuminated mansion where my whole life was based. Even through the gates the sound of the angel fountain that stood right infront of the golden steps attatched to the front door still rang in my ears

The gates parted, giving way for the car to drive in. Ariella was still pressed firmly into the seat when the car parked, sitting still and staring at her palms even after me and Ruth stepped out of the car.

Moving to the other side of the car, my hand closed around the handle of the door, pulling it open. She startled, looking up at me. "Come out, we're here."

She stepped out of the car keeping her head down. A warm hand wrapped around my wrist. She held it firmly, like it was a lifeline for her.

The guards pulled open the ivory front doors as we climbed the few steps to them. Ariella loosened from my side with every guard we approached. The tension never left her body and she didn't release my hand, but at least we were getting somewhere.

As soon as we were in though, the shrill shriek that greeted us though sent Ariella right back to the trembling being she'd been last night.

My head raised to the direction of the voice at the top of the spiral twin stairways that stood in the end of the waiting room, plain otherwise for the exotic paintings that hung from the white walls. My mother raced down, her gaze fixed on Ariella. Towards the bottom of the stairs she nearly slipped, her heels bent on the brown polished tiles, tangling into her silk red maxi dress. She barely managed to catch herself on the golden railings.

"Mother, stop running. You'll hurt yourself." My voice felt tight.

Her grey eyes glistened with unshed tears, ignoring me she approached Ariella. The girl was still pressed into me, peaking slightly at my mother. It would have been cute if it wasn't already so fucking heart breaking.

"Is this...really her?" Her voice shook, fingers trembling as they cupped Ariella's cheek gently. "Ella? It's really you." Her

"She's still in shock. We're not sure if it's her, but we'll take her to the hospital tomorrow, and make sure." Ruth chirped, eyeing me with her lips pursed.

"Is that even necessary?" My mother finally broke, pulling Ariella into a hug and running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, I'm sorry." Ariella's eyes were wide, her hand squeezing my wrist slightly.

"Oh, my little girl. What did they do to you?" Mother sniffled, holding her tighter. "It's ok. It's all over now. Let's get you settled."

"Where's dad?" His absence shouldn't have been a surprise to me. To think he would have jumped at the chance to see his possible missing daughter was just wishful.

"Your father had something to handle on short notice. Perhaps I should place a call to him? Let him know of your arrival." Ruth said, already reaching for her phone.

"Have the maids bring her things to the room we prepared. The one opposite mine." My eyes still hadn't left my mother hugging Ariella.

The words she'd said to me before I went to Vegas still rung in my head. 'If there's even the slightest chance that my little girl is alive, is living in some filthy brothel, you bring her back home to me. Bring her back and destroy the people who took her.'

As Ruth walked out giving orders to the maids, my mother finally released Ariella, using her fingers to brush her hair, her eyes raised to mine, smiling shakily. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Killian."

An ache built in my chest. My mother hadn't given me that much recognition since Stella went missing. The one bond we still shared apart from blood had been our obsession with finding Stella. And now there was a chance that it was gone.

My mother led her to the twin stairs, taking the one on the right to the bedrooms. Ruth shuffled back to my side, holding an old green backpack.

"That's all her stuff?" Not exactly shocking at this point.

"Yes sir. We can get her some clothes after we confirm she's truly miss Morozcov."

My eyebrows drew together into a frown. "We'll get her something regardless of the outcome. Give me the bag." Ruth's lips parted as she handed me the bag. The memory of my mother's relieved, overjoyed face echoed in my mind. "I need to go upstairs to check on them. Tomorrow's test...whatever the results are, let's just keep it to us, ok?"

"Sir, with all due respect, what are you asking me to do?" She eyed me warily.

"I'm saying that if she really isn't Stella, that information stays between us, not a soul more. Am I understood, Ruth?"

"I won't say a word to anyone boss." She said, stepping away from me. "Not a soul."

The lady was crazy. As soon she escorted me into this room, all doubt of her sanity vanished. She was insane.

That was the only logical explanation for the woman currently gesturing hysterically at the decor of the room.

"So do you like it?" Her smile seemed so out of place on her pale face, her eyes stained with runny mascara and her tears. The purpose of her crying still eluded me.

Taking in the beautiful room, from the Queen sized bed filled with enough pillows to build a palace, to the human sized windows that occupied the wall opposite the front door with a red seat attatched to one. Everything was beautiful. "Ma'am I think you..."

The bronze door pushed open, interrupting me as Killian strode in, holding my tattered backpack which ruined his look with his crisp suit hugging his muscular frame perfectly. "Don't overwhelm her mum. She doesn't need to know the origin of every ornament in this room."

