Ivanna returned to her room with her mind spinning.

That look the prince had given her, so unsettling, so piercing, kept replaying in her head.

Why? Why would he stare at her that way? She was certain she had never met him before. She hadn't offended anyone of his status in her life. So why did it feel as though he was looking directly into her soul?

The unease began gnawing at her.

More than ever, she felt the desperate urge to contact her parents, immediately, at all cost.

Hours passed.

Ivanna refused to leave her room. She refused to eat. She refused to entertain anything connected to the palace. The more she thought, the angrier she became, and the more determined she was to shut the world out.

But the next morning, something felt off.

By the time dawn broke, Ivanna was drained, emotionally hollow, physically weak, and mentally exhausted.

Yet something felt different.

Very different.

Silence... deeper than before.

Too deep.

No footsteps in the hall.

No soft knocks.

No maids whispering outside her door, waiting for her wrath to descend.

Nothing.

No one came to check on her, not even the maids who normally stopped by to clean, bring food, or hover nervously around her demands.

The silence was... unnatural.

Unsettling.

Her room remained a mess from the night before, clothes scattered, sheets disheveled, and the sight only infuriated her further.

"These useless maids..." she hissed.

"They dare ignore me?"

Ivanna sat up slowly, her eyes scanning the chaotic mess of her room, the unmade bed, clothes thrown everywhere, food she refused to touch.

Normally, such disorder would disgust her.

But today... it chilled her instead.

"Where are those stupid maids?" she muttered.

Her voice sounded small in the eerie quiet.

Driven by annoyance with determination to give them a piece of her mind, she stormed out of her room.

...and stopped.

Because... the moment she stepped into the hallway, her irritation slowly shifted into confusion.

The villa felt... abandoned.

As though life had been drained out of it overnight.

She moved down the long hallway cautiously, a strange unease settling into her bones. Every step echoed too loudly against marble floors that should've been bustling with activity.

That was when she finally saw someone.

A lone figure seated near the living room corridor, a massive newspaper held up, covering their face.

For a moment, Ivanna felt relief, finally, someone to yell at.

"Excuse me!" she snapped. "Who are you, and where are the maids? Why is this place so deserted?"

The newspaper lowered, slowly.

Ivanna froze.

The woman behind it was no ordinary woman.

She was tall, towering, too tall for a woman, almost unnaturally so. Broad-shouldered. Strong-jawed. She should be in her mid-forties, built with the kind of musculature that came from years of discipline and training. Her aura felt like steel wrapped in silence.

For the first time in a long time, Ivanna felt genuinely... intimidated.

The woman's eyes held hers without blinking.

"And who," Ivanna whispered, "are you?"

The stranger crossed her legs with calm elegance, her posture poised and powerful.

"You must be Ivanna," she said, studying her like a puzzle.

"I am Lady Margaret. I'm the one in charge of this house now."

Ivanna's anger flared back to life.

"In charge of the house now? What does that even mean?"

"It means exactly what I said." Lady Margaret offered a cool smile.

"And since you will be staying here, you must obey the new rules. Rule number one: there are no maids. Which means you will make your own bed, cook your own meals, and carry out all basic cleaning duties."

Rules?

HER?

Ivanna's eyebrows flew up in disbelief.

Ivanna choked on her own breath.

"What?!"

Then louder, more furious,

"And who is the mad dog that came up with such a ridiculous rule?! Me? Doing chores? How absurd! And before anything else, who do you even think you are? And where is that son of a...Eugene or whatever his name is?! He needs to come out here right now or he'll regret ever-"

Lady Margaret simply smiled.

A calm, dangerous smile.

"Rule number two," she said softly, "you do not use foul language here... and you never-ever-raise your voice."

Ivanna's anger surged so violently that she didn't even think...

she simply moved.

She stormed toward Lady Margaret, arm raised, ready to deliver a vicious slap across that infuriatingly calm face.

But she never made contact.

A hand, large, calloused, and impossibly fast, caught her wrist mid-air.

The grip was iron.

Ivanna gasped, her eyes widening as she tried to yank her hand free.

She twisted, pulled, jerked...

but it was like trying to move a mountain.

Lady Margaret didn't even blink.

She simply looked at Ivanna with a lazy, unimpressed expression.

"Rule number three," she said, her voice disturbingly soft,

"you never raise your hand to strike anyone here. And if you ever attempt to hit me again... you may not live to see the next day."

Those words, calm, measured, deadly, sent cold terror shooting down Ivanna's spine.

