Yvette's pov   The first thing I registered was the quiet.  And I mean, quiet. Like, deep-space, soundproof-room quiet. Which is just wrong. My apartment in Queens was the noisiest place anyone would ever live in.  The sound of the train, the family upstairs screaming at each other in a language I don't know, my cousins and everyone talking all at once.   It’s never, ever quiet.  This was tomb-quiet.  My eyes cracked open. The ceiling was a mile away. The bed I was in felt like its own zip code, and the sheets felt like water. Cool and silky. For a second, I thought I had been transported to somewhere else.  Then, it all came rushing back.  The deal. The car. This penthouse.  My new cage.  I sat up, the stupidly expensive sheets pooling around me. The place was huge. Bigger than my whole apartment building, probably. And it was all done up in shades of well, shades of nothing. Gray, cream, charcoal. It was elegant, sure. Expensive. But this place now felt like I was living in
 Last Updated : 2025-09-10
Last Updated : 2025-09-10