Lucy lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft glow from the lamp cast long shadows on the walls. The room was quiet, but her mind wasn't. Barry's words from earlier echoed again and again.

"You're mine, Lucy."

"I want you close."

"You'll belong to me. Only me."

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, her heart heavy. The air felt thick, like it pressed down on her chest. She wanted to scream. To cry. But she just lay there, frozen. Her eyes burned from holding back tears.

'Why me? she thought. I never asked for this. I don't want this life. I don't want him.'

Her fingers clutched the blanket tighter. She let out a shaky breath and shut her eyes. Forget it, she told herself. Just sleep. You'll figure it out tomorrow. Slowly, the weight of the day pulled her under, and sleep took her into its quiet embrace.

***

The next evening, Lucy stood by the door, waiting. The same guard from the night before showed up. He gave a short nod, said nothing, and led her out. The ride to the club was silent, the hum of the car the only sound between them.

When they reached Barry's Den, the noise hit her the moment she stepped out. Music thumped through the walls. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat filled the air. Lights flashed red and blue, casting strange shapes on the pavement.

Lucy walked in, her head low. She moved through the crowd like a ghost, hoping no one would notice her. But, as always, eyes followed her. Hungry, jealous, curious.

She tried to ignore them.

Later, during a break, she found herself leaning against the wall near the dressing room. Vanessa came up beside her, wiping sweat from her brow.

"You okay?" Vanessa asked, her voice soft.

Lucy let out a sigh. "I don't fit here, Vanessa. I don't belong in this place."

Vanessa leaned on the wall next to her. "I felt the same at first. You just have to be patient."

Lucy turned to her. "Patient for what? For Barry to break me down? For the girls to stop hating me?"

"For things to make sense," Vanessa said gently. "For you to learn how to survive here. That's all any of us can do."

Lucy frowned but didn't argue. She knew Vanessa meant well. She crossed her arms and stared at the floor. "I don't want to survive. I want to leave."

Vanessa gave a small, sad smile. "We all do. But wanting and getting are two different things."

The rest of the night passed in a blur of music, lights, and faces. Lucy danced. She served drinks. She forced smiles when men stared too long. Her feet hurt. Her back ached. But she kept going.

When it was finally over, Barry's man was waiting to take her back to the mansion. The ride was as quiet as before. The city lights flickered past the window like stars falling from the sky.

***

Lucy sighed with relief when she got to her room. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore feet. Her body felt heavy, her head foggy with exhaustion.

A soft knock on the door made her freeze. Before she could answer, a maid stepped in, carrying a large white box tied with a black ribbon.

"This is for you, miss," the maid said, placing the box on the bed. "From Master."

Lucy blinked. "From him? What is it?"

"A dress," the maid said. "He wants you to wear it. You're to join him for a ball tonight."

"A ball?" Lucy echoed, her heart sinking. "Tonight?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, miss. He said to be ready in one hour."

Lucy stared at the box as the maid left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She felt her chest tighten. The room suddenly felt too small. The air too thick.

She walked to the bed and slowly untied the ribbon. Her hands shook a little. Lifting the lid, she pushed the tissue paper aside and gasped softly.

The dress inside was beautiful. Soft silver silk, smooth as water, shimmered under the light. It had thin straps and a low back. Tiny beads sparkled along the hem like stars. It was the kind of dress that made a girl feel like a queen. Or a prize.

Lucy touched the fabric. It felt cool against her skin. She imagined herself wearing it, standing beside Barry, the center of attention. The thought made her stomach twist.

'This isn't me', she thought. 'I'm not a doll he can dress up and show off.'

But what choice did she have?

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress. The room was quiet except for the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Each second felt loud in the stillness.

***

An hour later, Lucy stood in front of the mirror. The dress fit like it was made for her. The silver silk hugged her curves. The beads caught the light when she moved. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. The maid had helped her with light makeup, just enough to bring out the blue in her eyes.

She barely recognized herself.

A knock came at the door. The same guard waited outside. "The car is ready," he said.

Lucy grabbed a small silver clutch that matched the dress. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and let out a slow breath. You can do this, she told herself. Just get through tonight.

She followed the guard out. The night air was cool against her skin. The car gleamed under the porch lights. Barry stood beside it, dressed sharp in a black suit, his dark hair smooth, his eyes on her.

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze moved over her slowly, from head to toe. His face was calm, but his eyes burned.

He opened the car door for her. "Come. We're late."

She slid into the seat, the silk of her dress rustling softly. Barry got in beside her, and the car pulled away.

For a while, they rode in silence. The city lights flickered past the windows, bright against the dark sky. Lucy stared out, trying to calm the storm inside her.

Barry watched her. "You're quiet."

Lucy glanced at him. "I don't know what to say."

He smirked. "That's new. You always have something to say."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm just tired."

Barry reached out and took her hand in his. His grip was firm, warm. "Don't be scared. Tonight, you're with me. No one will dare touch you."

Lucy didn't answer. She stared at his hand holding hers and felt the weight of what that meant.

'No one will touch me' She thought. 'Because I already belong to him.'

