Bound by My Signature

Slowly, she opened her eyes. The white ceiling greeted her, but the mattress beneath her felt far softer than the lumpy one back home.

"Where am I?" She sat up, her eyes darting across the room. It looked lavish, white and grey walls, thick velvety curtains, and a glittering crystal chandelier hanging above.

"Wow..." She gasped softly before pausing. Fragments of last night's memories began rushing back. She remembered the punishment at home, sprinting toward the main road, and the blinding headlights racing straight toward her. After that... total darkness.

'Did I get hit?'

A wave of panic surged through her. Trembling, her hands hastily checked her body, running over her head, arms, waist, and face.

"No... I don't think so." She let out a ragged breath of relief. 'Then who brought me here?' She tried a second time to piece together what had happened, but her memory remained a complete blank. "And here of all places?" she muttered. "They must be ridiculously wealthy."

Scanning the room, her eyes landed on the wall clock. Her heart leaped into her throat. 'I'm almost late for work!' She scrambled out of bed.

Just as her feet touched the floor, the chime of the doorbell echoed through the room. The wall monitor near the doorway turned on, displaying a live feed of a young man holding a tray. He wore the standard uniform of hotel staff. Vanessa’s eyes trailed from his crisp jacket to his face, and her stomach dropped.

'That's our hotel uniform.'

Her eyes widened in fear. She rushed out into the living room. "A suite?" she breathed out. 'How lucky are you, Vanessa?' she thought, heading straight toward the door without taking in the room's luxury.

"Yes?" she called out, keeping the door firmly shut.

"Good morning, ma'am," the staff member greeted politely from outside. "Your breakfast."

She released a quiet sigh. "Actually, I was just about to leave. So, no breakfast, thank you."

"Okay, ma'am," he answered.

"Wait!" she called out before he could walk away. "Do you know who checked me in?"

"Should be the boss since you're in his private suite," he replied professionally.

"Oh... right." She cleared her throat. "You can go. Thank you."

After waiting a few minutes, she cracked the door open and checked the hallway. Once she was certain no one was around, she slipped out and hurried down the corridor towards the elevator.

Once she reached the ground floor, she bypassed the front desk entirely to avoid recognition. 'What if they bombard me with questions? I don't have any answers. The less attention I draw to myself, the better.'

Reaching the main exit, she flagged down a taxi and slid into the backseat.

Fifteen minutes later, the taxi pulled up near her house. She paid the driver and stepped out, the looming dread of her parents' wrath weighing heavily on her chest. But as she walked through the gate, she noticed something odd: no security guards were in sight. They would never dare abandon their post, unless...

'No one is home?' She peered into the driveway. Their cars were gone.

Wasting no time, Vanessa sprinted inside to her room, washed her face, and threw on her work uniform to get ready before anyone returned.

"Wait.. my phone, where is it?" She paused, searching her desk frantically then paused. "There's no time to look for it now! Later" she said as she rushed out of the house.

To save what little money she had left, she opted to walk the remaining distance to the hotel.

Thirty minutes later, she arrived back at the hotel, panting. Standing near the glass entrance was her manager, Mr. Elliot, tapping his foot and checking his watch as if waiting specifically for her.

"Ms. Vanessa, late to work yet again?" Mr. Elliot reprimanded, folding his arms across his chest. "You were supposed to clock in thirty minutes ago."

"I'm so sorry, sir. Family issues... it won't happen again," she stammered, offering an awkward, apologetic smile.

"Hmm. Of course you'll say that," he sighed, shaking his head.

Vanessa bowed her head and hurried past him into the staff breakroom. Inside, her colleagues Rachel and Amelia were already in their uniforms.

"Morning," Vanessa greeted quietly.

"Morning to you, too," Rachel said gently.

Amelia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Late as always. Honestly, the manager should just fire you since arriving on time seems impossible." She hissed under her breath and strutted out of the room.

"Don't mind her," Rachel said, stepping closer with a warm, comforting smile. "She's just bitter."

"I know. Thanks," Vanessa replied weakly.

Rachel reached out and took Vanessa’s hands in hers, her tone softening with genuine concern. "We both know the real reason you're always running late. Did they hit you again?"

Vanessa froze, the tenderness in Rachel's voice catching her off guard. She averted her gaze, her throat tightening.

"You need to leave that house, Vanessa," Rachel urged, pity evident in her eyes.

"You don't need to worry about me, Rachel," Vanessa sighed, gently pulling her hands back as discomfort settled in.

"Okay... if you say so. But if you ever need a place to stay or help, don't forget I'm here," Rachel assured her.

"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind," Vanessa said, offering a genuine smile this time.

"Girls!" Mr. Elliot’s sharp voice barked from the doorway.

"We're coming, sir!" Rachel called back.

Mr. Elliot glanced at his clipboard. "Rooms 85 and 116 need cleaning immediately."

"I'll take Room 85. You handle 116," Rachel said, picking up her cart of cleaning supplies. Vanessa nodded absentmindedly, her thoughts still tangled in the events of the previous night.

"Vanessa!" Rachel tapped her firmly on the shoulder. "Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes!" Vanessa snapped back to reality.

Rachel gave her a suspicious look, but let it drop. "Alright. Let's get to work."

Vanessa grabbed her supplies and headed toward the hallway, her mind a fog. By the time she reached the corridor, the door numbers blurred together in her head.

'Which room was it again? Room 115 or 116?'

"Ugh!" She groaned under her breath. Hoping to spot the dirty room visually, she tried Room 115 first. She unlocked it and glanced inside—pristine and untouched. "Oh, right. It's 116," she said, facepalming.

She turned around to head toward 116, but heavy footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway.

'People? Oh, God.'

She rushed back inside Room 115, hoping to wait until the footsteps passed. But instead of continuing down the corridor, the footsteps stopped directly outside the door she was hiding behind.

Her heart dropped into her stomach.

'Wait... this room?' She panicked. 'Oh God. I'm so fired!'

With panic taking total control, she reached out and turned the lock from the inside.