Chapter 2 Buried Truths and Breaking Points

Caspian could still hear his mother begging for her life, even though fifteen years had passed since the night blood took everything from him.

He lay on his bed, trapped in sleep, his fingers gripping the bedsheet while beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. His face twisted in pain, and his lips moved with the broken voice of the ten-year-old boy he used to be. "Please don't harm my mom," he whispered in his sleep. "Please don't do this to my mommy. Daddy, please don't leave me alone."

In his dream, he was standing in that same room again, the one he had tried for years to erase from his mind. His mother and father lay on the floor in a pool of their own blood, and the little boy inside him could only stare as his world broke apart. He wanted to run to them, to shake them awake, to beg them not to leave him, but fear pinned his feet to the ground. His throat burned with screams that never came out, while the faces of the people who destroyed his family remained hidden in the darkness.

Caspian's eyes flew open, and he sat up sharply, breathing hard as if he had been running for his life. The darkness of his bedroom surrounded him, but for a few seconds, he could still smell blood, still hear his mother's voice, still feel the helplessness that had followed him from childhood into the powerful man he had become. He dragged a hand over his face and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remember that he was no longer that weak boy.

His phone lay on the bedside table. He picked it up and checked the time.

12:30 a.m.

Midnight had barely passed, but he already knew sleep would not return. It rarely did. He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, hoping a cold bath would calm the storm inside him. The water ran over his body, cooling his skin, but it could not reach the memories buried beneath it. When he returned to the room and lay down again, he closed his eyes, but the images came back immediately. His mother's lifeless face. His father's blood. The hands that dragged him away. The fifteen years of hatred that had shaped him into what he was now.

After a while, Caspian stopped fighting the sleepless night. He rose from the bed, dressed properly, and went to his study room. If sleep would not give him peace, work would give him control. He sat behind his desk and opened his laptop, burying himself in files, contracts, and reports until the darkness outside began to fade into morning.

A knock came on the door just as he closed one document and opened another.

"Boss," Anthony called from outside.

"Come in," Caspian said, shutting the laptop.

Anthony stepped into the study room, neatly dressed and alert as always. He was Caspian's bodyguard, but he had been around long enough to become more than that. He was the closest person Caspian had to a friend, though Caspian rarely allowed emotions to enter anything he valued. Anthony took one look at him and knew the night had been bad again.

Caspian glanced at the wall clock and noticed it was already seven in the morning. His body felt heavy, but his face remained cold.

"You didn't sleep again last night?" Anthony asked.

Caspian only nodded and rose from the chair. He did not have the strength to explain what Anthony already knew. The tiredness under his eyes and the tension in his jaw said enough.

Anthony watched him for a moment before speaking again. "What about the girl, Caspian? She has been locked up in that room for three days without food or water. Do you want her to die?"

Caspian stopped near the door. The question struck something dark inside him, and his fingers tightened at his side as the image of Indigo Anderson entered his mind. She was the daughter of the man who had ruined his life, the daughter of the man who had stolen his family's empire and left him chained to pain when he was too young to fight back. To Anthony, she might have looked like a helpless girl. To Caspian, she carried her father's blood, her father's name, and the shadow of every scar he had spent fifteen years hiding.

He did not want her dead, not yet. Death would be too quick, too merciful, and he had not brought her here to give her mercy. He wanted her to understand what it meant to lose freedom, safety, and hope. He wanted her to taste even a small part of the suffering her family had poured into his life.

"She won't die yet," he thought, his anger tightening his chest. "Not before she pays."

But he did not say any of that to Anthony. He only looked at him and said, "You should be getting ready. We are both attending the board meeting today."

Anthony stared at him, clearly annoyed that his question had been ignored, but Caspian had already turned away. He walked out of the study room with anger moving through him like fire.

Anthony looked at the closed door and rolled his eyes. "I asked him one question, and he gave me another answer. Weird."

He left the study room and headed toward his own room, but a maid met him in the hallway.

"Sir, breakfast is ready," she said politely.

Anthony waved his hand. "I'm not hungry."

The maid hesitated. "What about Sir Caspian? Should we send his food to his room?"

Anthony scoffed softly. "Only if you have a death wish."

The maid lowered her eyes at once, and Anthony walked past her to get ready for the board meeting scheduled for ten o'clock.

---

Inside the locked room, Indigo opened her eyes slowly.

At first, she did not move. Her head felt heavy, her mouth was dry, and every part of her body hurt as if pain had settled inside her bones. She blinked several times before the room came into focus, and the moment she remembered where she was, fear wrapped around her chest.

She was still in the strange room.

Still trapped in Caspian's house.

She shifted weakly and realized her hands were no longer tied to the bed. Her wrists still ached from the ropes, and her skin burned where they had rubbed against her, but at least she could move. She sat up carefully, groaning as pain spread through her body, then looked around the room with tired, frightened eyes.

The room was small but beautifully decorated. The bed was soft, the curtains looked expensive, and the furniture had a rich elegance that would have impressed her on any other day. But nothing in the room felt beautiful to her now. A decorated prison was still a prison, and the closed door reminded her that freedom was somewhere far away.

"Oh my God," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "When am I going to get out of here?"

The memories returned before she could stop them. Her mother's blood. Dominic's face behind the mask. The handkerchief pressed over her nose. The strange man with cold blue eyes. Caspian. Her captor. The man who had called her his sex slave, his property, his possession.

A shiver ran down her body.

She had been here for three days. Three days without seeing him again. Three days without food or water, trapped with hunger, thirst, fear, and the memory of his hatred. The last time she saw him, he had walked toward her with those cold eyes, touched her thigh, called her his, and hit her as if she were nothing.