That was when Ivanna realized something horrifying:

Margaret wasn't even trying.

No effort, no strain, no shift of muscle.

And yet Ivanna's wrist felt like it was about to snap in two.

A sharp pain exploded through her arm.

Sweat gathered instantly across her forehead as panic overtook her anger.

Then...

as casually as someone flicking away dust...

Lady Margaret released her, sending her stumbling back a few steps like discarded trash.

Humiliation washed over Ivanna in a wave so hot it burned.

Never in her entire life had anyone...anyone...handled her like that.

Not even her strictest teachers dared to touch her.

She was Ivanna Sean.

Spoiled. Revered. Untouchable.

And this... this brute had tossed her like she was nothing.

Rage blinded her.

Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest object...a flower vase, heavy and expensive-looking...from the decorative stand.

"If you want war," she hissed, "I'll gladly..."

The sound of something slicing the air made her freeze.

Lady Margaret stood holding a long, thick whip...where it came from, Ivanna didn't know.

But the cold fury in her eyes said everything.

"Rule number four," she said, her tone icy and emotionless,

"for every object you break, you will receive ten lashes."

Ivanna's jaw hung open.

"Wh-what? Who will flog me? You?" Her voice cracked with disbelief.

"This...this is insane! You're all lunatics! If Eugene is behind this madness, then someone should tell him he can forget about the marriage! I would rather die than marry a devil like him!"

Spitting fire, she stormed back to her room.

But the moment she stepped inside, the chaotic mess suffocated her.

Clothes everywhere.

Sheets tangles.

Her own scent of misery lingering in the air.

She couldn't breathe.

She fled to the next room over, collapsed on the bed, and finally...

broke.

Tears spilled fast, hot, uncontrollable.

Her pride shattered.

Her certainty dissolved.

Her world...one that used to revolve around luxury and parental affection...was crumbling beneath her feet.

How did it come to this?

How did she fall from grace to dirt so quickly?

She cried until her body trembled and her throat ached.

She screamed for her parents silently, over and over in her mind, wishing they would burst through the door and take her home.

But no one came.

Not that day.

Not the next.

By the third day, hunger clawed at her insides like a beast, dizzy spells hit her every few minutes, and she felt on the verge of fainting.

She had to eat something.

Anything.

So she dragged herself out of the room and down the silent hallway once again.

The villa was still empty of life.

Still far too quiet.

She headed to the dining room...

...and froze.

Lady Margaret sat at the head of the long dining table, silently eating a feast fit for royalty.

Rice, meats, fruits, soups...steaming, fragrant, abundant.

Ivanna's stomach growled so loudly she winced.

Margaret didn't even glance at her.

"Where... is my food?" Ivanna asked, voice hoarse.

Only then did Margaret turn her head, raising a brow.

"Are you truly this rude, or are you simply lacking brain cells?" she asked calmly.

"I told you yesterday...there is no one here for you to order around. When you're hungry, you cook your own food."

Ivanna looked at the feast again, desperate and close to tears.

"I... I don't know my way around the kitchen," she admitted in a trembling whisper she hardly recognized as her own.

"That can be fixed," Margaret replied, taking another bite.

"Today, you will begin learning to cook your own meals."

Ivanna stared at her in disbelief.

"Are you even listening to yourself? I have to learn to cook before I can eat? What kind of twisted place is this?!"

Whirling around, she stormed off...

but this time, there was no strength in her anger.

Only exhaustion.

In the kitchen, she found fresh fruits on the counter and various ingredients in the fridge.

She gathered what she could...bread, water, a few fruits, some basic snacks...and dragged herself back toward her room.

Her stomach still growled, her pride remained bruised, but at least she wouldn't collapse from hunger.

For now.

In the Process of Breaking Her...

The strange arrangement continued for several days...

each one dragging Ivanna deeper into a misery she never imagined possible.

She felt like she was slowly dying.

Her stomach constantly ached.

Her lips were dry.

Her body felt light, weak, hollow.

And worst of all...

she craved real food.

Hot food.

Cooked food.

Meals she had taken for granted her entire life.

Now?

She lived on fruits, bread, water... scraps.

Like a prisoner.

She couldn't even step outside her room without feeling her heart rattle with fear.

Between Lady Margaret's monstrous strength and that cold, merciless stare...

Ivanna's survival instincts screamed one truth:

Avoid her at all costs.

One wrong move and Margaret would break her like a twig.

By now, even Ivanna couldn't pretend not to see it.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

Whatever her parents believed about Eugene...

