THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW

Sera stirred awake to cool air pricking her skin, the sheets soft and crisp against her arms. She pushed herself up, a sharp sound slipping out before she could stop it.

"Shit-why is it so dark... oh." She pressed a hand to her forehead, fingers tracing the ridge of her brow as a bitter smile touched her lips. "Right. I'm blind."

She opened her mouth to speak again when a laugh rang out-warm, with a hint of mischief that made her purse her lips.

"W-Who are you? Where am I? The man who brought me here-what happened to him?"

"Calm down, my dear. Can't you recognize my voice?" The woman cut in, her laughter settling into gentle warmth.

Sera furrowed her brow, confusion knotting in her chest. How would I know her voice when I've only heard it once, in the chaos of that day?

"I-I'm sorry. I can't see you, so... I don't recognize you." She spoke carefully, fingers twisting in the sheets-cool cotton, smoother than anything she'd ever owned.

"Oh... of course. That was thoughtless of me."

Sera focused on the room around her: faint movement to her left, the soft rustle of fabric, a scent like lavender and old books. Then warm hands closed around hers-firm but gentle, palms rough with calluses from work or age. She flinched, trying to pull back.

"W-What are you-"

"My dear... I owe you more than I can ever say." The woman squeezed her hands, her grip steady. "If not for you, I wouldn't be here now."

The words hit Sera hard, sending a jolt through her shoulders. Recognition flooded her mind, and her eyes widened behind closed lids-even though all she saw was black.

"You're the woman from the van. The one they took." She gasped, and the older woman chuckled, a low, rich sound.

Relief lit up Sera's face, and she squeezed the woman's hands back, her fingers finding the ridges of scars on the back of the older woman's knuckles.

"Are you okay? How's your side-did the wound heal? Did they catch the ones who did it?" Questions tumbled out one after another, and the grandmother's expression softened-though Sera couldn't see it.

She really is something, the grandmother thought, her gaze lingering on Sera's earnest face. After everything she's been through, she asks about me first.

Her eyes drifted to the doorway, where her grandson leaned against the frame-one leg crossed over the other, arms folded across his chest. She could feel the weight of his stare, cold as winter, even as he pulled out his vape and took a slow hit. She tilted her head slightly, a silent Told you so passing between them. He exhaled a thin cloud of mint-scented smoke, his eyes never leaving Sera.

"Grandma? Why aren't you answering? Are you hurt again?"

The grandmother turned back, giving Sera's hands another squeeze.

"I'm perfectly fine-all thanks to you." She reached up to cup Sera's cheek, her touch light as a feather. "But because of what happened to me, you lost one of the most precious things a person can have."

Sera shook her head, her voice steady and clear. "No-never say that. I chose to help you. You didn't do anything wrong."

A wide, genuine smile spread across her face, and even in the dim light, it lit up the room.

"I'm really okay, I swear. The doctors said my sight will come back-eventually."

"Even so, I know how hard this must be." The grandmother's voice grew quiet. "When? How long will you have to live like this?"

Sera fell silent. The question landed deep in her chest-she had no answer, no timeline to hold onto.

"I-I should go home." She spoke carefully, her fingers still twisted in the sheets. "If you want to pay me... please don't waste money on me. Everything's so expensive now-even a piece of candy costs more than it used to." Her words were earnest, free of greed. She'd acted out of kindness, not for reward-she hadn't the faintest idea if this woman was rich or poor.

The grandmother opened her mouth to respond when her grandson stepped forward, his voice sharp as broken glass.

"Go home? Have you already forgotten your family sold you to that governor?"

Sera froze, her body going rigid. The memory crashed over her-her mother's slap, the sound of cash counting, the governor's oily hands on her arm.

She bit her lip so hard she tasted copper, dropping her head. Words stuck in her throat, her thoughts spinning into chaos.

"And you bought me from them." Her voice was barely a whisper, fear creeping back in. "So aren't you going to do the same thing? Like you said in the car?" It felt like nothing had changed-she was just property traded from one stranger to another.

