Kimberley POV:

I opened my eyes to find myself in a strange room. Dark but surprisingly well ventilated. It took me time to adjust to the new environment, I finally did but,..

Where am I? My pulse quickened. Suddenly, Memories of yesterday rushed in like a flood.

“My father!”

I wanted to scream, but my voice caught in my throat. Then, I heard it…a deep, commanding voice cutting through the stillness.

“Never! Never do more than I send you!”

“Who is that?” I held my breath, straining to listen.

“He was proving stubborn... getting in my way.” Another voice, shaky yet defiant, wavered as if someone were being choked.

Their conversation was muffled, words bouncing around like distorted whispers. Something about “D'Bon”... and “go ahead.” But I couldn’t fathom it.

“I never asked you to kill him!” The first voice rumbled with anger. Silence followed, thick and unbearable.

A sickening thud echoed, followed by a sharp hiss that made my neck prickle.

“Bury him,” the voice commanded coldly.

Fear surged through my veins, my hands trembling. Panic tightened its grip around my chest.

“Slave trade…” The thought slithered into my mind, unbidden. I had read about it, mafias dealing in human trafficking. Was this how my life would end? Reduced to a number, a transaction, someone’s property?

After what felt like ages, the doorknob twisted, the sound echoing in the silence.

A man entered, his eyes sweeping over me like I was an object to be appraised. His gaze locked on mine, cold and expressionless. I felt the heat of my anger.

“Bastard,” I spat.

“Stand up.” His voice was steady, dangerous.

“For what? Take me back to my father!”

“There’s no time for this. Even Cinderella had a deadline. Follow me before you make things worse for yourself.”

“Worse? Can anything be worse than this?” I asked sarcastically.

“Now,” he commanded.

“No.” My defiance echoed in the room.

He moved toward me, the steps calculating like the one from the night before, the memory is rushing back, is this trauma or something?

Suddenly, he lifted me and started moving towards the door.

I remember that feeling, “he carried me… I wanted to scream… but I couldn't, I was weak!

I didn't even try screaming anymore, I sank my sharp teeth in his neck, like a vampire ready to suck some sweet blood.

He hissed, then threw me to the floor. I landed hard, but a brief moment of triumph surged through me until a sharp slap landed across my face.

My ears rang. Tears welled in my eyes. His nails had left a tear on my cheek which was likely to scar.

“Follow me,” he repeated, voice so harsh.

This time, I obeyed.

We stepped out of the building. A car was already waiting. The monster who had stopped me earlier accompanied me as we entered the vehicle. The driver silently drove off.

The landscape was serene and breathtaking, the kind only the ultra-wealthy could afford. It was a view to admire, but fear churned in my gut, my mind spinning with possibilities of what awaited me.

When the car finally stopped, it was in front of a huge mansion. I couldn’t help but marvel at its grandeur. Majestic and intimidating, it was a palace for the powerful, not a place for someone like me.

“Get down,” the man beside me growled.

Inside, luxury deepened, every detail designed to intimidate.

“Mo?” the man I now recognized as ‘Beast’ called out sharply.

A small woman appeared almost instantly, bowing slightly.

“Yes, sire?”

Her eyes flicked toward me but she lowered it instantly.

“Prepare her. Don's coming tonight,” he said curtly, then disappeared down a hallway.

I swallowed hard. “Don?”

The woman was quiet and efficient, her expression a locked door. There was something about her, like even with a knife at her throat, she wouldn't betray a word. So I let her do what was needed.

Soon, I was dressed in a modest knee-length gown. The perfume she sprayed over me was cloying. My skin crawled with each spritz.

“If this Don thinks I'm going to be his plaything, he's in for a shock.” The defiance burned in my chest but was laced with dread.

She led me to a dining room. A lavish spread awaited on the table, but my eyes landed on the man sitting at the head. The Don.

He sat with perfect posture, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His sharp features and cold, piercing eyes gave him an air of quiet dominance, as if he controlled the room without uttering a word.

He looked up, his cold gaze meeting mine. “Join me,” he said flatly, gesturing toward the seat across from him.

I crossed my arms, standing my ground. “Who are you?”

For a moment, he just looked at me, then returned to his plate, scooping scrambled eggs onto his fork. “Your master,” he said nonchalantly, as if that settled everything.

“I’m not sitting. And I’m certainly not eating.” My voice rose, fueled by anger and desperation. “If you think you can just abduct me and make me your sex slave, you can go to hell!”

He stood up slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. With measured steps, he walked toward me, his presence suffocating.

His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You're in my domain, and I rule here. I am the master, and I make the decisions. Don’t dare defy me.”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. His voice was the same one I’d heard earlier that day.

He moved closer, reaching for the food, urging me to open my mouth. I turned away defiantly. But that’s when he noticed it.

The bruise.

For the first time, I saw his expression shift into something I couldn't decipher.

Leonardo POV:

I gently brushed a strand of her deep, red hair away, its softness warm beneath my fingertips. I couldn’t help but wonder how much care it took to keep it that way. My gaze softened as I looked at her, unchanged from six years ago.