Ivanna was convinced it was a lie.

He didn't love her.

He didn't want her.

He probably hated either her or her family deeply.

They had fallen into a trap.

A dangerous one.

And Ivanna...

spoiled, proud, pampered Ivanna...

was paying the price for their mistake.

But even in her despair, one instinct burned brighter than everything else:

Survive.

If her parents ever realized their error, if they ever came to rescue her...

she needed to still be alive when that day came.

The Sixth Day

Ivanna woke abruptly, her senses pierced by a sharp delicious aroma drifting into her room.

Chicken.

Spices.

Fresh bread.

Warm broth.

Her mouth watered instantly.

Her empty stomach cramped and twisted until she winced.

She couldn't resist.

She staggered out of bed and followed the scent like she was hypnotized.

In the kitchen stood Lady Margaret,

the towering, muscular terror, stirring pots and flipping pans like she was preparing a royal banquet.

Ivanna swallowed hard.

Forcing herself to act indifferent, she grabbed a bottle of water from the counter and escaped outside to the fountain, pretending she had come only for that.

She sat there, hugging the bottle, trying to calm her nerves as that heavenly scent tormented her.

Minutes passed.

Hours maybe.

Finally, she re-entered the house.

Lady Margaret had moved to the dining table...

and once again, an entire feast lay displayed in front of her.

Golden rice.

Grilled vegetables.

Crisp chicken.

Freshly baked rolls.

Steaming soups.

Ivanna couldn't look away this time.

She approached the table like someone walking toward salvation.

"I'm hungry," she said.

Silence.

"I said I'm hungry!" she insisted, louder.

Silence.

Her voice sharpened with desperation.

"Is Eugene aware you're starving me? Do you people want to kill me? Even kidnappers feed the person they kidnap! What is wrong with everyone in this cursed house? And why don't you ever say anything?! Are you mute too? This place is insane... all of you are insane!"

She turned to leave...

until Lady Margaret's voice floated behind her, calm and cold.

"I noticed you've been sleeping in different guest rooms instead of cleaning your own," she said.

"Today, you will clean your room."

Ivanna spun back, enraged.

"I will do no such thing! You can die if you want... cleaning is NOT my job! I said I won't do the chores of a maid!"

Margaret simply shrugged, unbothered.

Ivanna stormed down the hall, intending to hide in another room...

but when she tried the first door...

Locked.

She tried the second.

Locked.

Third.

Locked.

Every single guest room...

sealed shut.

Except hers.

Her filthy, smelly, disastrous room.

She stood frozen, fury burning hotter than her hunger.

Then she marched back to Margaret.

"What exactly are you doing?! Why did you lock all the rooms?!"

Margaret didn't even look up from her meal.

"Because that's not how humans live," she said simply.

"You cannot run from responsibility forever. Sooner or later, you will run out of rooms. And then what? Will you sleep outside? Clean your room."

Ivanna's voice cracked.

"Why are you doing this to me? First you starve me, now you lock me out of every room? How am I supposed to survive in that filthy room?! I can't clean it alone...this is wicked!"

Margaret raised a hand, silencing her.

"I am eating. I do not talk while eating. If you still haven't grasped the simple instructions I've given you, then kindly leave."

Ivanna stared at the dishes again,

her eyes burning with agony and humiliation.

"You're wicked," she whispered.

"You don't even need all this food. You're just doing this to hurt me."

Margaret smirked slightly and lifted a brow.

"Ivanna, stop acting like a spoiled child. You're not being punished, you're being trained. Once you learn how to behave, your life will return to perfection."

The softness in her voice, so unexpected, made Ivanna blink.

For the first time...

Margaret didn't seem like a monster.

Just... firm.

Strict.

And Ivanna, weakened and starving, finally began weighing her options.

She breathed out slowly and said in a small, careful voice:

"...If I learn how to cook... I won't starve anymore, right?"

"Yes."

That single word tasted like defeat, but Ivanna swallowed it anyway.

Survival first, everything else could wait.

Until she saw Eugene again, she would play along. She would endure.

She would live.

"Okay," she breathed, trying to keep her pride from shattering, "I'm willing to learn. Can you... teach me now?"

Lady Margaret nodded with a surprising calmness.

"After breakfast. Sit. Eat. Then I'll teach you how to prepare your lunch and dinner. Is that acceptable?"

Ivanna didn't even hear the rest.

Permission to eat, that was all she needed.

She dropped into the chair and began eating with a desperation she couldn't hide.

