Chapter 4: The Morning After

I didn't sleep.

How could I? Every time I closed my eyes, I felt their hands on my body. Heard their voices. Tasted them.

At 6:45 AM, I dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, scrubbing my skin until it was raw. It didn't help. Nothing would help.

When I got dressed, I deliberately chose the most conservative outfit I'd brought — high-necked sweater, jeans. Like fabric could somehow protect me from what was coming.

My phone showed 6:58.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My lips were still swollen. There were marks on my neck I'd tried to cover with concealer. Evidence of what I'd become.

7:00.

I walked down the hallway on legs that felt like water. The mansion was silent — my mother still asleep, the staff not yet arrived. Just me and the two men who now owned every piece of me.

Silas's office door was open.

He sat behind his desk, perfectly composed in another immaculate suit, reading something on his tablet. He didn't look up when I entered.

"Close the door. Lock it."

I did.

"Come here."

I walked forward until I stood in front of his desk. The same desk where—

"How did you sleep?" he asked, still not looking at me.

"I didn't."

"Good. I want you exhausted. Vulnerable. It makes this easier." He finally raised his eyes to meet mine. "Strip."

My hands froze on the hem of my sweater. "What?"

"You heard me. Take off your clothes. All of them. I want to see what belongs to me in the daylight."

"My mother—"

"Is still asleep. And even if she wasn't, that door is locked. No one's coming to save you, Elena. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."

My fingers trembled as I pulled the sweater over my head.

"Slower," he commanded. "I want to watch you come undone."

It took forever. Each piece of clothing felt like I was shedding another layer of protection, another piece of who I used to be. When I was finally naked, standing in the early morning light streaming through his windows, I'd never felt more exposed.

"Beautiful," he murmured. "Turn around. Slowly."

I did, my face burning with shame.

"Stop. Bend over the desk."

"Silas—"

"That's 'Sir' when we're alone. And you don't question me. Ever. Now bend over my desk, or I make one phone call and your mother finds out exactly what kind of daughter she raised."

I bent over the desk, the wood cool against my bare skin.

Behind me, I heard him stand. Heard the soft sound of a drawer opening.

"This is how it's going to work," he said, his voice calm, almost gentle. "Every morning at seven, you come to this office. Some days, it'll be me. Some days, Julian. Some days, both of us. You'll do whatever we ask, without question, without hesitation. Do you understand?"

"Yes." My voice was barely a whisper.

Something cold and smooth pressed against my inner thigh. I jerked, but his other hand came down on my lower back, holding me in place.

"Stay still. This is just a reminder of who's in control."

The object — I realized it was glass — trailed up my thigh, circling but not touching where I was already shamefully wet.

"Your body already knows who it belongs to," he observed. "Now we just need your mind to catch up."

The glass pressed against my entrance, and I gasped.

"Every time you sit in class, every time you're with your friends, every time your mother asks if you're happy here—I want you to remember this moment. Remember that you're ours. That we can take you apart whenever we want."

He pushed the object inside me — not far, just enough to make me feel invaded, claimed.

"You'll wear this all day. When you sit, when you walk, when you eat breakfast with your mother, you'll feel it and remember what you are. If you take it out before I give you permission, there will be consequences. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir." The words tasted like ashes.

"Good girl." His hand stroked down my spine, almost affectionate. "You can get dressed now. But first—"

He pulled out his phone and I heard the camera click. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Insurance," he explained. "In case you get any ideas about backing out of our arrangement."

I got dressed with shaking hands, hyper-aware of the object inside me with every movement. It wasn't large, but it was impossible to ignore.

"One more thing." Silas opened another drawer and pulled out a small box. "Your new phone. Your old one had too many... distractions. This one only has the contacts I've approved. My number. Julian's. Your mother's. Your university email. That's it."

"What about my friends—"

"Are no longer your concern. You'll tell them you're busy with the move, with your new life. You'll make excuses until they stop asking. Do you understand?"

I stared at the phone in his hand. This was real. This was actually happening.

"Take it, Elena."

I took it.

"Now go have breakfast with your mother. Smile. Tell her how excited you are about your new school, your new life. Convince her that everything is perfect. Because if she suspects for even a second that something is wrong—"

"I understand."

"Yes?" He stepped closer, his hand cupping my chin. "Because I don't think you fully grasp what you've gotten yourself into. Last night was just the beginning. We're going to break you down, rebuild you, shape you into exactly what we need. And by the time we're done, you won't even remember the girl you used to be."

A door slammed somewhere in the house.

"That'll be your mother waking up," Silas said, releasing me. "Better hurry. And Elena? I'll be texting you throughout the day. When I do, you'll send me a photo. Whatever I ask for. Wherever you are. No exceptions."

I stumbled toward the door, my legs unsteady.

"Oh, and Elena?" His voice stopped me at the threshold. "Julian's waiting in your room to give you your instructions for this evening. Don't keep him waiting."

I walked down the hallway in a daze, my body hyperaware of every step, every shift of the object inside me.

When I opened my bedroom door, Julian was sprawled on my bed, looking at something on his phone. He glanced up, and his smile was pure predator.

"Morning, beautiful. Ready for round two?"

Behind me, I heard my mother's voice calling from downstairs.

"Elena! Breakfast is ready!"

Julian's smile widened. "Better answer her. And remember — we're watching. Always watching."

I looked at the smoke detector, at the corners of the room where cameras could be hidden.

And realized I wasn't just being watched.

I was being hunted.