It was bright red against the dark fabric of my skirt, pooling on the floor beneath me. My eyes widened in horror, panic seizing my throat with a grip tighter than any hand.

"No," I whispered, the sound barely audible. Then, louder, a desperate keen escaped my lips. "No, no, no!"

"My belly..." I gasped, tears springing to my eyes as I looked up at them, begging for help despite everything they had done.

"It hurts so bad. Please... help me."

"She's bleeding!" Sereia shrieked, taking a step back, her face paling. The cruelty vanished from her expression, replaced by genuine shock. "Could something be wrong?"

For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of hesitation in Allysia's eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold, hardened resolve. She crossed her arms, lifting her chin in the air.

"Nothing is wrong," Allysia stated flatly. "And besides, her life is worthless anyway. If she loses the bastard child, it's probably for the best. One less mouth for the school to feed."

My heart shattered at her words. How could anyone be this heartless?

"And besides," she continued, her voice taking on a defensive edge, "if it weren't for my dad's kindness, how could she still be in this college after everything she has done?

She should have been expelled months ago. We're doing a favor to her."

She looked at Dominic and Sereia, who were still staring at the blood. "You know what? We can't have her screaming. The guests might hear."

She reached into her school bag and pulled out a length of rough rope and a dirty rag. She had prepared for this already.

My stomach churned with renewed terror.

"Take this," she ordered, shoving the items into Dominic's chest. "Gag her mouth with the rag. And use the rope to tie her hands and legs. I don't want her screaming, and I certainly don't want her escaping before the ceremony is over."

"But Aly, she's bleeding" Sereia started to protest.

"Did I stutter?" Allysia snapped, her eyes flashing. "Do it. Now."

Dominic didn't hesitate. He grabbed my arm, yanking me up from the floor. The pain spiked again, and a cry tore from my throat, but he didn't care. He was rough, manhandling me as if I were a sack of potatoes. I tried to fight back, gathering every ounce of strength I had left. I kicked out, my leg connecting with Dominic's shin, but he barely flinched.

"Hold her still," he growled at Sereia.

Sereia grabbed my shoulders, pinning me against the cold wall. I was trapped. I looked at Allysia, who was watching with a bored expression, checking her watch.

"Please," I choked out, the tears streaming down my face now, mixing with the sweat of pain and fear. "I'm begging you. Help me. Save my baby."

I slumped forward, unable to stand on my own, and wrapped my fingers around the hem of Allysia's uniform skirt. I clung to it like a lifeline.

"Help me! Save my baby!" I sobbed.

Allysia looked down at me with pure disgust. She kicked my hand away, the impact of her shoe sending a jolt of pain up my arm.

"Let go of my leg," she spat. "You're filthy. Don't touch me."

She stepped back, smoothing her skirt where my hand had been. "Don't block our way. We have to go and welcome the great CEO of the Vanguard Group Company. We don't have time for your theatrics."

She turned to the other two. "And you two, what are you still doing? Do what I asked you to. Tie her up. And when you're done, lock the door. Don't let her out until the VIPs are gone. I don't want her ruining the mood."

With that, she turned and walked out of the storage room.

Dominic threw me to the floor. I landed hard, and the breath was knocked out of me again. He grabbed my wrists, forcing them behind my back. I struggled and screamed, but he was too strong. Within moments, the rough rope was biting into my skin, knotting my hands together behind me.

"Stop moving, you slut," he grunted in my ear.

Next came my legs. They bound my ankles together tightly, restricting any movement I might have tried. I was helpless, a trussed-up animal waiting for slaughter.

Finally, Sereia stepped forward, the dirty rag in her hand. She looked at me, and for a split second, I saw pity in her eyes.

But then the evil in her won her quickly as she shoved the rag into my mouth and tied it tightly behind my head.

The taste of it filled my mouth, silencing my pleas. I could only make muffled grunts now.

They stood up, looking down at me one last time. I was lying on my side, blood still pooling beneath me, my hands and feet bound, my mouth gagged. I must have looked pathetic.