The car moved smoothly through the night, city lights casting flashes of gold and silver across Lucy's face. She stared out the window, her heart pounding and mind racing. The soft rustle of her silver dress filled the quiet space inside the car. Barry sat beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles now and then.

She wished he wouldn't touch her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see his sharp black suit, the clean lines of his jacket, the cold strength in his jaw. He looked like a king on his way to claim his crown.

"You look worried." Barry said after a while, his voice low but clear.

Lucy didn't turn to him. "I'm not worried. I'm thinking." She muttered.

"About what?" His thumb kept stroking her hand. Slow and steady.

"About why I'm here. About what this night is for." Her voice was tight, as she chose her words carefully.

Barry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're here because I want you here. That's reason enough." He stated.

Lucy bit her lip. "But what for? To be seen at your side? Like some trophy?" She asked, sadness evident in her voice.

His grip on her hand tightened just a little. "Don't say that."

"It's what it feels like." She stated.

Barry let go of her hand and leaned back, his face unreadable. "You think too much. Just enjoy the night."

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the street again. Ahead of them, another black car carried Barry's guards. She could see its red brake lights glowing in the dark.

'Easy for him to say' She thought bitterly. 'He's the one in control.'

***

When they reached the grand hall where the ball was held, Lucy stepped out of the car, and the cool night air hit her bare shoulders. The building in front of them was huge, with tall pillars and lights that made it glow like gold. The sound of soft music and voices floated out through the open doors.

Barry came around the car and offered his arm. Lucy hesitated but took it. His grip was firm, like he wasn't going to let her go. Together, they walked up the steps, their steps in time, his head held high and hers low.

Inside, the hall was even grander. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, filling the room with soft light. The floor was marble, smooth and shining. People in gowns and suits moved like shadows, voices mixing with the soft music of the string band.

Lucy felt small, out of place. She could feel the weight of every glance that fell on her as she entered with Barry. Some people stared openly. Others whispered behind gloved hands. She kept her chin up, but inside, her stomach twisted.

Barry guided her through the room, stopping now and then to greet people. His voice was smooth and almost polite. His charm, cold but powerful. Lucy stood beside him, smiling when she had to, but saying little. The air smelled of perfume, champagne, and polished wood.

Then she heard a woman's voice.

"So, where's your fiancée tonight, Barry?"

Lucy blinked. Fiancée?

Barry's face didn't change. He gave a small smile. "Not here tonight."

The woman laughed lightly. "A shame. I was hoping to meet her. You hide her so well."

Barry said nothing more, just moved on, guiding Lucy toward the long table where glasses of wine waited.

Lucy felt like the floor had dropped from under her. She grabbed a glass with shaking fingers and turned to him.

"You're engaged?" she asked, voice low but hard.

Barry didn't look at her right away. He took a sip of his drink, eyes on the crowd. "Does it matter?"

"Does it..." She stopped herself, breathing hard. "You tell me I belong to you. You say I'm yours. But you're going to marry someone else?" She asked.

Barry met her eyes at last. His gaze was cool, steady. "That's business."

Lucy stared at him in shock. "Business? You call that business? What am I then? A side game?"

He set his glass down and took a step closer, so close she could feel the heat of him. "You're mine, Lucy. That hasn't changed. That won't change. What I do for business is something else."

Lucy's heart raced with anger. Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists. "You can't have it both ways. You can't claim me and promise yourself to someone else."

"I can do whatever I want," Barry said, his voice quiet but firm. "And don't raise your voice here. Not in front of these people."

Lucy bit down hard on her lip, trying to hold back the flood of words she wanted to throw at him. She hated the way he made her feel, trapped, small, powerless.

Barry leaned in close, his mouth near her ear. "Smile, Lucy. Everyone's watching."

And she did. A small, forced smile, just enough to hide the storm inside her.

But as she stood there, pretending, she felt a chill run down her spine. The fine hairs on her neck rose. She felt eyes on her, not the polite glances of the guests, but something else. Something sharp, dark and dangerous.

She looked around, her heart thudding. The faces blurred together, smiling, laughing, drinking. But the feeling stayed. Like a weight on her chest.

Barry noticed her tense. "What is it?"

"Someone's watching me," she said quietly, her eyes scanning the room.

He frowned, his eyes sharp now. "Where?"

"I don't know. I can't see who. But I feel it."

Barry straightened, his hand resting lightly on her back. He guided her toward a quieter corner of the hall. His guards, standing near the walls, seemed to stiffen, their eyes more alert.

"Stay close to me." Barry said, voice low.

Lucy nodded, but her heart still raced. The music, the lights, the voices, they all seemed far away now. All she could focus on was that cold, crawling feeling at the back of her neck.

Barry spoke with a few men who came over to greet him, but his eyes kept moving around, watching the room, looking for the source of the danger Lucy felt.

Lucy tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath, the scent of roses and wine filling her nose. But it didn't help. The feeling wouldn't leave.

She leaned towards Barry, her voice soft but urgent. "I want to leave."

"We can't leave yet," he said, glancing down at her. "It would look strange."

"I don't care," Lucy whispered. "Please."

