Chapter 7
The world went silent except for her heartbeat, pounding like a drum, loud and frantic.
"Who's there?" Her voice trembled in the endless darkness.
Footsteps answered her.
Slow and steady, coming from the other end of the room. Each step felt like it was landing on her chest.
The person stopped in front of her.
Sophia could feel the oppressive weight of his tall figure looming over her. She could smell the rich, cold fragrance on him, mixed with a faint trace of tobacco.
It was familiar, but she couldn't place it.
A hand, rough with calluses, touched her cheek.
Sophia flinched back like she'd been burned.
The man let out a low laugh, full of mockery and malice.
He didn't come closer, but the invisible pressure around him engulfed her completely.
Sophia curled up on the floor, arms wrapped around herself.
The man bent down, roughly scooped her up, and threw her onto a large bed.
The mattress was impossibly soft, but to Sophia, it felt like she was lying on burning iron.
She wanted to scream, to fight back, but her throat felt stuffed with cotton. No sound came out.
Her body, weakened by long-term malnutrition and pain, had no strength left.
The blindfold was yanked off by a hand.
The room was dark. Only faint moonlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, outlining the vague silhouette of a man.
She couldn't see his face.
He stood over her, looking down like she was a lifeless toy.
Sophia cried.
Silently. Tears streamed down her face and soaked into the sheets beneath her.
Not from fear. From despair.
She thought she'd already hit rock bottom. But there was a deeper hell below.
The man watched her tears with what looked like satisfaction. His lips curved into a cold, emotionless smile.
Sophia didn't know when she passed out.
She regained consciousness to the sharp smell of disinfectant.
She was lying on the hard prison bed again, wearing a clean prison uniform. Aside from the tearing pain deep inside her body and the overwhelming shame, everything felt like a nightmare.
She shot up and rushed into the bathroom. She turned on the faucet and scrubbed herself with ice-cold water, over and over.
She wanted to wash away the scent of that strange man. She wanted to scrape the filthy memory off her skin.
Water poured over her pale skin, but she only felt dirtier.
Her stomach churned violently. She braced herself against the wall and vomited until there was nothing left but bile.
Her life was completely ruined.
The next day, just after dawn, the cell door opened.
A guard stood at the entrance, calling out her number. "0713, come out."
Sophia stood numbly, assuming a new round of torment was beginning.
The guard tossed a set of old clothes at her. "Change. You're being released."
Sophia froze, unable to process the words.
"What?"
"Don't waste my time. Someone arranged for your early release." The guard's tone was impatient. "Hurry up!"
She was pushed out through the prison gates.
After two years in that cage, the sunlight outside was blinding.
She stood at the entrance, disoriented, with no idea where to go.
A black Maybach silently pulled up in front of her.
The rear window rolled down slowly.
It revealed a face she would never forget. A face that, in this moment, sent her plummeting into an icy abyss.
James.
He wore a perfectly tailored designer suit and looked at her with cold indifference, like she was a complete stranger.
"Get in."
His voice was the same as it had been two years ago. Cold and devoid of humanity.
Two words. A command. No warmth.
Sophia stood rooted to the spot, as if her feet were nailed to the ground.
She'd just crawled out of one hell. Now he was going to push her into another.
"I need to find my mother."
Her voice came out hoarse and dry from lack of normal conversation.
A flicker of impatience crossed James's face.
He didn't say another word. Just one glance, and two bodyguards in black stepped out of the car. They positioned themselves on either side of her, gesturing for her to "come along."
The silent pressure was more threatening than any words.
She had no choice.
She never did.
Sophia was half-pushed, half-dragged into the back seat of the Maybach.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the outside sunlight and any hope of escape.
The car drove smoothly toward the Russell Villa, the place she'd once thought was home but was really just a gilded cage.
Everything inside the villa was exactly as it had been two years ago. Spacious, cold, lifeless.
"Go clean yourself up." James unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it carelessly onto the couch without looking at her.
Sophia's body stiffened.
Clean herself up?
Like a dirty object the owner finds distasteful and needs to wash before using again.
She didn't move. She just stared at him.
James finally looked up. His gaze landed on her, assessing and critical.
"Do you not understand English?"
Sophia turned silently and walked toward the second-floor bathroom.
Hot water poured from the showerhead, filling the room with warm steam.
On a rack outside the bathroom hung a set of clothes, already prepared.
A black silk slip dress. Thin as gossamer. Barely long enough to cover her thighs.
Sophia looked at herself in the mirror.
Two years in that sunless prison had left her emaciated beyond recognition. Her pale skin stretched tight over visible bones.
When she put on the dress, it hung loose and empty on her frame, like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes. She looked frail and sickly.
When she walked out, James was sitting on the couch, holding a glass of red wine, his posture relaxed.
At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment, like he was appraising merchandise.
"You've lost a lot of weight." His tone was neutral, unreadable. "Guess the food in there didn't agree with you."
Then he let out a soft laugh, dripping with undisguised cruelty.
"But I suppose that's what a vicious woman like you deserves."
He set down his glass and stood, walking toward her.
Sophia instinctively stepped back, but her back hit the cold wall. Nowhere to go.
James's tall frame towered over her, blocking everything else out.
He reached out. Not to embrace her. He grabbed the strap of her slip dress.
Rip.
The fragile silk tore easily.
Sophia's whole body trembled. Humiliation flooded every inch of her. She raised her hands to cover herself, but he caught her wrists effortlessly and pinned them behind her back.
"James!" She finally lost control, shouting. "What do you think I am? You said I was filthy! So why are you touching me?"
James leaned down, his lips almost brushing her ear, his voice low and venomous.
"Because I see you as the lowest kind of whore. The kind anyone can have."
