In the bathroom, I found my clothes in a heap on the floor.

His were neatly hung on the rack by the door. Separate. Orderly.

The sight stung. I sighed, changed quietly, and left the hotel.

Chiara called, her voice strained. "Valentina, they want half a million."

The sky was gray. No sun.

She'd spent most of her savings on my treatment. I had almost nothing left.

"They said if we don't pay, they'll expose everything and never tell you where your mother's ashes and belongings are."

"I'll try to borrow. We should have it by next month."

"Okay."

After hesitating, I dialed a number.

It took a while to connect.

"Valentina? What's up?"

"Dr. Marco, I'm sorry to bother you. I…"

He sounded busy. After some shuffling, he reached a quiet place. "Trouble?"

I took a deep breath. "Can you lend me four hundred thousand?"

It was the first time I'd ever asked anyone for money. My whole body burned.

A commotion on his end: "Dr. Marco, emergency surgery."

"Got it."

I didn't expect much. I was ready for him to hang up.

But at the last moment, Marco said shortly, "Send me your account number. I'll transfer it today."

Then the line went dead.

The sky stayed gray.

But the cold dial tone suddenly felt warm.

That evening, the deputy knocked on my desk. "VIPs tonight. You're coming."

A few hours earlier, I'd asked him for an advance on my first month's salary. With that, the borrowed money, and my savings, I barely scraped together the half million.

When I walked into the private room, I saw Nico.

He was working the room with ease, exchanging pleasantries. The chandelier light traced his sharp profile.

The deputy gave me a small push.

All eyes landed on me.

"Mr. Barzan, is she one of yours?"

Nico glanced at me casually. "Yes. New."

"A new girl you personally bring around? Not bad-looking."

Chatter, then everyone sat. The deputy placed me next to Nico. He whispered, "Be smart tonight. Take the drinks when you need to."

"Mr. Barzan, can your new girl drink or not?"

Before Nico could answer, the deputy jumped in, "She can, she can."

He pushed a glass toward me. "Start with a toast."

Nico said nothing. Just smiled and tapped the table.

I held my breath and downed it. The liquor burned through my throat, my stomach churning.

Cheers erupted. They were about to pour another when Nico changed the subject. "What were we talking about? Let's continue."

Throughout the night, people tried to toast Nico, but he claimed a bad stomach and didn't touch a drop. The deputy funneled every drink to me.

Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore. I went to the bathroom.

I turned on the tap and retched. My hair came loose and fell into the sink, getting wet.

After texting Chiara, I slumped over the counter, eyes closed, panting.

Footsteps approached from outside. The door opened.

I assumed it was some woman.

But it was Nico. Calm. "Can't handle it already?"

I pushed myself up, wobbled, tried to walk past him.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

His large hand went to the back of my neck. Hot.

"Let me go."

My throat was raw from stomach acid. Every word hurt.

Nico easily dragged me to the mirror, turned me to face it, and lifted my chin. He smirked.

"Take a good look. You think it's safe to walk out looking like this?"

My reflection stared back—wet eyes, flushed cheeks, tangled hair, collar open.

He stared through the mirror, openly, greedily.

I closed my eyes, trembling. "Who's more dangerous than you?"

He laughed softly and kissed my ear. "Come home with me tonight, okay?"

"Get lost—"

He silenced me with his mouth, crushing the air from my lungs.

Under the influence of alcohol, my blood felt like molten lava.

Lights blurred. Water dripped like acid on my heart.

Agony.

I broke out in a cold sweat, weakly hitting him.

Dragged back to that dark time.

Desperately watching a bright, colorful world where I didn't belong.

"Nico… can you just let me go?"

I was falling. Silent. Hitting the bottom of the well.

It hurt.

But I couldn't feel it anymore.

"Valentina!"

He was shouting my name.

Not with the look that said he wanted me dead.

He looked scared.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if he was the young Nico or the man he'd become.

I said, "Nico, I never want to see you again."

The fever hit hard.

I was delirious, every bone aching, shivering under the blanket.

