Ricardo

I watched as she stripped and changed in front of Diego. I could have set her free, seeing as she'd realized the error of her ways, and let her go to her room. The one she was given on the first day she stayed here—but I had no intention of letting her go back to the room as it was. I made Lourdes strip the handmade Turkish rug, the queen-sized bed, all clothes, toiletries, and furniture from the room. She would only have wooden floors and a small single bed. Nothing more. She'd have to wear the same thing every day: black leggings and a matching shirt. No television. No access to Wi-Fi. Nothing. She would feel like a prisoner, until the day came when she would be allowed to go out, and she would obey knowing if she rebelled then her fate would be one of two options: death or the dungeon. She would welcome both with open arms.

After her twenty-three days were up, then she could go on with her life, pretending she had never met me, or that I'd done nothing but treat her well. If all w