How could she forget? Forget that she was the one who had pulled me from the brink of death.

My gaze darkened as I examined a tear marring her skin. It looked fresh, like a brand from a fire.

"Who did this to you?" I asked, my voice low and cold, surprising even myself with the intensity of my concern.

"Who did this to her Enzo?" I barked at my henchman, a muscle-bound guard I had assigned to keep an eye on her.

"She was stubborn, Don," he replied, his voice trembling slightly under my scrutiny.

The realisation hit me like a bullet. Enzo had laid his hands on her.

In a flash, I was at Enzo’s side, pinning him against the wall with a force that reverberated through the room. “For the second time today, Enzo, you defied my order!” His action ignited something primal within me.

I knew Enzo would be surprised by my rage over a woman, but even I couldn’t grasp the depths of my own feelings.

I heard her whimper softly as I tightened my grip on Enzo. “Such a weak one,” I muttered under my breath, the words dripping with disdain.

“Why? Does it matter?” I heard her voice, defiant yet fragile, as I finally released Enzo but not without giving him a deadly glare, a silent promise of his impending punishment.

I turned back to her, brow furrowed, my expression a mask of authority. “I mean…” she continued, the bravado returning to her voice, “I’m less valuable now? With a scar, I’m worthless. So, maybe you can just take me back to my house?”

She pouted, the expression a mix of defiance and intelligence, “as if she could barter for her freedom with mere words.”

But I beat her to it.

“You are right.” I replied slowly, taking a deliberate step towards her, eyes narrowing as I watched her expression shift from triumph to uncertainty.

“Whether you’re useful or not is for me to decide,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. I relished the way her smile faded, replaced by a flicker of fear.

“This is my domain. I am the master here, and I make the decisions.” I stepped closer, the space between us crackling with tension. She needed to understand the hierarchy.

“I never asked to be in your goddamned domain,” she shot back, her voice sharp and filled with rage.

“Take me back to my house!” she screamed, the defiance ringing in the air like a challenge.

My lips tightened, fury boiling within me. No one dared to raise their voice against me, let alone defy my orders.

“What is your name?” I asked, my anger barely restrained.

She rolled her eyes, turning away from me, dismissing my authority.

I slammed my hand on the table, the sound reverberating like a gunshot.

“I ask the questions here, and you answer! Is that understood?”

Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked them away, determined not to show weakness.

“Your name?” I demanded again.

“Kimberly,” she replied quietly, almost defeated.

“Good.” I poured myself a glass of juice, savouring the moment.

“Please let me go,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper.

I looked at her, my gaze distant, as I took a slow sip. “You can go.”...

“Don?…” I heard Enzo call from behind, concern etched in his features.

“Th… Thank you…” she gasped, turning to leave, hope blooming in her eyes.

“At the expense of your brother.” I finished my statement, the weight of my words hanging in the air.

Kimberly stopped dead in her tracks, the shock evident on her face. “You know my brother?” she asked, her voice tinged with desperation.

Enzo moved closer, showing her footage of her brother, doing rehearsals in a lit studio.

“He has eyes on him,” I told her, satisfaction curling my lips. I watched her demeanour shift, her bravado wilting as reality settled in.

I approached her, bending down to her level, my voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m your master, and you will listen to me.” Each word dripped with authority.

“The moment you mess up, your brother dies.”

As I turned to leave, I saw her sat back, dejected, as if the weight of my words had crushed her spirit.

Just as I reached the door, her voice sliced through the silence.

“My father… Did you even bury him?”

Her words hit me like a punch. “Did you even bury him?” Five simple words, but they tore through me like a storm.

I didn't let it show, as I ignored her question and made my leave.

******

I stood in front of my father, Anger building up inside me.

“Stop being ungrateful, Leonardo,” my father’s voice rang in my ears, firm yet calculated. “Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”

“Killed her father? How is that for me?” I shot back, anger boiling in my chest.

I clenched my fists, the familiar fire igniting. “You didn’t have to kill him and put her through that!”

My father’s eyes narrowed, his tone shifting to something more dangerous. “You think you know better than me? You think you can protect her on your own? They will come for her, and I hope you are ready.”

“That's for me to worry about! Don’t get involved in this,” I warned, my voice low and threatening.

“The last time I didn’t get involved, your mother died. You think I would make the same mistake?”

My face hardened, the mention of my mother reopening an old wound. We stood there, locked in a silent standoff, the tension thick enough to slice.

His words sank in like knives, my heart pounding. “That was different.”

The threat was subtle, yet I felt its weight. Without another word, I turned and stormed out, the door slamming behind me, echoing my rage.!

CHAPTER 4

Kimberley POV:

I woke to sharp sunlight streaming through the window, forcing my eyes open. Disoriented, I blinked against the brightness. How had I fallen asleep so deeply? I scolded myself—this is unlike me.

A knock came at the door, and before I could respond, it opened. I tensed, bracing myself for the "Don"—the one whose name I didn’t yet know. But the voice that greeted me was female.