The wind howled outside. In my haze, I dreamed of the past.

I was on Nico's back. "Nico, what if I die?"

He walked steadily, his voice soft. "Don't say that. It's just a fever. You'll be fine after a shot."

"Hey, do you have enough money? Shots are expensive."

"It's fine."

"How can it be fine? How much do you have left?"

He didn't answer. He carried me into the hospital, crouched in front of me, and said seriously, "As long as you're okay, I'm okay."

I was bundled up in a thick coat. "When Mom and Dad stop fighting, I'll ask them for money to pay you back."

Nico touched my hair, his eyes gentle. "Trust me. You're going to be fine."

But I wasn't fine.

The night Nico was sent to the East Coast on family business, I came home and opened my parents' bedroom door.

My father had another woman in his arms.

That was the beginning of my fall.

Then came the screaming fights. Then my father was shot dead by my mother. My home vanished.

Late one night, my family's enemies broke in.

The chandelier swinging. Men's excited shouts. Dull pain on my skin. The sickening feel of hands. My mother's hysterical screaming—all mixed into a boiling, churning mess in my head.

Then time fast-forwarded.

My mother drowned in the bathtub—by their hands.

Chiara found me, half-clothed, and took me far away to the West Coast.

On a rainy day, I sat curled in a hospital corner in a patient gown, my face blank.

"She has a genetic psychiatric condition. Any family?"

Chiara looked at me with worried eyes. "She has a boyfriend. On the East Coast."

"Contact him." The doctor used clinical terms. "She's at high risk for suicide. Treatment will be long and difficult. She'll need someone with her for years."

I was in no state to plan revenge.

Chiara and I were like two stray dogs. We fled everything we'd ever known.

The same day, Nico got the chance to expand into Europe.

He called.

There was wind on his end.

"Valentina," he said, tenderly. "I promise you. In three years, I will marry you."

I watched the iron gate close behind me. There was no way back home.

"Nico… I don't think I can be with you anymore."

I swallowed the sob. Tears fell silently.

He stopped breathing. "Why?"

I opened my mouth. For a moment, I hesitated.

His future was so bright.

And I—parents dead, violated by multiple men.

Would I really chain him to me? Trap him on this gray, rainy coast?

Through a window, a girl cried behind a fence. The boy's face showed nothing but numbness and disgust.

I saw the light die in someone's eyes. It was devastating.

The wind lifted my hair, revealing bruises and bite marks on my neck.

Finally, I wiped my tears and said, "Nico, take care of yourself. We're done."

Beeping. Monitors.

Sunset slipped through the blinds, pooling on the sofa like scattered gold.

I blinked. The nightmare faded. I sat up.

A man sat on the couch, head down, peeling an apple.

Long, pale fingers worked neatly. Soon a perfect fruit appeared.

Clean. Round.

Nico.

He heard me move. Looked up. Without a word, he pressed the call button.

A doctor came, checked my pupils, confirmed I was stable, and said to Nico, "She's malnourished. More protein in her diet."

Nico nodded. "Thank you."

The door closed.

He came to the bed and held out the apple. "Don't think about anything. Just get better."

I didn't take it. I got up and searched the closet.

My phone was gone. No outside clothes.

He let me rummage.

"Nico, what do you want?"

I stood barefoot on the floor. Sunlight fell on the window glass, showing my pale, haggard reflection.

"You know what I want." He put the apple on the nightstand and wiped his hands slowly. "I want you."

He sat right there in the light, his dark eyes fixed on me—hot, humiliating.

I trembled, clenched my fists. "Nico, you can't treat me like this."

He stood and came over in two steps, towering over me. He smoothed my hair.

"Why not?"

"I'm in love with someone else. Please stop."

"Oh, really?" His face was expressionless.

He cupped my face and leaned down, stopping a centimeter from my lips.

I couldn't break free. When I turned my head, I closed my eyes and shivered involuntarily.

Nico laughed. His cold voice slipped into my ear.

"Valentina. You're lying."