Before panic could take hold, the grandmother pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close. "Don't be scared, Seraphina. We will never hurt you-never let you suffer here."

"H-Huh?" Sera pulled back slightly, bewildered. How does she know my full name?

The grandmother stroked her back, her voice soft as silk. "You have nothing to worry about. My grandson and I will take care of every single one of your troubles. Until your sight returns, he'll look after you-make things easier however he can."

"I still don't understand-"

"This is the only way I can thank you, Sera." The grandmother cut her off gently. "I won't give you money-you've made it clear you don't want that. Instead, I'm offering you a chance to build something better. And you need to accept it-this is your only real choice."

Sera was speechless, staring into the dark as her mind raced. Should I say yes? Something felt off-why would this man, this stranger, care for her? What did he want in return?

Could he really mean it? That I'm supposed to be his wife?

She bit down on her lip, hard. The grandmother was right-her family had cast her aside like trash. This might be her only shot at stability. But trusting strangers felt like walking off a cliff with her eyes closed.

"C-Can I think about it first?"

The words were barely out when a loud CRASH echoed through the room-Lucian had slammed his fist on the side table, sending a glass of water rattling.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Don't tell me you're actually thinking of going back to those leeches!" His voice boomed, raw anger lacing every word.

He couldn't make sense of his own frustration-watching her hesitate, knowing she might choose to return to people who'd used her their whole lives. She was so gentle, so willing to forgive... it made him want to shake some sense into her.

"Brat!" The grandmother snapped, her brow furrowed.

But Lucian didn't care. He needed to cut through her kindness, make her see the truth.

"You're too damn nice for your own good. They've been using you all along, and you let them! Are you really that naive? Maybe losing your sight was the only way to make you see how they treat you. For fuck's sake-how can you be so-"

A pillow flew across the room and smacked him square in the face.

He stood frozen, staring at the spot where Sera sat-shocked silent. Did she just throw a pillow at me?

"Why are you shouting?! I'm not deaf!" Her voice cracked with irritation. "You're yelling like you're through a megaphone, and I'm just trying to talk!"

Both Lucian and his grandmother stared at her, stunned. Then the grandmother burst into peals of laughter.

"Oh my God-you're perfect!" She cackled, wiping tears from her eyes.

Sera flushed, embarrassment warring with anger. She'd thought the older woman would be upset-but instead, she sounded delighted.

"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, fidgeting with the edge of the sheet.

The grandmother quieted, looking at her with warmth in her eyes. She didn't speak, but Lucian knew exactly what she wanted-don't tell her yet.

"Enough of this." Lucian waved a hand toward the door, where a man stepped inside, the thick folder under his arm rustling with every step. He set it on the table, the paper crisp and heavy, and took a seat across from them.

Sera tensed, sensing the new presence-the faint smell of ink and cologne, the sound of his breathing, steady and calm. Who is this?

"Ms. Mortez. I'm Attorney Chavez." The man's voice was smooth and professional. "First-do you truly intend to return to your family?"

Sera's breath hitched. An attorney? Why is there a lawyer here?

"I-I don't know."

The three of them exchanged glances. "This is a chance you won't get again," the attorney continued. "Are you really going to turn it down? Would you rather struggle while the people who sold you live off the money they got for you?"

The question twisted in her chest, her thoughts a tangled mess. She couldn't see the faces around her, couldn't tell if they were being honest-all she had were their words, their voices, the weight of their presence in the room.

She stayed quiet, lost in thought, until the grandmother placed her hand over hers on the table. Sera felt the stiff texture of paper beneath her fingertips-official, final.

"This is a contract," Lucian said, his voice low. "It outlines how we'll protect and support you, as repayment for what you did for my grandmother."

"A contract? Do we need that?" Sera whispered, confusion clouding her mind. "What for?"

The attorney cleared his throat and began to explain-the terms, the care they'd provide, the life they were offering while she lived under their roof. But what Sera didn't know was that the words on the page held a secret she never could have imagined.

This wasn't just about repayment. The contract bound her to be Lucian's wife-in name, at first, but with a condition neither of them would speak aloud: he needed an heir.