“Good morning, ma’am,” she said curtly. “I’m Helen. I’ve been assigned as your personal maid.”

I looked up, my relief barely contained. At least she was younger, with a face that seemed capable of a smile, unlike the stern, older woman who had attended to me yesterday.

“Mr. Fiore requests you come downstairs. He’s expecting you,” she continued. “I’m here to get you ready.”

"Mr. Fore?" I muttered, almost too loudly. "What sort of name is that?"

She stiffened slightly. "Fiore, ma’am," she corrected quickly, then added, “Please, let me help you prepare.”

She looked chatty, eager even, but I swallowed my questions. There’d be time to earn her trust. For now, I needed to keep my thoughts to myself—until I could use her to learn more about the monsters holding me here.

I slid out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, Helen following close behind.

“Don’t,” I said, cutting her off as I reached the doorway. “I don’t need your help here. Just lay out the clothes.”

The bathroom was enormous, easily larger than both my father’s sitting room and kitchen combined. I caught myself comparing the two spaces and immediately pushed the thought away. What good would it do to dwell on what was behind me? My fingers shook as I ran the bath.

By the time I returned, Helen had placed a light floral gown on the bed—a strapless dress paired with a jacket. It was delicate, soft. Strangely beautiful, given the circumstances. I changed silently and followed her downstairs, every step weighed down by thoughts of escape. My eyes roamed, searching for exits, but no clear path emerged.

In the sitting room, I found him. Mr. Fore or whatever sat at the end of the room, reading a newspaper, And I wondered who still reads newspapers these days.

I stood waiting for him to speak.

He finally acknowledged my presence and dropped the newspaper. He lowered the paper and glanced at me. His gaze swept from my dress to my face, unreadable.

“Our wedding is in three days,” he said flatly. “You’ll go with my sister and Enzo to the bridal mall and get yourself a wedding dress.”

I blinked. "A wedding? In ninety six hours?"

“You're not here to plan Kimberley, You're here to marry” He said curtly.

The words sank into me like a stone dropped into dark water. I was about to be bound to a man I loathed, a man who’d taken everything from me.

And your sister?" I asked instead.

"She'll be here by evening."

I made a mental note to be overly nice to his sister, then I will plan an escape or something to just get out of this madness.

I just hope his sister isn't just like him. But I can't stretch my luck, she might just be as evil

He rose from his chair, the movement slow, deliberate. “Don’t play smart, Kimberly. You won’t get far.”

His warning lingered in the air as he walked out, leaving me standing there, helpless.

I couldn’t escape—yet. Not without knowing where I was, how this house worked. First, I needed to learn its layout.

I was going back to my room, I found Helen waiting by the doorway. An idea sparked.

“Helen, how long have you worked here?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Thirteen years, ma’am,” she said, bowing her head slightly.

Perfect. A seasoned servant would know every corner of this mansion.

“Could you give me a tour of the house?” I asked, feigning interest. Desperation edged my voice, but Helen didn’t seem to notice.

“Of course, ma’am. It would be my pleasure.”

She led the way, As I followed her down the grand staircase, my eyes darted to the windows, the doors. Every route a potential escape, if only I had the chance.”

My eyes scanning every room, every hallway. The mansion was enormous, each turn more extravagant than the last. But I saw no hidden doors, no promising exits.

Helen was nice, and a good guide. Showing me places. The mansion was big and we were soon tired. I don't know if it's worth it, 'as I didn't see any "secret door."

Guess I would just have to try to find a way myself. Alone.

I was soon hungry, Helen brought my food to my room after I had a shower. But the sight of the food made my hunger disappear.

How could I eat? My brother was in their grasp, my father dead—had they even buried him? I didn’t know. Was anyone mourning him? And here I was, forced into a marriage with the very man who had destroyed my life.

I stared at the untouched food, my mind spiralling deeper.

I remember The office. Elicia. The debt. Everything. I couldn’t even tell how long I’d been lost in thought until Helen returned to call me for lunch as Mr Fiore requested for my presence. Her eyes flicked to the uneaten breakfast and back to me. She sighed softly, though she tried to hide it.

“I’m not hungry,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

It doesn't have to do with the food," I tried assuring her. "I'm just not hungry."

"Can't he eat alone," I sighed.

Helen retreated sluggishly, looking scared. But I didn't care.

A moment later, the door creaked open again.

I froze.

He was standing there. Mr. Fiore. His eyes swept over me, taking in the sight of me wrapped in only a towel as I had not changed into any cloth since my last shower.

His gaze lingered for a moment too long, and something in his expression shifted. His jaw tightened, his Adam's apple bobbed.

Hey!" I screamed. He stood in the doorway, watching me, as if weighing a decision. Each step he took toward me felt deliberate, like a predator circling prey. My hands flew up, instinctive, protective. 'Don’t touch me!' My voice cracked with panic.

He paused, clearly not expecting my outburst. His movements slowed, the predatory glint in his eyes dimming.

“Get dressed,” he said coldly. “My sister is downstairs.”

And then, just as abruptly as he came, he turned and left.