She devoured everything, gulping, shoving, tearing at the food as if someone would pull the plate away at any moment.

Lady Margaret watched, unimpressed, her brows tightening in quiet disapproval.

When Ivanna finished, she slumped back, breathless and overstuffed.

The moment her hunger disappeared... so did her interest in "learning."

She excused herself immediately, clutching her stomach dramatically, and returned to her room.

But the instant she stepped in, she froze.

The mess.

The chaos.

The smell.

Reality punched her in the face.

Still, she forced herself to start.

Clumsily. Angrily.

Every movement filled with resentment.

She bent to pick up a broken porcelain vase...

"Ah!"

The sharp edge sliced her finger, and she screamed, expecting someone to rush in.

Anyone.

But no one came.

The silence was worse than the pain.

Her eyes burned with frustrated tears as she shoved her wounded finger into her mouth and continued cleaning, slower this time, more careful.

Hours later, exhausted and shaking, she collapsed onto her newly cleared bed.

It wasn't perfect.

Not even close.

But it was clean enough to lie in.

For the first time since arriving, Ivanna slept soundly.

The Next Days

The routine repeated itself.

Eat.

Learn.

Clean.

Endure.

She had no choice.

When she entered the kitchen for her first cooking lesson, she coughed endlessly from the smoke.

Her eyes watered.

Her throat burned.

Her hair smelled like firewood.

But she learned.

Because learning meant eating.

And eating meant surviving.

Gradually, shockingly, she began to realize cooking wasn't as impossible as she thought.

Not with Lady Margaret guiding her step by step.

She also discovered that if she didn't scatter her belongings or create explosions of clothes in her room, cleaning wasn't nearly as hard.

The stress still pressed on her like a weight, but she finally stopped feeling like a prisoner.

Until the day she fell sick.

The fever struck like a slap.

Her head throbbed, her vision blurred, and her body heated like a furnace.

She lay on her bed, trembling.

Lady Margaret entered, saw her flushed face, and simply placed a bottle of medicine on the bedside table.

"Take this."

"That's all?!" Ivanna croaked. "I need a hospital! Call Eugene! Someone!"

Margaret walked away without a second glance.

The neglect stung more than the fever itself.

Ivanna felt small.

Invisible.

Disposable.

That was when the idea of escape began whispering in her mind.

For days she planned, imagining routes, timing movements, memorizing guard rotations.

Finally, her moment arrived.

Before dawn, the maids' transport van arrived as usual.

While they unloaded supplies, Ivanna slipped inside and hid behind stacked boxes, heart hammering like a drum.

The van moved.

It passed the inner gate.

The courtyard checkpoint.

Two guard stations.

No alarms.

She dared to hope.

But at the final gate, the largest, most fortified one, the van stopped.

A guard's voice thundered:

"Everyone, step out. Full inspection."

Ivanna's heart plummeted.

The guards searched the van ruthlessly, and seconds later...

"Found her."

Rough hands dragged Ivanna out kicking and screaming.

Humiliation burned her skin hotter than the fever.

She was dragged back to Lady Margaret, dumped at her feet like a captured animal.

Margaret didn't yell.

Didn't scold.

Didn't show anger.

"Outside," she said calmly.

Ivanna didn't understand, not until she was forced to kneel in the yard under the unforgiving sun.

Minutes passed.

Hours.

Her skin burned.

Her knees numb.

Her vision swam.

She truly thought she might die there.

At the Same Time - The Prince's Office

Prince Eugene was signing documents when the door suddenly flew open.

A bright, musical voice rang out:

"Surprise!"

A beautiful young woman bounced into the room, grinning from ear to ear.

Eugene looked up, visibly startled.

"Vanessa? What are you doing here?!"

She laughed as if the question was ridiculous.

"I came to see my big brother, can't I?"

"You didn't inform me. And do Mother and Father know you're in Texas?"

"Hm... not exactly," she said in a childish tone, rocking on her heels.

"I just missed you. So I bought a ticket and came!"

Eugene pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Well, now that you've seen me, you can go back."

"What?! I just arrived!" she exclaimed, hurt.

"Are you not happy to see me?"

"I am happy," he said quickly, "but I'm extremely busy. I don't have time to entertain you."

"That's fine. I don't need babysitting."

She shrugged cheerfully.

"I'll go home on my own."

"...Home?" Eugene repeated slowly.

Suspicion crept into his tone.

"Your home, of course! I miss that castle of yours. I'll head there now."

"No."

