Davina's POV:
As I stumbled out of the dimly lit room and into the brighter hallway, a figure emerged from the shadows near the nurses' station. My father's wife, Federica. Her face, usually carefully composed, was a mask of cold fury. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, locked onto mine.
"Well, well," she sneered, her voice low and venomous. "Look what the cat dragged in. Back to pick over the bones, are you?"
My own emotions, raw and exposed from my encounter with my father, flared into anger. "What are you talking about, Federica? Your husband is the one beaten half to death! Instead of talking nonesense, maybe you should take better care of my father."
"What do you imply you little viper?" she hissed, taking a step closer. "Your reappearance can only bring trouble. You were better off staying away, just like your precious sister."
Her words were like a dagger in my heart, each syllable laced with years of resentment. "Don't you dare talk about my sister!" I retorted, my voice rising. "I came to see my father, because I was told he had a heart attacked and he wanted to see me. "
"Lies!" Federica spat, her face inches from mine. "You're nothing but a bad omen, Davina. Always have been. Your father would neverr want to speak to you. "
"You are one to speak, stepmother. If it wasn't of your loose morals, my parents would still be with my mother. His real wife." I said with all the rage I've been holding inside me for years.
Her hand shot out, catching me off guard. The force of the slap rocked my head, a sharp sting blooming on my cheek. Federica's slap landed with a sickening thwack, the force of it sending a jolt through my skull. The immediate sting was nothing compared to the burning humiliation of being assaulted in a public hallway, the shocked faces of strangers a blur in my vision.
"You venomous little leech!" Federica snarled, her breath hot and laced with years of pent-up hatred. "You think you can just waltz back in here after all this time and accuse me? No wonder your father left your mother. She couldn't raise her daughter to keep her mouth shut!"
"Don't you dare bring my mother into this!" My own anger, simmering since my father's brutal rejection, finally boiled over. "This has nothing to do with her! Your husband is lying in there, beaten! Shouldn't you be more concerned about that than slinging insults?"
"Concerned?" Federica's laugh was sharp and brittle. "This is probably your fault somehow! You always were trouble, a dark cloud hanging over this family from the moment you were born!"
Before I could react, two figures appeared as if from nowhere. Cecilia, Federica's daughter from her previous marriage, grabbed her mother's arm, her face etched with embarrassment. "Mama, please! This is a hospital."Cecilia's grip on her mother's arm tightened, her face pale with distress. "People are watching!" Her voice was a desperate plea, but Federica seemed beyond reason, her fury a raging inferno.
"Let me go, Cecilia!" Federica shrieked, trying to wrench her arm free. "She needs to know her place! She doesn't belong here!"
It was Nathan, my younger half brother, who finally managed to create some distance. His hand on my arm was firm but gentle, pulling me steadily away from the volatile scene. His expression was a mixture of apology and a quiet understanding of the toxic dynamic I was caught in.
"Davina, please," he murmured, his voice low and calming amidst the chaos. "Just come with me. There's no point in this."
I allowed him to lead me, my cheek throbbing, my heart pounding with a confusing mix of anger, hurt, and a growing sense of unease.
"Stay away from him!" Federica's voice echoed down the hallway, sharp and unwavering. "Stay away from our family! You're not welcome here!"
Nathan kept walking, his grip on my arm reassuringly steady. We didn't stop until we were outside, the relatively normal sounds of traffic and distant chatter a stark contrast to the emotional violence I had just experienced.
He finally released my arm, turning to face me, his eyes filled with a weary sadness. "I'm sorry, Davina. My mother... she's been through a lot."
"And what about me, Nathan?" My voice was raw, the carefully constructed composure I usually maintained crumbling under the weight of the day's events. "I came here because I thought my father was dying. Instead, I find him beaten, and his wife attacks me in the hallway. What exactly have I walked into?" My question hung in the air, unanswered, the weight of the unknown pressing down on us both.
"I'm so sorry Davina. It's not your fault." he said and run his hand through his hair. "My mum is not the easist person to deal with, I know that, and I'm so sorry for what she did to you. I will have a word with her. I promise you!"
A comfortable silence settled between us for a moment. He might be Federica's son, but he has nothing in common with that vicious woman. Finally, I took a step back. "Well... I should probably... go."
Nathan nodded again, his eyes filled with a quiet concern. "Take care, Davina. I'll text you for updates." he pulled me into a warm embrace.
"You too, Nathan."
I turned and started walking, away from the hospital. As I walked, my mind replayed the events of the past hour – the anonymous call, my father's battered face and hostile rejection, Federica's venomous words and the stinging slap. It all felt surreal, like a scene from a poorly written drama. Yet, the throbbing on my cheek was undeniably real.
Narrator's POV:
Unbeknownst to Davina, as she navigated the bustling sidewalks, a figure kept pace a safe distance behind. They moved with a practiced ease, blending seamlessly into the flow of pedestrian traffic.
Their gaze, though seemingly casual, remained fixed on her retreating form, a silent shadow. They had witnessed the confrontation outside the hospital, heard the raised voices.
Now, their boss gave a clear order, ensure Davina Wilson won't disappear again. Their reasons, were clear. But yet for Davina, like the anonymous call that started it all, remained a shrouded in mystery.
