Chapter 3

Leon ducked behind Sophia. "I saw her! She took it from Mama Sophia's vanity!"

I froze.

A jagged ache twisted into my ribs.

I knew Sophia had brainwashed him, but hearing the accusation from my own son still nearly dropped me to my knees.

"Leon..." My voice broke. "What are you talking about?"

I crouched to lock eyes with him. "Leon, I was only there to drop off the divorce papers. I didn't—"

"Divorce papers? Pathetic!" Sophia's shrill voice cut me off. "You were there to rob me blind!"

Before I could speak, a shadow fell over me.

A brutal force slammed my shoulder. I flew backward, my elbow cracking sickeningly against the marble floor.

Victor towered over me, eyes dead. "Do you have anything else to say, Elena?"

He crouched, his large hand snapping around my jaw and digging into my cheeks.

"Because I'm struggling to understand," he murmured softly. "If you didn't steal it, why would your own flesh and blood frame you?"

My eyes burned.

It was a trap with no exit.

Sophia seized the moment, yanking Leon into a dramatic embrace. Tears instantly spilled. "Thank God for Leon! Without him, everyone would think I was just bullying her!"

She kissed his flushed face. "You're a good boy, sweetheart."

Leon squirmed in her grip, his eyes darting to the floor, refusing to look at me. He knew he was lying. I could see the guilt.

But he didn't take it back.

Victor released my jaw, wiping his hand on his slacks as if he'd touched garbage. "Your child stands against you. We're done here."

Sophia dabbed her dry eyes. "Victor, let it go. She gave birth to Leon. I don't want a scene."

A harsh scoff ripped from my throat. It wasn't mercy; it was a trap to make me beg.

"What do you want?" I rasped, climbing to my feet.

Sophia stepped closer, smiling. "Just compensate me. Five million, and I'll wipe the slate clean."

Five million. The exact amount Victor had deposited into my account over three years as "allowance."

"I didn't take it," I spat. "I refuse to pay."

"Suit yourself." Sophia sneered. "Then it's family law. Pick which fingers you want to keep."

Victor snapped his lighter, lighting a cigar. "Under family law," he said, staring at my hands, "a thief loses three fingers."

"Do whatever you want," I said. "I'm leaving."

I turned and marched for the door. I'd rather lose my hand than play this sick game.

Before I reached the doorknob, Victor was behind me, slamming his hand against the wood to trap me.

"A debt is a debt," he growled in my ear. "If you can't pay cash, we have other methods."

"Victor!" I shoved his chest. "I didn't steal it! You know I didn't!"

He didn't budge. He grabbed my wrist, twisting until the bones ground together. I gasped in agony. "You still have a husband, don't you?"

He dragged me into the corridor, pulling me toward the forbidden East Wing.

He threw open an oak door. Inside was a plush leather bed, handcuffs bolted to the masonry, and a one-way mirror facing the corridor.

He shoved me against the doorframe. "You act as the attendant tonight. Stand outside. Serve whatever is requested. Do that, and your debt is cleared."

Sophia caught up from down the hall, slipping past me with a sickeningly triumphant smile. She placed her hand on Victor's chest, her eyes dancing with undisguised mockery.

Victor pulled her inside by the hip.

The door slammed in my face.

For ten hours, the nightmare dragged on.

"Lube." Victor's voice commanded through the intercom.

Four times, I pushed bottles blindly through the service slot.

"Towels."

Six times.

"Change the sheets."

Three times, I stood in the doorway, staring at a blank wall, refusing to look at Victor and Sophia tangled on the bed. My hands trembled violently as I dragged away soiled linens.

Every gasp, every moan drifting through the wood acted like a blade, carving out the pathetic scraps of love I still harbored for him.

Maids passed by, pointing and laughing on the night shift.

"She really has no shame."

"Enduring the humiliation. Serves her right for refusing to leave."

I dug my fingernails into my palms until blood dripped onto the carpet. The sharp pain was the only thing keeping my spine straight. I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes.

Twelve years ago. Sixteen-year-old Victor on his knees, blood pouring down his forehead. His father had wanted to sell me to a rival boss.

"Please! Don't! She's just a kid!"

Victor had taken kicks until his ribs cracked, kneeling until he couldn't walk. His father gave him an ultimatum: "Kill for me, and I'll let her go."

That was his first kill. The first time he touched blood—all to stop me from enduring a single night of humiliation.

I opened my eyes.

The boy who ruined his knees for me was gone. Instead, a twenty-eight-year-old cartel boss had forced me outside a door while he slept with his own stepmother just to break me.

"Even if you stripped naked in an enemy's bed, you'd cause more damage."

Yesterday's words clicked. He wasn't trying to hurt me; he was stating a fact. He genuinely didn't care.

The boy who loved me was dead.

"Sixteen was twelve years ago," I whispered. I wiped a tear from my cheek. It was time to grow up.

At 6:15 AM, my legs were numb. The cuts in my palms had scabbed. I didn't look back at the door, walking mechanically to my room.

I pulled a debit card from a hidden drawer. It held the few thousand dollars I'd saved selling my old jewelry. It was enough for a ticket out of this hell.

I slid the card into my coat pocket, left the signed papers on the desk, and stepped into the corridor.

At the far end stood Leon, holding a stuffed bear, shifting awkwardly on his bare feet.

His lips parted. He took a hesitant step.

"Mommy..." his tiny voice wavered. "I..."

I didn't answer him. I broke eye contact and kept walking.