The word shot from his mouth too quickly.

Vanessa blinked.

"Why not? Why are you acting so strange since I got here?"

Eugene coughed, struggling to mask his anxiety.

"I... uh... I'm not acting strange."

But he was.

Desperately so.

"Actually... it's nothing," Eugene said, forcing a tight smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"The castle is undergoing reconstruction. Yes, reconstruction. So no one is staying there at the moment. I've been sleeping at my other house, the condominium near the company. You... might not like the place, so I was thinking..." he cleared his throat, "...why don't I call a hotel and prepare a suite for you?"

Vanessa shook her head firmly.

"I didn't come to stay in a hotel. I came to see my brother. Wherever you are staying... is where I'll stay."

Eugene's jaw clenched.

"...Alright then. The condominium it is."

Before Vanessa could question that stiff expression on his face, the landline rang.

He picked it up.

At the same moment, his phone vibrated with a new message, and Vanessa happened to glance at it.

YOUR WIFE TRIED ESCAPING AGAIN, SIR.

Vanessa froze.

Wife?

His wife?

Since when?!

Before she could fully process the shock, Eugene ended his call and picked up his cell phone.

The moment he read the message... his entire face hardened.

A frigid, intimidating aura replaced the mild annoyance from moments ago.

His eyes darkened, his posture sharpened.

He pressed a button.

A knock sounded almost instantly.

Nicolas entered the office.

Vanessa's heart raced.

Something was very, very wrong, and she was now certain that message was not a mistake.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Eugene spoke.

"Vanessa," he said without looking at her, "you can go now. I'm busy."

His tone was cold.

Dismissive.

Commanding.

Vanessa forced a smile.

"Okay... no problem. I'll get going now. Take care... bye."

She walked out calmly.

The moment the door closed... she pressed her ear to it.

Nothing.

Not a sound.

Not a whisper.

The office was soundproof.

Her curiosity, however, wasn't.

She stepped away, crossed her arms, and muttered:

"Fine. If big brother won't tell me what he's hiding... I'll find out myself."

And with that... she headed straight for the castle.

IVANNA'S ROOM

Ivanna lay curled on the couch, her entire body trembling.

Her vision spun, her skin burned, and her breath came in shallow gasps.

The punishment Lady Margaret gave her today had pushed her too far.

Her fever was back, harsher, hotter, almost blinding.

When the door opened, she didn't lift her head.

She barely cared.

Probably Lady Margaret again... here to torment me some more, she thought bitterly.

But then...

She caught a scent.

A rare, expensive perfume.

Soft, floral, unmistakably luxurious.

Louis XIV.

A limited edition she had seen only once, on a fashion runway.

Lady Margaret would never wear something like that.

Ivanna weakly pushed herself up and turned her head.

And froze.

A young woman stood in the doorway.

She looked to be Ivanna's age, or perhaps a little younger, but she was dressed like royalty... elegant, radiant, breathtakingly polished.

Her lake-blue designer gown flowed like silk water.

A ruby necklace glowed at her throat.

Her fair skin glimmered.

She moved with the grace of someone raised in wealth and privilege.

Her beauty was dazzling.

Her presence overwhelming.

Ivanna felt smaller than ever.

Vanessa blinked, equally shocked to see an exhausted, feverish, stunningly beautiful girl curled on the couch.

Everything about her screamed:

wealth... privilege... power.

But what shocked Ivanna the most was the expression on the girl's face...

not disdain,

not arrogance,

but genuine surprise.

Almost... confusion.

Vanessa blinked, taking in the sight of the frail girl curled on the couch, sweat-drenched and trembling.

She had come expecting secrets, perhaps even scandal.

She never expected this.

A beautiful girl with a fever.

A girl who looked trapped.

A girl who looked like she hadn't eaten properly in days.

A girl who, despite her condition, still managed to possess a breathtaking, delicate kind of beauty.

Vanessa entered the room slowly, her heels clicking softly against the marble.

Ivanna's heart pounded with a sudden, unfamiliar fear.

This girl... whoever she was... didn't belong to the nightmare she had been living.

Her gown alone must've cost more than people's entire closet.

And she was staring at Ivanna with wide, startled eyes.

For a brief second, Ivanna wondered if she was hallucinating.

Earlier...

Vanessa had come to the castle in defiance of her brother's warning, her instincts gnawing at her all morning. Eugene's strange behavior, his clipped tone, the hurried dismissal... Everything felt wrong.

And when she arrived at the mansion, her suspicions only deepened.

