Chapter 4: It's hurts so much.

Elena's POV

I woke up to silence. The kind of silence that felt heavier than noise.

My room was almost completely dark. The curtains were drawn, blocking out whatever little light the morning, or perhaps afternoon, had to offer. For a few seconds, I simply stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where I was.

Then I tried to move.

"Aah!"

A sharp pain shot through my body, forcing a gasp from my lips. I froze. My entire body felt sore and weak, as though I had spent the entire night carrying something far too heavy. Even sitting up felt like an impossible task.

Slowly, painfully, I pushed myself upright. And then I remembered.

My breath caught. Tears immediately burned behind my eyes. I wrapped my arms around myself, pulling my knees toward my chest as the memories came rushing back. What happened this morning wasn't something I wanted to remember, but my mind refused to let me forget.

A tear slipped down my cheek. Then another. I pressed my face against my knees and cried silently.

"It's okay, Elena," I whispered shakily. "You're going to be okay. Be strong. You're stronger than you think."

But even as I said the words, I didn't believe them. How could I? Of all the things Damien could have done to me, why did he choose to hurt me this way? He could have insulted me. He could have shouted at me. He could have punished me for something I hadn't done. Anything would have been better than what happened.

Why did he choose to take my virginity instead.

I feel so humiliated.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and stared at the floor. I had only just turned eighteen. Eighteen. I should have been thinking about my future, about finding a better life, about escaping this mansion and finally becoming independent. Instead, I was sitting alone in a dark room, trying to understand how everything had fallen apart so quickly.

"What have you done to me?" I whispered. My voice broke. "I've worked for this family until my body couldn't take it anymore. I've cleaned their rooms. I've served their meals. I've done everything they asked of me."

I swallowed hard. "And what did I get in return?"

Nothing. Not even a simple thank you.

My eyes filled with tears again. "I never owed your father anything," I whispered bitterly. "And I certainly never asked to be treated like this."

For years, I'd tried to prove that I wasn't like my father. Whatever mistakes he had made, they weren't mine. Yet somehow, I had become the one paying for his sins.

A deep baritone voice suddenly echoed from somewhere beyond my bedroom door. My entire body stiffened.

"Que el otro gerente se encargue. No quiero que quede nada sin terminar. Que lleguen los autos nuevos y que todos los barcos nuevos tengan la marca. Que ninguno se quede con el símbolo."

I didn't understand everything he was saying, but I recognized the voice instantly. Damien. Just hearing his voice was enough to make my stomach twist. He had always made me nervous from the moment I stepped into this mansion.

"¿Estás seguro? Entonces, ponte manos a la obra y no llames si aún no has terminado."

His footsteps moved farther away. I stared at the door. For a moment, I couldn't breathe.

I guess the saying was true. Think of the devil, and he appears.

"Bastard," I whispered. My voice trembled. "I hate you so much."

My stomach suddenly growled. I closed my eyes. "Seriously?"

I hadn't eaten breakfast. I hadn't eaten anything. Apparently, even after everything that happened, my body still expected me to continue living as though nothing had changed.

I took a deep breath. "You can do this, Elena."

I slowly pushed myself off the bed. My legs trembled beneath me. I grabbed the edge of the mattress and waited until I felt steady enough to move. One step, then another. Each movement reminded me of how badly I hurt. I clenched my jaw and forced myself forward.

I gathered the oversized clothes I normally wore and made my way into the bathroom. The moment I closed the door behind me, I broke down again. I stood beneath the shower, letting the water run over me as I cried. I cried because I was angry. I cried because I was frightened. I cried because I didn't know what I was supposed to do next. Most of all, I cried because a part of me desperately wanted someone to tell me that none of this was my fault.

But there was no one. So I had to tell myself.

"It's not your fault, Elena." I repeated it quietly. Again and again, until I could finally breathe.

After bathing, I changed into clean clothes and stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were swollen from crying. I looked exhausted. Broken. I quickly looked away. I didn't want to see myself like that.

I left the bathroom and carefully made my way toward the hallway. The mansion was already busy. Workers moved from one room to another, carrying trays, cleaning supplies, and laundry. The moment one of them noticed me, she frowned.

"Elena?"

I stopped.

"What happened to you?"