From the start, fate had kept her in the dark-her blindness leaving her unaware of everything around her. But even if she could see, she never would have guessed the truth: the man who'd bought her freedom wasn't just a wealthy businessman.

Lucian Vitale was a high-ranking member of the Bratva-the most powerful mafia organization in Russia.

THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW

"Let me help you with that-"

The slap landed hard across Lucian's face, sharp enough to sting and silence him in one motion. Nothing like this had ever happened to him-not from a woman, and certainly not one smaller than him, her frame delicate but held rigid with defiance.

He clicked his tongue, his gaze sweeping over her again. Her right hand braced against the wall for balance; her left hung frozen in the air, still carrying the force of her strike. Defenseless, yes. Weak? Not by a long shot. One wrong move from him would send her crumpling to the floor-and yet she'd found the nerve to fight back. A rare breed, indeed.

"You're a prideful little thing, aren't you, Seraphina?" He ran his teeth over his lower lip, his eyes tracking from her flushed cheeks down to her bare feet on the cool tile. "I offer you help, and you have the gall to slap me for it."

A smirk played at his lips as he leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He couldn't look away-not from the way soft light caught the curve of her shoulder, not from the fire in her stance even as she trembled. She was beautiful in a raw, unpolished way that made his blood run warm.

"I can undress myself. I'm blind, not paralyzed... sir." The steel in her voice hit him square in the chest, and something like admiration flickered through him. Her fighting spirit shone through even as she tried to wrap it in polite words.

"Oh? Is that right?" He tilted his head, his tone laced with challenge. "Then prove it. Walk into the bathroom. Show me you don't need me for a single thing."

Sera straightened her spine, chin high. "And if I do?"

"Then I'll never offer to help you with something like this again." His voice was light, teasing-but his eyes tracked every shift in her posture, every small adjustment as she found her bearings.

Everything had gone according to plan until moments ago. As expected, Sera had signed the contract-believing it was just for shelter and care while her sight recovered. But the Vitale family never played fair; deception ran in their blood. That document was more than an agreement-it was a marriage license, binding her to him legally with no ceremony, no fanfare. Buried in the fine print was another clause: she would bear his heir. His grandmother's doing, of course.

Lucian had never taken women seriously-they were distractions, diversions, background noise while he built his empire. Love, marriage, domesticity-none of it mattered to him. He had more money than he could spend, businesses thriving across the globe. That should have been enough.

But for his grandmother, it was never enough. So here they were: him, staring down a woman who had no idea what she'd signed up for, and her, about to prove just how stubborn she could be.

His focus snapped back as Sera began to move, her fingers brushing along the wall as she found her way into the bathroom. He followed, his gaze fixed on every careful step.

She needed to bathe-his grandmother had ordered him to see to her comfort. But they'd gotten stuck on the simple matter of undressing.

It was obvious she was still adjusting to her condition. Not born blind, forced into darkness overnight-he could only imagine the disorientation, the struggle to map a space she couldn't see. Most people would have given in, asked for help without hesitation. Not her.

He watched as she lowered herself to the floor, her hands moving slowly over her clothes, feeling for buttons and seams. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't look away.

Her skin was warm brown, glowing under the soft light-neither pale nor dark, but truly and fully her. Chestnut hair fell past her shoulders, framing her face. Her body was neither too full nor too thin; every curve, every line felt right.

A low whistle escaped him as she pulled her shirt over her head. Even seated, her shape was impossible to miss-but she was too thin, her ribs just visible beneath her skin. Abuse from her family, he suspected. She'd need filling out.

Her top half was bare now, save for her bra. Next came her pants. She stood slowly, and he noticed her hands were shaking. Good, he thought. Let her struggle. Let her break and ask for me.

He watched like a predator tracking its prey, his eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin. Her body was incredible-soft and curved and his, whether she knew it yet or not. He waited for the moment she'd crack. But it never came.

She didn't ask for help. Why? Pride? Or something deeper he couldn't quite name?