Why is Federica so cruel with Davina? Why is she accusing her? Who is the silent shadow stalking Davina?
Davina's POV:The world tilted. Not from the coffee or the stale air, but from the raw, sickening rage that surged through me. Bruises. On Lexi. My sister, sweet, gentle Lexi, pregnant, and Dexter, that pathetic, hateful worm, had laid hands on her. The casual, almost dismissive way she'd tried to hide them, the fear in her eyes when I'd caught her, twisted the knot of fury in my gut into something hard and unyielding. My own pain, my own fear of Ezra, faded into insignificance. This was real. This was immediate. And it demanded action.I pushed back from the table so abruptly my chair scraped loudly across the floor, drawing startled glances. Lexi looked up, startled, her eyes wide with apprehension. But I wasn't looking at her. My gaze, sharp and cutting, bypassed the bustling café patrons and landed on Ezra's men, casually positioned by the entrance, their eyes lazily scanning the room. They weren't just guards; they were extensions of his control, silent enforcers of my gilded cage
Davina's POV: The thought of stepping outside, of breathing air not filtered through Ezra's penthouse or the one from the club, was a tantalizing, terrifying prospect. After hanging up with Lexi, a surge of defiant energy mixed with crippling dread. How would I even leave? Ezra had made it clear I was a prisoner, I could only go to the club with him and be back to his penthouse. My mind raced, contemplating defiance, but the sheer scale of his control. There was only one way. I found Ezra in his private gym, a sleek, modern space humming with the low thrum of high-tech machinery. He was on the bench press, his powerful chest heaving, veins prominent in his forearms as he pushed an impossible amount of weight. Sweat sheened on his skin, glistening over taut muscles that flexed and rippled with each controlled movement. His black tank top clung to his torso, defining every sculpted line, his dark hair damp and falling across his forehead. My mouth went dry. A primal, unwanted heat
Davina's POVThe air in the penthouse felt heavy, suffocating. Every breath was a reminder that I was still here, trapped, under his roof. My body still thrummed with the phantom tremor of that night in the basement. His face, purple and lifeless, was seared into my mind, and Ezra's eyes, those cold, dead eyes of a killer, haunted my waking hours and invaded my nightmares. He was a monster. A true monster, not just in reputation, but in brutal, bloody reality.I moved through the luxurious rooms like a phantom, trying to make myself invisible. My entire being was dedicated to one, singular purpose: repaying the debt. Nothing more. It was my only escape route, the only path out of this gilded cage. I measured my life in numbers now – how much more, how many more hours, how much closer to freedom.He was always there, a silent, imposing presence. I felt his eyes on me, even when he pretended not to watch. I kept my gaze fixed on anything but him. When he entered a room, I found an excus
Ezra's POV:The heavy doors of my office had clicked shut behind me that night, a sound that sealed her in, and, I realized now, sealed me out. In the days, weeks, that followed, the silence from Davina was a colder, more potent weapon than any scream. She was back in the penthouse, under my watchful eye, ostensibly safe. But safe from me? That was the question that clawed at me, day and night.She moved through the vast, opulent spaces like a ghost. Her initial terror had solidified into a chilling, unwavering resolve. She kept herself meticulously out of my reach. When I was in the living areas, she was in the library or the assigned office space I'd had set up for her. When I went to the gym, she would be gone, presumably in her room. Meals were a silent, agonizing ballet of avoidance. Her eyes, when they met mine, were devoid of the fire, the anger, the warmth that had once burned there. Now, there was only a stark, blank wall, or a flicker of revulsion she quickly masked.She was
Davina's POV The sting on my palm lingered, a sharp echo of the slap I’d given Ezra. My heart hammered, not from exertion, but from the raw, volatile storm raging inside me. I’d run from his office, the heavy doors slamming shut behind me, sealing in the acrid scent of his rage, the taste of his desperate, bruising kiss. Every nerve ending screamed, run, get out, never look back. But where? The club was a labyrinth, a cage he owned. I found myself stumbling back to the dressing room, the stale air thick with cheap perfume and unfulfilled dreams. I yanked the door shut, leaning against it, my chest heaving. The mirror reflected a stranger: wild eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, hair disheveled. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the girl who just wanted to pay off a debt.
Ezra's POV:The searing pain on my cheek was nothing compared to the gaping wound Davina had torn open in my chest. Criminal. The word echoed, burning, twisting every attempt I had made, every sacrifice, into something vile. She hated me. She wanted to be free of me, and the world I moved in. And in my rage, I had pushed her further away, forced her hand, made her loathe me even more. The taste of her furious kiss still lingered, a bitter, tantalizing ghost, mockingly juxtaposed with the fresh sting of her slap.My hand dropped from my face. Anger, raw and consuming, coiled in my gut, needing an outlet. This volatile emotion, compounded by the simmering tension with my father and the looming Sokolov threat, had nowhere to go. My focus sharpened, narrowing on the most immediate, tangible problem. There had been reports from my men, whispers of a low-level crew trying to skim from one of my protection rackets, or worse, trying to leverage information they'd overheard about the recent De