"Let's go," Dominic said, wiping his hands on his pants as if touching me had soiled him.

They walked to the door. Sereia looked back once, her hand hovering over the light switch.

"Leave it," Dominic said. "Let her rot in the dark."

He flipped the switch, and the room plunged into darkness, save for that single, high beam of sunlight.

The door closed for the final time. The lock clicked.

"I was alone."

The silence was deafening. At first, there was nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing through my nose and the pounding of my heart in my ears. Then, the pain came rushing back like a tide.

I lay there on the cold floor, tears rolling down my cheeks and soaking into the dirty rag gagging me. I shifted my weight, trying to ease the pressure on my belly, but it was useless. I was too weak. The struggle had drained the last of my energy.

I patted my stomach gently with my bound hands, the awkward angle making it difficult.

Baby! I'm sorry, I thought, the words screaming in my mind. Mommy is so sorry! I failed you. I should have fought harder. I should have run away.

I tried to sit up, to roll toward the door, to bang on it and make noise, but my limbs felt like lead. The dizziness was overwhelming, a black fog creeping at the edges of my vision. I had lost too much blood. I could feel it, the coldness seeping into my bones.

I can't let you die, I thought desperately. You have to see this world. You have to have a chance.

I managed to roll onto my side, facing the beam of light. My eyes caught a glint of color on my wrist. It was the bead bracelet I wore. Made of wooden beads and a single, distinct glass bead in the center.

I stared at it now, my vision blurring, watching the way the sunlight caught the glass, turning it into a tiny star against my skin.

"Where are you?" I whispered in my mind, the thought floating disconnectedly. "Are you still in this world? If you're still out there... if you exist... Please come save me. Save our baby."

A fresh wave of tears broke through the dam of my resolve, hot and stinging against my cold face. I was delirious, talking to a bracelet, imagining that a stranger from the past could hear my silent scream. It was the desperation of a drowning woman clutching at straws.

But as I looked at the bracelet, an idea sparked in the haze of my pain. It was faint, a flicker of hope in the encroaching darkness, but it was there.

I drew my knees up as best as I could with my ankles tied, maneuvering my bound hands toward my wrist. It was awkward and agonizing. My shoulder screamed in protest, and every movement sent a fresh jolt of pain through my abdomen, but I gritted my teeth against the gag. I had to try.

I hooked the rough rope binding my wrists against the string of the bracelet. I pulled, sawing the rope back and forth against the delicate cord.

"Snap. Please snap."

I grunted, sweat beading on my forehead as I worked. I felt the cord stretching, the fibers straining. I thought of the baby.

"My unborn baby, whom I couldn't risk letting die."

With a sharp ping, the string gave way.

The sudden release sent my hands jerking back, but I didn't care. The bracelet fell loose. I watched, breathless, as it tumbled from my wrist and hit the concrete floor.

"The sound was deafening in the quiet room."

"Click. Click. Click."

The beads scattered. Some wooden ones rolled away into the shadows, while some skittered across the floor with a frantic energy. It hit the wall, bounced, and rolled toward the small gap beneath the door.

I held my breath, my eyes straining in the dim light. I watched it roll, mesmerized. It was a message in a bottle, a desperate signal sent out to sea.

Please, I prayed, my heart hammering against my ribs. Please let someone see it. Let someone walk by. Let someone wonder why a piece of wooden bracelet is coming out from an old storage room.

"I waited."

I lay there, staring at the bead, listening for the sound of footsteps outside. I strained my ears until they rang, but I heard nothing, muffled sounds of the school.

They won't come, a voice in my head whispered. Everyone is at the front of the campus waiting for the guest's arrival. No one comes back here. You're going to die here, Aurora.

You and the baby both.

"No!" I screamed internally, fighting against despair. "Someone will come. They have to."

"Time seemed to lose its meaning."

The dizziness returned, stronger this time. The edges of my vision began to darken, narrowing down to a tunnel focused on that single bead under the door.

