Chapter 3

DARK ROOM

The door slammed open with a thunderous crack.

Kristen jerked upright, heart leaping into her throat. She hadn’t even heard footsteps, just the violent sound of the door hitting the wall and she knew it was him. Carlo.

He stormed into the room like a force of nature, eyes blazing, chest heaving. Every inch of him radiated fury. Kristen instinctively backed against the headboard, trying to make herself smaller.

Her hands gripped the sheets. “What… what do you want now?” she asked, voice trembling.

Carlo didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on her like a predator sizing up prey. His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched at his sides.

“You really don’t know when to shut your mouth,” he finally snarled. “You embarrassed me. In front of my staff. In front of my people.”

Kristen shook her head, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean—”

“You disrespected me!” he roared, his voice echoing through the room. “You think because you’re wearing a pretty dress and hiding behind the fact that we’re married, I won’t put you in your place?”

He lunged forward and seized her arms, dragging her off the bed like she was weightless. Kristen cried out, struggling against his grip.

“Let go of me! Stop!”

But he wasn’t listening. His eyes were wild, his grip punishing.

“You want to be stubborn? You want to act strong? Fine.” He shoved her down to the cold marble floor. “Let’s see how strong you are when I break you.”

“No–please!” she screamed, panic rising like a wave. Her knees scraped against the floor as she tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her again—rough, relentless, and lifted her over his shoulder like she was nothing more than a sack of flour.

“Put me down!” she screamed, pounding her fists into his back. “You’re hurting me! You’re hurting me!”

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t pause.

Kristen’s breath hitched with every step he took down the long, silent corridor. Her eyes darted in every direction. No one came. Not a single soul.

“Where are you taking me?!” she sobbed, desperation in every word. “Please, Carlo—stop—just talk to me!”

But he said nothing.

They reached the end of the hall—a door she had never noticed before. Thick. Wooden. Heavy. He shoved it open and carried her inside.

It was pitch black. The only light came from the hallway behind them.

Then, with no warning, he dropped her. Kristen hit the cold cement floor with a sickening thud. Pain exploded in her ankle as it twisted awkwardly under her weight. She cried out, clutching her leg.

Carlo stood over her like a shadow.

“This,” he said, voice low and cruel, “is where you’ll learn how to behave.”

He turned.

“No, wait! Please don’t leave me here!” she cried, crawling after him.

But he didn’t even glance back. He stepped outside, reached for the door, and slammed it shut. The lock clicked.

Kristen screamed, “Let me out! You can’t do this! You bastard! Let me out!”

She banged on the door with both fists. Nothing. The silence around her was suffocating. The dark swallowed her whole.

You're alone.

Outside the room...

Carlo stood still for a moment, his back to the door. His hands trembled slightly. He gritted his teeth.

“She wants to act like she’s in charge,” he muttered. “Let’s see how she handles the dark.”

“Cassy!” he barked, his voice sharp enough to make the maid jump.

She hurried over. “Yes, sir?”

“Keep her locked in there. No food. No water. No visitors. She doesn’t leave until I say so.”

The maid hesitated. “But sir… she’s just a girl.”

He turned his glare on her.

That was all it took.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered, bowing her head. “Of course.”

Carlo turned and walked away, his steps echoing through the hall. But as he reached his room, something lingered, an uneasy weight pressing into his chest. Kristen’s voice echoed in his head. Her fear. Her desperation.

Why did it bother him?

He tried to push it away. He focused on the past. On the reason he had brought her here.

Years ago…

His sister Evelyn had worked in Madam Carolina’s mansion. She had been young, quiet, sweet—too gentle for the cruel world around her. When she fell ill, she had begged Carolina for her wages to get medicine.

But Carolina had turned her away.

“She’s faking it,” she’d said. “She’s trying to guilt trip me.”

Evelyn died a few weeks later wothout help. Alone. Cold. Starving.

Carlo remembered holding her hand as she took her last breath. He had nothing to give her. Not even a blanket.

From that day on, he’d sworn revenge.

He’d lived on the streets, barely surviving, until Don Ricko found him—a powerful mafia boss who saw something in the broken boy. Carlo rose through the ranks. And when Ricko died, he inherited the empire.

Then came his chance. Carolina—older now, desperate. She came begging for a loan. She was drowning in debt. He gave her everything she asked for, using lawyers to keep his name hidden.

And then, when the time came to collect, he offered a deal.

Her daughter. In exchange for freedom.

What she didn’t know was that he’d never intended mercy.

“I’ve got her daughter now,” he muttered, standing in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie. “And she’ll pay for what her mother did.”

Hours passed.

Kristen lay curled on the floor, her breath shallow. Her body trembled with cold. Her throat was dry. Her lips cracked. She tried to stand but collapsed again, crying out as her twisted ankle throbbed.

She had screamed. Pounded the door. Begged.

No one came.

Her tears had dried on her cheeks. Her voice was hoarse. She lay still now, staring into the darkness. Maybe this is how I die, she thought. Alone. Forgotten.

Her body finally gave in, and her world went black.

Later that night…

Carlo returned home, exhausted from a meeting. He poured himself a drink, sat down, and began eating dinner.

He had almost forgotten about her.

That was, until Cassy came to him..

“Sir…” she said quietly. “The madam… she’s still in the room.”

Carlo looked up.

“So?”

“She hasn’t… come out. And I’m worried.”

He sighed, waving a hand. “Fine. Let her out. I’m sure she’s cooled down by now.”

The maid nodded and rushed away.

Moments later...

A scream echoed from upstairs.

“Sir!” Cassy’s voice rang out in panic. “Sir! It’s the madam. she’s unconscious!”

Carlo’s heart skipped.

He stood, knocking his chair back. “What?”

“I found her on the floor! She’s not moving!”