The woman, Killian mum apparently, chuckled. "I'm just so excited. It'll be dark soon, but I just want to stay here forever."

She moved forward, and my waist pressed into the wooden, honey colored chest of drawers from the instinctive step back.

"She's definitely tired after that trip. I know you're excited mum, but maybe we should get her settled first?" The echo of his steps faded once he stepped onto the plush wine rug that took up the majority of the floor, towards his mum.

"Oh, how foolish of me. You must be starving, let me go and check if the chefs are done cooking." She rushed towards the door, leaving me alone with Killian.

My eyes roamed him, searching for any sign that he was angry or about to harm me in any way. It was inevitable, but it didn't hurt any more to be prepared.

Rather than raging at me for leaving him for his mom though, he placed his hands behind his back, stepping forward, eyes locked to mine. "There's something important I need to discuss with you. Preferably after mother has calmed down."

"Um..did I do something wrong, sir?" Whatever it was, if he couldn't discuss it infront of his mom then it had to be bad.

"No, you haven't done anything. And I've told you, don't call me sir." He pressed two fingers to his temple, sighing deeply.

"Sorry sir..er, I mean Killian. Mr Killian? Mr Morozcov?"

"Killian is fine. Listen I_"

His mother's high pitched voice cut him off, ringing in my ears like a Chinese gong as she stepped in. "Ella dear, I'm not sure what you like now but when Killian told me you were coming I had the chefs make a bit of everything."

"Mother we'll join you soon, I just need to speak with her for a moment."

"You've had hours to do so. Whatever you want to discuss can wait." She cupped my cheeks, then scrunched her nose like my scent mimicked that of a decaying rat. "Preferably you should clean up first, while the maids set the table."

"Ok." She ignored my respose, glancing at Killian instead.

"You should get cleaned up too. Go downstairs when you're done. I'm going to help her get cleaned up."

Killian nodded, frowning slightly as he left the room. That wasn't exactly an unusual sight, in the short time since we met, smiling was a rarity for him.

"The bathroom's over there, I'm going to get you something you wear. Leave your dress in the basket by the door." She pointed to a bronze painted door a few feet from the chest of drawers. She hesitated a bit before releasing my hand, then she was gone.

This whole family was weird, but that lady was exceptional. She kept acting like her was her long lost daughter or something. And how she knew my name was beyond me, after all even Killian had asked when he took me from the brothel last night.

The bathroom door pushed open as my hand turned the knob. The interior was quite similar to the bathroom in the hotel, only clearly more expensive and maintained.

The yellow sundress fell of my frame, followed by my underwear and sandals, leaving me entirely bare. Goosebumps rose on my skin when the warm water of the shower made contact with it.

My questions seemed to have doubled since we got here. Mrs Morozcov's reaction my arrival only fueled my confusion. Her son brought home a literal prostitute. Not exactly a mother's dream surprise.

Perhaps she didn't know, but still, killian had to have told her something.

Every logic seemed to only result to more questions, and zero answers.

Ten minutes and a hot shower later, my feet brushed against the rectangular shaped rug in front of the bathroom door.

Mrs Morozcov was already there, sitting on the duvet of the queen sized bed. "You're done?"

Nodding, my eyes drifted to a beautiful navy blue, knee lenght dress laying next to her.

"OK, I'll just leave you to get dressed then." She smiled her eyes welling up with tears once again. "I still can't believe Killian brought you home."

"What?"

"Even after all these years, he made sure to bring my daughter back." She pulled me into a tight hug. "I know it's been so long, but I promise the men who did this will suffer. And you'll never have to worry about a thing again, Stella."

The clicking of her heels already faded out of the room and down the hall before her words sink in, and the questions doubled.

"Did she just call me her daughter?" Saying it out loud only led to another head pounding question.

Who the hell was Stella?

A knock frightened me out of my thoughts. Killian stood outside the room, leaning on the doorframe, hair damp, his suit swapped out for a black low cut shirt. At this point, he might as well have been allergic to color on his skin.

"Before you go down, we need to talk." His adam's apple bulbed. "I know you're confused. But there's alot I need to tell you."

Understatement of the decade. Nonconsensual sex in an illegal brothel is comprehendable to me. Being mistaken for a Mafia family's daughter is not.

"A few years ago, my sister went missing. She was kidnapped by my family's opposition and sold to a trafficking ring. The same one that took you probably when you were also a child. You look like her." His biceps flexed as he crossed his arm. "Or at least what I assume she looks like. Plus, up until you told me your name I really thought you were her."

"That's why you bought me." Panic settled in my throat. The urge to lie scrapes at the back of my mind, but the consequence thwarts the idea. "I'm not her.."