I tried to keep my eyes open. I tried to focus on the light, but my eyelids were so heavy. It felt like weights were attached to my lashes. The black fog swirled around me, whispering promises of an end to the pain.

Just close your eyes, it murmured. Just for a minute. Then you'll feel better.

"Help."

I mouthed silently, the word forming on my lips but having no voice to carry it.

Then, the darkness swallowed me whole, and I knew nothing.

The morning light filtered through the windows of my penthouse, but it did little to warm the cold, atmosphere of the room.

I sat on the edge of my bed, the silk sheets sliding off my frame, staring at the reflection in the vanity mirror. The man staring back was a stranger to most, a titan of industry, a name that caused stock markets to fluctuate with a single word, and a face that graced the covers of Forbes magazine more times than I could count.

But to me, he was just a man carrying the weight of an empire on his shoulders.

I stood up, stretching the stiffness from my limbs. My home was vast, a sprawling expanse of modern architecture and expensive art, yet it echoed with a profound silence.

I headed to the bathroom, a space that felt like a world of its own, private, and comforting. I pulled off my top and stepped inside.

I turned on the shower, and water cascaded gently over my body, running through my curly hair and down my skin.

I took my time, letting the warmth relax me completely. After a while, I finished bathing, reached for my bathing suit, and stepped out. I dried my body slowly, still enjoying the soothing feeling the water had left behind.

I walked into my walk-in closet, a room larger than most people's apartments, and began the ritual of armoring myself for the day. Today was not a day for relaxation; today was about appearances, about maintaining the image of the Vanguard Group company.

I selected a suit from the rack. It was a Tom Ford piece, deep midnight black, tailored to perfection to hug my frame. I slipped on the trousers first, the fabric cool against my skin, followed by a crisp white dress shirt that I buttoned up to the collar. I chose a tie of silk, black with a subtle geometric pattern, and knotted it with practiced precision. Finally, I slipped into the jacket, smoothing out the lapels.

I sat back down to put on my shoes, Italian leather oxfords, polished to a mirror shine. As I tied the laces, I caught sight of my hair in the mirror. It was curly, unruly at times, but I kept it tamed and styled, framing a face that my publicist described as "ruggedly intellectual."

My skin complexion was golden, a testament to my heritage, and my eyes were dark, often described by the media as "fearless." They were eyes that had seen negotiations turn sour and deals collapse, eyes that never blinked first.

I stood up and adjusted my cuffs, checking my reflection one last time. I looked the part. I looked like a man who owned the world. But as I applied my signature cologne, a scent of sandalwood and spice I felt nothing but a hollow sense of duty.

I walked out of the closet and headed for the bedroom door. The hallway was silent, lined with artwork that I rarely had time to appreciate. I reached the grand staircase, a sweeping structure of marble and glass that descended to the main living area.

I didn't walk down it leisurely. I descended with a purpose, my footsteps echoing sharply against the stone. The rhythm of my gait was steady, a cadence that matched the ticking clock in my mind. I was a man of frequency and precision; everything I did had a reason, a timing, and a place.

"Sir, your breakfast is ready," I heard my cook, Corvina, say.

"No, I won't be having breakfast today. I have something important to attend to, and I'm running late."

"Okay, sir," she said, nodding her head.

As I reached the bottom landing, my security team was already waiting. They were a silent, imposing presence in black suits, earpieces coiled around their ears, eyes scanning for threats that would never dare to manifest here.

"Good morning, Mr. Alexander Mark," the head of my security, a man named Marcus, said with a curt nod.

"Marcus," I replied, not breaking my stride. "Is the car ready?"

"It's waiting in the driveway, sir."

I walked out of the front doors, the cool morning air hitting my face. The driveway was lined with luxury vehicles. Sitting there, purring with a low, aggressive idle, was my Rolls-Royce Phantom.

It was a beast of a machine, a symbol of opulence and engineering excellence. It was painted in a deep, metallic charcoal that seemed to absorb the light around it.

