CHAPTER 3

When Renata arrived at her new apartment, she could only stare in disbelief. The place Dominic Sinclair had given her was enormous—easily ten times the size of the dingy boarding room she used to live in.

The ceilings were high, the walls spotless, and each step she took echoed softly across the white marble floors. The whole space looked as if it had been lifted straight from a luxury interior magazine—modern, immaculate, and… eerily quiet.

She dropped her small bag from her shoulder and stood in the middle of the living room, taking in the gray sofa, the glass-top coffee table, and the wide city view framed by floor-to-ceiling windows. Everything looked perfect, and maybe that was the problem. It felt too perfect.

“So?” a voice broke the silence. “Do you like it?”

Renata nodded. It would’ve been a lie to say she wasn’t impressed. But her awe faded almost instantly, replaced by a bitter awareness—none of this came from her own hard work. Everything around her was paid for with her own dignity.

Dominic looked around briefly before his eyes settled back on her. “Alright then. From now on, this apartment is yours. I’ll drop by from time to time.” He tapped his phone lightly. “The password is 3132.”

Renata swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

Dominic turned toward the door. “I’ll be going now.”

“Wait—sir!” Renata called out quickly, her voice trembling. “About the money…”

He paused, raising an eyebrow before walking back toward her. “Ah, right. I nearly forgot.” He stopped close—too close—and she caught the sharp scent of his cologne. “How much do you need?”

Renata lowered her gaze, fingers twisting together. “Just… twenty million to start with, sir. My sister’s therapy begins this week.”

Dominic studied her for a moment, as though weighing something deeper than the amount itself. Then he took out his phone and began typing. “Check your account.”

Renata fished her phone from her bag, and a second later, the screen lit up with a notification.

Transfer received: Rp50,000,000.

“Sir… that’s too much.”

A faint smile tugged at his lips. “Consider it an advance. I don’t like small matters cluttering my mind.”

Renata stayed quiet, lowering her head. But then, without warning, he tilted her chin upward. His lips brushed hers—quick, deliberate, and enough to leave her frozen.

“For the time we didn’t get to finish in the car,” he murmured.

Her cheeks burned. She wiped the damp corner of her mouth with her thumb, heart thundering violently in her chest.

When Dominic finally walked out and the door clicked shut behind him, the sound felt like a dividing line between two worlds—her old, simple life and this new one, too lavish to ever feel like home.

Renata remained standing there long after he’d gone. Her lips still tingled, though not from the kiss itself—it was the pounding in her chest that wouldn’t stop. She took a long breath, trying to steady herself.

Her gaze fell to the phone still in her hand. The transfer notification glowed on the screen, staring back at her. Fifty million rupiah. A number she’d only ever dreamed of—now it felt like both a lifeline and a noose.

She sank onto the edge of the sofa, staring blankly ahead before dialing a number she knew by heart. The line rang several times before a soft voice answered.

“Hello? Renata?”

“Mom…”

Her voice cracked. She forced a small smile, even though no one could see it.

“You’re at the hospital, right?”

“Yes. Alea just fell asleep after her morning therapy. But Renata, I don’t know who else to borrow from—”

“Mom, don’t worry,” Renata cut her off gently. “I… I managed to get a loan. A big one. Alea can continue her treatment next week.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by her mother’s trembling sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God… Renata. Where did you get that kind of money?”

Renata’s eyes dropped to the marble floor. Her reflection shimmered faintly on its polished surface, looking like a stranger.

“From someone I know,” she said quietly. “Someone kind enough to help.”

“You’re sure this isn’t causing any trouble?”

“No, Mom. I promise everything will be fine.”

She could hear her mother’s shaky breath, the sound of emotion thickening her words.

“Thank you, Renata. I know you’re always doing your best. Alea will be so happy when she hears this.”

Renata squeezed her eyes shut. Doing my best, she repeated inwardly. If only you knew who I owe it to.

“Mom, I’ll call again later, okay? I still need to settle into this new place.”

“Alright, honey. Take care, and don’t overwork yourself.”

“I will, Mom.”

The call ended. Silence returned.

Renata stared down at the phone resting on her lap. The money was hers now. Alea would get her treatment. So why did her chest feel even tighter?

“I didn’t sell myself,” she whispered, almost like a prayer. “I’m just saving Alea…”

But the more she repeated it, the thinner the line became between truth and the lie she was trying to believe.

***

Renata set her phone aside and looked around the spacious apartment. The air conditioner hummed softly—the only sound breaking the stillness. She rose slowly, walking through the space as if trespassing in someone else’s home.

The dim lights from the living room cast a warm glow over the meticulously arranged furniture. Yet something felt… off.

Too neat. Too ready.

She stopped in front of a glass wardrobe that reflected her faint silhouette. One of the doors was slightly ajar. Curiosity tugged at her feet.

Her pulse quickened for no reason as she reached for the cold metal handle.

The door creaked open—and her breath hitched.

Inside hung rows of silk lingerie, ranging from soft pastels to daring shades of red and black, all in her exact size. Some pieces still had their boutique tags attached.

Renata swallowed hard. She brushed her fingers over one delicate fabric, the smooth texture like a whisper against her skin—then snatched her hand back as though it burned.

“Why does it feel like all of this was… prepared for me?” she murmured.

She stepped back, unease creeping up her spine. Her gaze drifted toward the nightstand beside the bed. One drawer was slightly open.

With trembling hands, she pulled it out.

Something glinted inside. A pair of metal handcuffs, heavy and cold, lay on a bed of black velvet. Beneath them—other objects she recognized instantly, though she wished she didn’t. Her cheeks flushed hot; goosebumps crawled across her arms.

Renata slammed the drawer shut, heart hammering. She stumbled backward, almost tripping on the thick carpet. Blood rushed in her ears, the room spinning faintly around her.

And then—her phone buzzed in her pocket.

One new message from Dominic Sinclair.

[How long do I have to wait for a woman to stop bleeding before I can touch her again?]