There were no signs of reconstruction. No workers. No tools. No noise.

Nothing... except an unnerving quietness and the eerie absence of most maids.

Something was off.

Trusting her instincts, she began searching room by room. Ten rooms later... after nearly giving up... she opened the next door and froze.

There, curled up on a couch, was a girl.

A breathtakingly beautiful girl, though currently pale, drenched in sweat, and clearly feverish.

Vanessa stepped inside slowly, eyes widening in disbelief.

Even through the disheveled hair and trembling shoulders, the girl's beauty was undeniable.

A soft, delicate kind that struck instantly... raw and untouched.

The kind of beauty that didn't need a single drop of makeup.

For a second, Vanessa simply stared, momentarily mesmerized.

Then the girl lifted her head weakly, and their gazes met.

Vanessa recovered first, offering a warm smile.

"Hi... my name is Vanessa. You must be my brother's wife, right?"

Her voice was warm, bright, almost musical...

the complete opposite of Margaret's cold commands.

Ivanna blinked.

Brother's... wife?

The resemblance between this girl and Eugene was unmistakable, the eyes, the jawline, even the subtle lift of their brows... minus the cold aura that made Ivanna tremble.

She wasn't imagining things.

This girl was truly his sister.

A real family member.

So he wasn't a ghost...

Not a scammer.

Not a phantom.

He truly existed, and this was truly his sister.

Proof that her marriage...

her nightmare...

her captivity...

...was tied to someone who actually existed.

A strange mix of relief and heartbreak punched through her chest.

All the pain she had bottled up for days, the humiliation, the hunger, the punishments, the fear, the loneliness, burst out of her in a sudden, uncontrollable wave.

Ivanna covered her face as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

Suddenly, uncontrollably, tears filled her eyes.

Vanessa's eyes widened.

"Oh! Hey-hey-wait, did I say something wrong? Why are you crying?"

But Ivanna was already sobbing, covering her face as her shoulders shook violently.

She couldn't stop.

She couldn't breathe.

She felt Vanessa kneel beside her.

Gently.

Cautiously.

Like someone comforting a wounded animal.

Vanessa touched her arm lightly.

"W–Wait! I didn't mean to scare you! Did I say something wrong? Are you hurt? Why are you crying?"

But Ivanna couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Did you see what your brother did to me?" she choked out between sobs.

Vanessa blinked. "What... what did he do?"

"He is wicked!" Ivanna cried harder. "Eugene is so wicked... so cruel... so... so heartless!"

Vanessa's eyes snapped wider.

"...Eugene?" she repeated. "He told you his real name?"

Ivanna sniffed, confused. "What do you mean? Isn't Eugene his name?"

"Well... yes," Vanessa admitted. "But he never uses it. Everyone calls him the prince. He hates using his birth name. So if he told you... he must really consider you special."

"Special?" Ivanna scoffed bitterly. "He hates me. He kidnapped me. And now he's trying to kill me through that wicked woman!"

Vanessa's expression snapped from shock to horror.

"Wicked woman? Who-?"

"Lady Margaret!" Ivanna cried. "She's been punishing me every day! She doesn't care if I die!"

"Lady Margaret is HERE?!" Vanessa all but shouted.

The shock was genuine... borderline panicked.

"Yes!" Ivanna continued desperately. "She never stops punishing me. I'm always cleaning, kneeling, cooking... she doesn't let me rest! I feel like I'm dying!"

Vanessa ran a shaky hand through her hair.

"I know how terrifying she can be," she admitted, voice softening. "She trained me when I was younger. Military-style training. I thought I wasn't going to survive half the time."

Ivanna's tears slowed, replaced by exhaustion.

"Why would he bring her here? What did I do wrong? I know I'm not perfect... but is that enough to treat me like this?"

Vanessa sighed, helpless.

"I don't know why he's doing this. Eugene is strict but... he's also warm. Caring. If he married you, there must be a reason. Maybe he's trying to help you improve? I don't know..."

"I don't want to 'improve' anymore," Ivanna whispered, voice cracking. "I want to go home. I want my parents. Please help me... call them. I don't want to be married anymore."

She grabbed Vanessa's hands with trembling fingers.

"Please help me. Please."

Vanessa swallowed hard, torn.

"I-I don't know. Maybe I can talk to him fir-"

"No!" Ivanna cried. "Don't tell him! That giant woman will punish me again!"

Before Vanessa could respond, the door swung open.

Both girls jerked their heads toward the entrance.