Marcus moved ahead, opening the rear passenger door with a gloved hand. I nodded to him as I approached, sliding into the cool, leather-clad interior. The door closed with a solid, reassuring thunk, sealing me away from the outside world. The interior smelled of new leather and that distinct, expensive scent that only a car costing half a million dollars could possess.

He closed my door and walked around the car before opening his own. He settled into the front passenger seat while the driver, Ethan, adjusted himself and prepared to start the engine.

"Good morning, sir," Ethan said as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Good morning," I replied absently, my attention fixed on the files I was reviewing.

The engine came to life, and moments later, we drove away from the penthouse.

The drive to St. Jude's College was relatively long, so I checked my watch, a limited edition Patek Philippe. I was running slightly ahead of schedule, which was rare. I usually preferred to be late, a power move that kept people waiting, but today, I felt an odd urge to get this over with.

The donation was a PR stunt, nothing more. A few buildings to secure a tax write-off and some positive press for the Vanguard Group. I had no particular affinity for the institution. It was just another transaction in a life filled with them.

As the car turned onto the avenue leading to the main gate of the college, I heard it before I saw it. A low, rhythmic roar that grew louder with every second.

"It wasn't an engine. It was a crowd."

The Rolls-Royce slowed as we approached the imposing iron gates of the college.

Students were lining the road, standing five or six deep behind the temporary barricades that had been set up. They were holding signs, waving, and craning their necks to get a look. As my car rolled through the gates, the roar exploded.

"Mr. Alexander! Mr. Alexander!"

I kept my expression neutral, unreadable. This was the part I hated the most: the adulation of strangers who didn't know me, who only knew the brand.

The car finally came to a stop at the base of the grand staircase that led up to the administration building. Before the car had even fully settled, my security detail was in motion. Two guards stepped out of the trailing SUV and took up positions by the rear door of my car, while the others formed a perimeter.

"Marcus stepped out in a rush and opened the door."

I stepped out into the chaos. The flash of cameras was blinding, a strobe light effect that threatened to give me a headache before the day had even begun. The screams of the female students were piercing, a wall of sound that washed over me.

"Oh my god, he's even hotter in person!" "Look at those curls!" "Mr. Alexander, over here!"

"I ignored them all."

I adjusted my suit, smoothing the front of my jacket, and looked straight ahead. My face was a mask of cool indifference.

Waiting at the top of the stairs was Principal Miller, Mr. Miller. He was a man of medium build with a thinning hairline and a smile that looked a little too desperate to please. He was practically vibrating with excitement as he descended the steps to greet me, his hand extended.

"Mr. Alexander! Welcome, welcome to St. Jude's College!" he exclaimed, his voice booming as he tried to compete with the crowd. "It is such an honor to have the CEO of the Vanguard Group company gracing us with your presence."

I took his hand, giving it a single, firm shake before releasing it. "Principal Miller," I said, my voice deep and level. "Thank you for having me.

"We've prepared a full tour," he continued, undeterred by my brevity. "The students are ecstatic. The news about you donating several buildings to the school has spread all over the campus like wildfire. You're now a celebrity at St. Jude's College, sir. A true hero to our academic community."

He gestured to a banner hanging from the administration building that bore my face and the words:

"THANK YOU, MR. ALEXANDER MARK."

"We've already put up your name and photo on display in the main hall," he rattled on, sweat beading on his forehead despite the cool morning air.

"The press is ready for the photo op, and the student council president is prepared to give a speech in your honor"

"Rattling all day," I cut him off, my tone sharp enough to slice through his monologue.

Mr. Miller stopped mid-sentence, blinking rapidly.

"I... I beg your pardon?"

"All that fanfare," I said, gesturing vaguely at the banner, the cameras, and the screaming students. "The principal can save it for someone else, but not me. I didn't come here for a parade. I don't need any of that."

I stared down at the watch on my wrist, tapping the face of it lightly. "I am here to sign the documents, verify the building plans, and leave. I have a lot of things to do, Principal Miller. My time is valuable."