Indigo pressed her lips together, fighting the cry rising in her throat. She did not understand why he hated her so much. She could see his hatred clearly, feel it in the way he looked at her and hear it in his voice, but she did not know where it came from. She had never met him before that night. She had never hurt him. Yet he treated her as if her existence alone was a crime.

Her head throbbed, and she placed a hand on her forehead. The pain was sharp, but she forced herself to stand. Her legs trembled under her weight, and she had to hold the bed for a moment before moving. When she noticed a door leading into a bathroom, she walked toward it slowly and took a bath, hoping the water would make her feel less broken.

It did not.

When Indigo stepped out of the bathroom, her damp hair resting against her shoulders, she stopped so suddenly that her heart almost leaped into her throat.

Someone else was in the room.

A maid stood beside the bed, cleaning quietly. The woman slowly turned at the sound of the bathroom door opening, and the moment her eyes landed on Indigo...

Her expression changed.

She screamed.

Indigo was startled as well. The maid stared at her, her eyes widening with surprise before recognition slowly replaced the fear on her face.

"You..." she murmured, letting her gaze travel from Indigo's damp hair to the bruises scattered across her face and body.

Then it clicked.

She was the girl Sir Anthony had brought into the mansion three days ago. The mysterious girl everyone had whispered about but no one dared question.

"You scared me," the maid said, pressing a hand against her chest before her frightened expression hardened into irritation.

Indigo lowered her head immediately. "I'm sorry."

The maid continued staring at her, making Indigo fold her arms around herself in discomfort. Her eyes lingered on every bruise covering Indigo's body, and a strange expression crossed her face.

"Please... where can I get something to wear?" Indigo asked softly.

"Check the wardrobe," the maid replied before turning around and walking out of the room.

"Wait..." Indigo called after her, but the door had already closed.

She released a quiet sigh and walked toward the wardrobe. When she opened it, she found it filled with expensive women's clothes arranged neatly on hangers. She frowned slightly, wondering who the room belonged to and why so many dresses were already there. After looking through them for a moment, she picked a simple red gown and slipped it on. Although the soft fabric covered the bruises on her body, it did nothing to ease the fear weighing heavily on her heart.

She returned to the bed and sat down, but the moment she did, the tears she had been holding back spilled over.

"I wish Mom were here," she thought, wiping her cheeks.

The memory of Sable wrapped around her like an ache that refused to leave. Her mother would have known exactly what to do. She would have hugged her, comforted her, and reminded her that everything would somehow be alright. But Sable was gone, and Indigo was completely alone in a house filled with strangers who either hated her or looked at her as though she didn't matter.

As she sat there crying, a single thought slowly pushed through her grief.

She couldn't stay here.

If she remained inside this mansion, she might never leave alive. Caspian had bought her from Dominic as though she were nothing more than a piece of property, and a man capable of doing that would never suddenly become kind. She had no idea where she would go or who could possibly help her, but whatever waited outside these walls felt far less terrifying than waiting for Caspian to decide her fate.

Determination slowly replaced fear.

She stood up, walked to the door, and carefully turned the handle. The hallway outside was silent. Holding her breath, she stepped out, gently closed the door behind her, and began tiptoeing toward the staircase. Every step made her heart pound harder against her chest, and she silently prayed that no one would notice her before she found a way out.

She had barely reached the hallway when another maid spotted her.

"What are you trying to do?" the woman shouted.

Indigo stopped instantly.

The maid marched toward her with narrowed eyes. "Are you trying to escape?"

Indigo turned slowly, panic already filling her eyes. She wanted to explain herself, to beg for help, to say something that might soften the woman's heart, but fear tangled every word before it could leave her mouth.

"I... I..."

The maid scoffed before suddenly slapping her hard across the face.

The force of the blow sent Indigo stumbling backward until she crashed onto the floor. Pain shot through her cheek, and tears welled in her eyes almost immediately.

"Please... I..." she whispered weakly.

The maid only laughed.

Indigo remained on the floor, her hands trembling beneath her. Shame settled heavily inside her chest. This wasn't the woman she used to be. She had always known how to defend herself, how to speak her mind, but grief, fear, hunger, and helplessness had stripped away every ounce of confidence she once possessed. Now she couldn't even defend herself against a maid.

"Weak asshole," the woman muttered with obvious disgust before turning away.

She went downstairs and immediately took out her phone. As soon as the call connected, she straightened her posture as though Caspian could somehow see her through the screen.

"Hello, sir."

"What do you want?" Caspian asked coldly.

"The girl you brought in tried to escape, but I caught her."

The call ended before she could say another word.

The maid stared at the phone in disbelief.

"What? He hung up on me?"

Her name was Gia, and she had worked in Caspian's mansion for an entire year. During all that time, she had done everything she could to catch his attention. She worked harder than everyone else, dressed neatly every day, spoke politely whenever he was around, and always looked for excuses to be near him. Yet to Caspian, she remained nothing more than another servant in his house.

Then, three days ago, an unknown girl had suddenly been brought into the mansion and locked inside one of the rooms like a closely guarded secret. Gia didn't know who Indigo was, but seeing Caspian react because of her stirred an ugly jealousy inside her. She had spent a whole year trying to earn even a single glance from him, yet this stranger had managed to become someone important enough for him to hide.

Still thinking about it, Gia dropped her phone onto the table and turned toward the staircase.

Before she could take another step, the front door burst open.

Caspian strode into the mansion with a look so cold that Gia instinctively stiffened. Gia had never seen him this angry.

She instinctively stepped out of his way as Caspian climbed the stairs without saying a word.

Every servant in the mansion knew one thing.

When Caspian Blackwood looked at someone like that... mercy no longer existed.

He stopped outside Indigo's room.

Then, with one powerful shove, Caspian burst the door open.