I forced a smile. "Nothing."

She looked at my careful steps. "Don't tell me nothing. You're barely walking.

I quickly looked away. "I tripped."

"Tripped?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"My ankle." I gave a small shrug. "I think I twisted it."

She looked unconvinced, but thankfully, she didn't ask more questions.

Another maid approached. "Elena, where have you been since morning? You weren't even at breakfast or lunch."

"I had to get something done."

"What kind of thing?"

I forced another smile. "Just something personal. I'm back now."

She nodded before walking away. I waited until she disappeared around the corner before releasing the breath I'd been holding.

I couldn't tell them. I couldn't tell anyone. The truth felt too humiliating. And I didn't know who I could trust.

I continued walking. Every step was painful. By the time I reached the staircase, I almost turned around.

"Oh, God."

I stared down at the stairs. Why did there have to be so many? Normally, they were nothing. Today, they looked like a mountain.

I grabbed the railing. One step, then another. Slowly, painfully, I descended. Halfway down, I stopped and closed my eyes.

"Come on, Elena." I breathed deeply. "You've survived worse."

I wasn't sure if that was true, but I needed to believe something.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally reached the last step. I almost sighed with relief.

Instead of heading toward the main hall, I made my way outside. I needed air. I needed somewhere quiet. Most importantly, I needed somewhere Damien wasn't.

The garden was usually my favorite place in the mansion. It was the only place where I could sometimes pretend that I had a normal life.

As I approached the entrance, I spotted Lucas.

"Hi, Lucas."

He turned immediately. His face brightened. "Elena." He walked toward me. "It's good to see you. Where have you been all day?"

I gave him a small smile. "Busy."

"Busy doing what?"

"Working."

He laughed. "You're terrible at lying."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you're terrible at minding your business."

He grinned. "There she is. I was beginning to wonder where my favorite troublemaker went."

Despite myself, I almost laughed. Almost.

"Lucas, you know your boss is home, right?"

"Yes."

"Then shouldn't you be at your duty post?"

He chuckled. "He won't sack me."

"You're very confident."

"I have my ways."

"What ways?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly stopped. His eyes moved down to my feet. His smile disappeared.

"Elena."

I immediately became nervous. "What?"

"Why are you walking like that?"

I looked away. "I told you. I hurt my ankle."

He stepped closer. "Did you really?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry?"

My throat tightened. I looked at him. For a second, I considered telling him everything. Everything that had happened. Everything I had been carrying alone. But fear stopped me.

"I just haven't eaten," I whispered.

Lucas stared at me for a moment. Then his expression softened. "Come and sit down."

He guided me toward a bench in the garden. I sat carefully. He remained standing in front of me.

"Wait here."

"Lucas.."

"Don't argue."

He walked away before I could stop him. A few minutes later, he returned with some food and a bottle of water.

"You're impossible," I muttered.

He smiled. "And yet you keep talking to me."

I took the food from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

For the first time since I woke up, I felt something other than fear. Peace.

Lucas sat beside me, and we talked. At first, it was about ordinary things. The workers. The garden. Something funny one of the maids had done earlier. Then Lucas started telling me a ridiculous story about one of the guards nearly falling asleep during his shift.

I laughed. A real laugh. It surprised me.

I covered my mouth. "I can't believe you."

"What?"

"You're so stupid."

"Thank you. I take that as a compliment."

I laughed again. For a few minutes, I forgot where I was. I forgot about the mansion. I forgot about Damien. I forgot about the pain. I simply sat there with someone who made me feel like I was still Elena. Not a servant. Not someone's punishment. Not my father's daughter. Just Elena.

But neither of us noticed the curtain upstairs. Behind it, someone stood perfectly still.

Damien watched from the window. His eyes remained fixed on Elena and Lucas. His jaw tightened. The sight of her laughing with another man seemed to ignite something dark inside him. His fingers curled around the curtain.

"Slut," he muttered coldly. His eyes narrowed. He watched as Lucas said something that made Elena laugh again. Damien's expression hardened.

"So that's why you're smiling."

He released the curtain. His face became unreadable. But the anger in his eyes remained.

***

And downstairs, completely unaware of the storm gathering above her, Elena smiled for the first time that day.