Barry studied her face, saw the fear in her eyes. His jaw tightened. "Ten more minutes," he said. "Then we leave."

Lucy nodded, trying to seem calm, but inside, her heart pounded hard against her ribs. She felt like everyone in the room could hear it.

The soft music floated around them, the kind that was supposed to ease your mind, but to her, it felt far away, like it came through water. The bright lights, the clink of glasses, the low hum of voices, all of it seemed distant. Her skin prickled, as if unseen eyes were on her, watching, judging and waiting.

Barry moved a step away as an older man came over. The man gave a small nod, his face polite, his smile thin. Barry's face changed in an instant. The sharp, cold edge faded, and in its place came a smooth charm, the kind that could fool anyone. His mouth curved in a small, easy smile. His eyes stayed cool, unreadable. He spoke in a low voice, too soft for Lucy to hear.

She caught the deep murmur of his words, nothing clear. The older man laughed once, a dry sound, then patted Barry on the arm before walking off.

Lucy watched him, heart tight. Barry stood tall, his suit neat, his shoulders squared. The man who had held her so close, who looked like he owned the room. She tried not to think about it, tried not to think of the woman he was meant to marry. The woman out there somewhere while he kept her tied up in his world.

He stepped back to her side, as if no time had passed at all. The music rose, gentle and sweet, and people clapped softly as a new song began. Barry's gaze met hers. For a breath, his eyes seemed to warm, but that cold edge never truly left. "Almost done," he said, his voice low.

Lucy started to answer, but just then a waiter passed by. The man moved with care, a silver tray steady in his hands. Two glasses of dark red wine sat on it, the light catching the liquid and making it shine. Small drops of water ran down the sides of the glasses.

Barry reached for one, fingers just brushing the stem.

Before she could think or stop herself, she snatched the glass that Barry was about to take. Her hand closed around the glass, and she raised it to her lips. She didn't know why she did it. Maybe she wanted to feel bold. Maybe she wanted to break the strange hold he had over her. Or maybe she just needed to do something, anything, to stop the rush of thoughts in her head.

Barry's brow lifted. His hand froze in the air. For a second, she thought he might snap at her. But he didn't. He let her have it, watching her in that calm, cold way of his. She sipped, the wine smooth on her tongue, but she barely tasted it. She braced herself, waiting for him to scold her.

But Barry just picked up the other glass and took a slow sip. His eyes never left hers. "You're full of surprises," he said rather softly.

Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but loud voices cut through the music. Across the room, two men stood close, their faces tight with anger. The mood in the room changed at once. One man shoved the other, hard enough that a chair toppled over with a loud crash.

Then it happened fast. Both men drew guns, their moves sharp and quick.

Gasps filled the air. The music stopped. Glasses clinked as people stepped back, shock on their faces. Some guests ducked, some froze, their wide eyes locked on the men.

Barry didn't flinch. His hand closed around Lucy's arm, firm but not rough. "Time to leave." he said, calm as ever, as if the room hadn't just turned into a fight ring.

He led her towards the doors. His guards were already in motion, their faces hard as they cleared the way. Barry didn't rush. He didn't look back. He didn't care about the fight behind them, not his mess, not his problem.

They stepped outside into the night. Cool air hit Lucy's face, but it didn't clear her head. Her heart still raced. Her mind still spun. Barry opened the car door for her. She slid in, her hands shaking. Barry got in beside her, started the car, and drove off.

The city lights flashed past, gold and white against the dark. Inside the car, it was quiet, but Lucy's heart wouldn't slow down. She stared at her hands. They trembled in her lap. She clenched them into fists, trying to stop it.

Barry glanced at her. "You're shaking," he said.

"I'm fine," she whispered. But she wasn't. The lie tasted bitter on her tongue.

Then the pain came. At first it was small... a tight twist in her belly. She frowned, shifted in her seat. But the pain grew. It felt like something inside her was twisting, tighter and tighter, like a hot knife cutting through her belly.

Her breath hitched. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Sweat broke out on her forehead. The city lights blurred as she doubled over a little, the seatbelt digging into her side.

Barry's mouth set in a hard line. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low but sharp.

"I... I don't know... my stomach hurts..." Lucy gasped. She tried to sit up straight, but the pain pushed her down again. It spread through her, like knives. She bit her lip, trying not to cry out.

Barry's hands tightened on the wheel. He glanced at her, then at the road. His mind worked fast, you could see it in his eyes. "What did you eat?" he asked, voice tight.

"Nothing... just the wine," Lucy whispered. Her voice sounded small, like it might break. The car seemed to shift around her.

Her head felt heavy, like it was full of water. A strange heat spread across her face. Then she felt something wet sliding from her nose. Slowly, thick and warm, it ran down to her lip.

Her fingers shook as she wiped it. When she looked at her hand, her heart dropped. Blood. Her eyes were filled with fear.

Barry's face changed. His jaw went tight. His eyes darkened as he stepped towards her. "Fuck," he said under his breath. The word felt loud in the heavy air.

Lucy heard him, but everything was starting to fade. The car spun once, then the darkness took over her.