The smile on his face faltered, cracking slightly to reveal the anxiety underneath. He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Understood... understood completely, Mr. Mark," he stammered, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to dab at the sweat glistening on his forehead. "Of course. We don't want to waste a titan's time. I apologize for the... exuberance. We will skip the ceremony. I have the papers ready in my office. Right this way."

He turned abruptly, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to lead the way. I fell into step behind him, my security detail flanking me like a moving wall. We walked through the throngs of students, the parting of the sea instantaneous. The noise level dipped as I passed, a hush falling over the crowd followed by a renewed wave of whispers and shutter clicks.

I kept my eyes forward, my expression unreadable, but my mind was already drifting, calculating the ROI of this trip, analyzing the architectural flaws of the buildings we were passing. It was just another day in the life of Alexander Mark.

We entered the administration building, the noise of the outside world instantly muffled by the heavy oak doors.

Mr. Miller led the way down a corridor lined with oil paintings of past principals, his footsteps echoing hurriedly against the marble floor.

"My office is just ahead," he said, his voice echoing slightly.

I didn't respond. I simply walked, my polished shoes clicking rhythmically on the floor. I was about to ask him to hurry up when a sound pierced the silence.

It wasn't loud. In fact, it was barely a whisper. But in the dead quiet of the hallway, it might as well have been a gunshot.

"My belly..."

I stopped walking.

Straining to listen more carefully, wondering if I was mistaken.

The voice sounded familiar.

Mr. Miller noticed I had stopped. He froze, turning back slowly, his face pale. "Mr. Alexander? Is everything alright? Is the temperature to your liking?"

I held up a hand, silencing him. I tilted my head, straining my ears. There it was again. A voice, weak, and muffled by wood and distance.

"It hurts so bad... Please help me."

My brow furrowed. The voice... It was hauntingly familiar. It stirred something in the back of my mind, a memory I couldn't quite place. It wasn't a voice I expected to hear in a place like this.

"I'm not here to sell myself, I promise you sir. I just want to save you and nothing else."

I turned sharply and stared at the principal. "I think there's someone in that room," I said, pointing toward the door where the voices were coming from.

Allysia had told me they had locked that girl in the storeroom. If Mr. Alexander ever found out there was a student corrupting the school's reputation, the donation would surely go down the drain. The thought made him break into a sweat, which he quickly wiped away.

Mr. Miller's face went from pale to ghostly white. His eyes widened in horror, and he took a step toward me, blocking my path to the door. "No, Mr. Alexander, you must be mistaken. That... that is the old storage room. It has been abandoned for years now. We store old books and broken furniture there. It's nothing but a junk room."

He laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound that grated on my nerves. "The acoustics in these old buildings are terrible, you see. You're probably hearing echoes from the cafeteria down the hall, or perhaps students outside. There is no one... no one is there."

"He lied."

I nodded, about to walk away, not because I believed him but then I heard another sound coming from inside.

I stopped again when I noticed beads rolling out from under the door.

Came to a stop right close to my feet.

I bent down and picked one up between my fingers, studying it closely. It reminded me of someone, and suddenly it hit me.

"She's the one."

I whispered to myself.

I shoved the bead into my pocket without waiting or giving my security any orders, I lunged toward the door, with them rushing after me.

"Mr. Alexander, there's no one in there," the principal called out, but I was no longer in the state of mind to listen to another one of his lies.

"I ignored him completely."

When I reached the door, I found it locked. Without wasting time, I stepped back slightly, shifting my weight to my left leg against it. The door broke open instantly.

"CRACK."

My security team froze, their hands hovering over their weapons, unsure of the threat. Mr. Miller let out a small, squeaking whimper.

"I didn't look at them."

I stepped over the broken threshold, into the darkness of the storage room.

My eyes adjusted to the gloom. The room was cluttered with stacks of old books and broken chairs, shoved haphazardly against the walls. But in the center of the floor, there was a clearing.

"And there she was."

She was lying in the center of the floor unconscious, her body covered in blood.