"Maybe. I can't be sure until you're tested tomorrow. If your blood isn't compatible to mine then this really was for nothing."

My chest squeezed. For nothing. He could send me back. He would, as soon as he was certain that Stella wasn't me. "I know there has to be something I can do for you. Even if I'm not your sister, this doesn't have to be for nothing."

My knees buckled and he lunged forward, arms wrapping around my shoulders to balance me. "Please don't send me back there. Please, I'm begging you." The memories of blood spilling every night still clouded my brain. Sometimes my own, sometimes not. My lip quivered.

My knuckles fisted into his chest desperately, clinging to him like a lifeline. He hadn't seemed like the kind of person to do that, but there was also the fact that he was in the goddamn mafia.

"Ariella calm down I wont_"

"Don't sell me either. Please." My fingers released his shirt slowly, pushing off him. My body trembled, barely able to stand alone. Tears that didn't dare fall burned my eyes.

"I want to make a deal with you." His words cut through my minor panic attack. My racing heart felt like it had come to an abrupt halt.

"A deal?"

"Yes. I'll tell you more once your identity is confirmed. If you're my sister, it won't even be necessary. But first, are you completely sure that your name is infact Ariella?" His serious tone cut off my shortlived relief.

"It is. For as long as I can remember." My answer was like a ghost, whispered and forgotten.

"And how long is that?" His arms crossed again, over his chest, pulling down the fabric slightly and revealing a peak of his muscled chest.

"I don't really remember much. My whole life has always been...Well, you know." The tears pushed even more, only my sheer stubbornness keeping them at bay. "Maybe when I was 9 or 10, I don't know. But Ariella is what I've always been called."

Grunting, he lowered his hands to grip my chin, forcing my head up to face him. "You look so much like her. I almost can't believe I let myself believe..."

His eyes slammed shut for a second before he stood straight, composing himself and building back his barriers.

"What about your mum?" The words felt like an execution order against my tongue. "She thinks I'm her daughter. She'll be furious when she finds out the truth."

"You mean if there's truth to find out." Killian cut me off, his frown light.

"You don't actually still think that I'm Stella. That's_" my lips slammed shut before any more words could escape. It was well within his power to still get rid of me. And pissing him off would do no good to me once this cloud of denial finished raining over his head.

"Insane?" An eyebrow raised on his chiseled face. "Tell me something, Ella. Do you remember your life before you became a prostitute."

The malice in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. How my answer came out without a stutter was a mystery to me.

"I dont know. I'm not sure." The point of the argument was almost impossible to believe. The fact that I'd dared to argue with him was even more unbelievable. But there was no positive end or gain from lying.

"Yes or no, Ariella." His tone was calmer, more in control. But thay didn't make him any less dangerous.

My head hung, eyes fixed to the ground as the first tear finally slipped. "No. I don't."

There had been blurs. Frames of memory from my life as a child, but it felt like my mind had sealed them away from me, protecting them from the horror of what had been my reality.

Every memory of my childhood were of Motel rooms or some wealthy man's bed.

"So there's still a chance." He really was delusional.

"If there was, I'm sure something would've triggered my memory. This house, this room, your mom. You. Any memory at all."

His eyes shifted to the door, staring through it for a second. "Again, you'll be tested tomorrow. If you're not Stella, we'll come to an agreement."

My lower lip dropped, a question on my tongue. All the lessons that had been beaten into me since childhood had been thrown out the window in one afternoon. It was still a mystery what this man was fucking capable of, and questioning him was already a huge step out of place. My lips sealed back shut.

"You have a question?" His fingers slipped from beneath my chin, the warmth lingering on the skin.

"What agreement? And what about tonight? Your mum."

Shrugging, his whole posture seemed completely unbothered by that obstacle. Then again, he wasn't the one at risk here.

"Just play along. I'll keep her from asking too many questions. You can go straight to bed after dinner and we'll leave here at dawn." That said, he walked back towards the door.

"Wait. Play along? How?" His words were so nonchalantly infuriating.

"Improvise." His foot crossed the threshold, and before my mind could piece together another thought, he had walked away.

The choice to be made seemed clear. There weren't exactly alot of options to work with.

My steps out of the room felt heavy. The safety of the bedroom called to me, the hallway felt almost suffocating. And the modern paintings that hung from the white walls felt almost like judgemental eyes boring into me.

But there was only one more direction, and that was forward.

With a resigned sigh, I got to him just as he reached the stairs, matching his slow unhurried pace.

As we reached the bottom of the stairs though, Killian froze, fists clenched.

Standing at the door, an older version of him stood, wearing a black suit and carrying the same dark aura as Killian.

"Killian, son. You really found her? You brought my daughter home."