Return of the Tamed Heiress

Grace's POV

As soon as I woke up, I raised my head slowly and gazed at the still clock on the wall, a reminder of my misery. The clock had stopped ticking. For five years it's been like that, just like the way I am, stuck in a cold tiny room with nowhere to go, no one to talk to, and nothing to hope for.

I heard the sound of the door creaking open. Slowly, I turned my head to see who it was, but it's difficult. My vision was blurry. All I could make out were legs moving toward me. The sound of footsteps echoing in my ears.

I gripped my torn dress tightly, my hands trembling as memories flashed through my mind. The last time someone visited me, I was left in pain and with bruises all over my body.

I held my breath and pressed my back against the wall as if it could protect me. Suddenly, the figure stopped right in front of me, and my stomach clenched. That's when I saw her face, but I didn't recognize her.

"Hi, Grace. It's been a while, hasn't it?''

I looked at her again, but no matter how I tried, I couldn't remember who she was. “You must be wondering who I am,” she said with a sly smile, tilting her head. “Well, my name is Leila. And the reason I’m here? I just wanted to say hello to my mentor.”

Mentor? I couldn't believe my ears. My heart skipped a beat as I thought about it for a moment. For the first time in years, something stirred inside me. Hope, foolish hope, and happiness. Although I didn't know who she was, I believed she was here to save me.

“Please... help me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible.

But instead of compassion, she burst into laughter. "What the heck?" She said as her laughter died down. ''You seriously think I came here to help you?''

She scoffed and continued. "I only came to see what you look like after so many years. So save yourself the stress and stop dreaming of leaving here. No one will help you; we are always one step ahead.''

My heart sank in my chest, and dread surged through me instantly. I swallowed hard and stared at her in disbelief. I needed no one to tell me that she's my stepmother's clique. And she wasn't here to save me but to humiliate me just the way my stepmother and her son usually do.

I bit my lips bitterly as tears slid down my cheeks. Suddenly, memories began to flash into my mind. Some years ago, I can't recall how long since I've lost count of time but I remember being a vibrant and happy girl. Laughter used to come easily. I’d dance barefoot in our garden without a care, twirling around in flowing dresses while the staff clapped and smiled. I had friends, I had dreams. My father used to call me his star and promise me the world.

Back then, I believed him. Back then, I thought nothing could go wrong. Everyone loved me, or so I thought. Not until my father, the prestigious billionaire Frederick Wellington, died suddenly of a heart attack.

That was the day everything began to change. I woke up that fateful morning, expecting it to be like any other. But instead, my day turned into night.

Almost immediately after my father's funeral, I found myself locked in this stingy, cold room. The last thing I remembered was my stepmother handing me a cup of coffee and wishing me good morning with a broad smile on her face.

I never knew that behind that smile was a plan. And that plan is exactly where I am now. Leila took a step closer and crouched, her face now inches from mine.

“I won't lie, Grace,” she whispered mockingly. “You were something back then. The golden girl, the perfect one. Everyone wanted to be you. But look at you now.” Her eyes scanned me from head to toe like I was filth.

“This is what happens to people who don’t know their place.”

I clenched my fist tightly and glared at her. I wanted to speak, I wanted to defend myself, but my mouth refused to move. She stood up again and smoothed her dress, like touching me had somehow wrinkled her.

“I could end your suffering, you know,” she added casually, walking toward the door. “But where’s the fun in that?”

She paused with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder, her expression cold as she gazed at me for the last time.

“Say hi to the rats for me.”

With that, she pushed the door open and walked out. I sat there, shaking, tears dripping freely from my eyes. Not because I was weak, but because I finally understood something:

They didn’t just want me gone; they wanted me broken. And if I don't find a way out soon, they’d get exactly what they want.

I sniffled loudly and wiped off my tears, forcing myself to breathe. My whole body ached, and my stomach churned from days without food, but a small ember of defiance burned inside me. I needed to find my way out of this hole. Although I've been trying to no avail, I needed to do it again. Maybe, just maybe, I might be lucky.

I forced myself up. I could hear my joints cracking as I leaned against the wall, trying to steady my breath. I hadn’t eaten properly in days. My legs were weak and trembling, but I couldn't stop.

I took a step forward, but suddenly my vision darkened. Pain exploded in my skull, and the last thing I heard was an unfamiliar voice calling out. “Ma’am! Ma’am, are you okay?!”

I collapsed to the floor. My head slammed against the tiles, and a sharp yelp escaped my lips before everything went black. I thought I was dead. But when I opened my eyes, I saw a face I never believed I’d see again.