SERAPHINA'S POINT OF VIEW

My heart hammered against my ribs as I worked at the button of my pants, fingers trembling from cold and nerves. I couldn't see him, but I felt his stare-heavy, hot, pressing down on me like a blanket I couldn't shake off. I knew I shouldn't let him watch me like this, but what choice did I have? We'd be living under the same roof, and the contract said he was supposed to help me adjust to being blind.

I must have lost my mind when I signed that paper. Help from him? A man I could barely stand to be in the same room with? It wasn't right for a stranger to touch me, to help with something as intimate as undressing. And why had his grandmother insisted he be the one to care for me?

Finally, the zipper slid down. I pushed my pants off without hesitation, even as awareness of him burned at the back of my neck. I couldn't see him, couldn't chase him away-so I'd just have to endure.

I reached for the wall again, my fingers tracing its cool surface as I tried to find my way. But the bathroom was bigger than I'd guessed. Where was the sink to set my clothes? The toilet? The shower with its soaps and warm water?

I sighed, long and heavy. My pride could only take me so far.

"Lord, please let this be okay," I whispered to myself. Then, louder: "Are you still there... sir?"

"Yeah. Need something?"

I bit my lip, frustration flaring. Even his voice sounded like he was holding back a laugh. But I had to stay calm-I had no idea how many months I'd be stuck with him.

"I... I need help." The words were dragged from my throat, rough and bitter.

But silence answered me. No footsteps, no movement-like he'd frozen in place, just watching.

"Damn it! Did he leave me here?!" I hissed, turning toward where I thought he'd been standing. "He thinks I can't do this? I can! I can handle it, you bastard!"

I furrowed my brow and took another step, hand still on the wall for balance. Three steps in, I collided with something solid-but it didn't feel like plaster or paint.

"Another wall? Why didn't he tell me there was another wall?" I grumbled, gripping the surface in front of me. But something was off. It was warm. And there was a hard, long shape pressing against my stomach-what kind of wall had that?

I ran my fingers over it, and my blood turned to ice. This wasn't a wall. It was him.

I stumbled backward, feet slipping on the wet tile-but strong arms caught me before I could fall. Even blind, my eyes went wide with shock.

I could feel the hard lines of his body against mine, heat radiating from his skin. And that thing pressing into my stomach...

"W-What is that?! Is it... wood?!"

A low laugh rumbled through his chest, sending shivers down my spine. His lips brushed against my ear, his breath warm and dangerous.

"That's my hard cock."

"Asshole?!" I shrieked, my whole body going cold. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this-for his crude words, for the way his body felt so solid against mine.

I tried to push him away, but he only laughed harder, holding me steady.

"Relax. I have no intention of using it on you. You're not my type-too skinny, not pretty enough. Not even close."

"Then why don't you let me go so I can punch your face?! If I could see you right now, I'd tear you apart-even your nose holes would get an earful!" I panted, words tumbling out in a rush of anger.

I straightened up, ready to pull away-but his hand stayed on my arm. I wanted to snap at him, but I needed his help. So I bit my tongue and stayed still.

He guided me to the edge of the tub and helped me sit, then stepped back. The sound of his footsteps faded.

"I'm getting cold... just give me the soap and shampoo. I can manage from here." I called out, but no answer came. Instead, I jolted as cold water poured over my head and streamed down my skin.

"I said I'd do it myself!" I gasped-the shock of the water sending strange shivers through me. I'd never felt anything like it-unexpected, intimate, unsettling.

The water cut off, leaving silence in its wake. I strained to hear him, but there was nothing-until a hand touched my side, slick with soap.

A soft, broken sound escaped my lips before I could stop it. I clapped a hand over my mouth, heart racing so fast I could barely breathe.

His fingers moved slowly along my ribs, his touch light enough to make my skin prickle. I could feel my pulse thrumming everywhere-at my wrists, my neck, between my legs.

But I wasn't the only one affected. Behind me, Lucian stood rigid, jaw tight, lip bleeding where he'd bitten it too hard. He was fighting a battle he'd never seen coming.

For fuck's sake, he thought, his body tight with need he'd never felt so sharp. This is impossible.