Before the ambulance could arrive, Sophia was suddenly lifted off the ground by two of Herbert’s bodyguards.

“Let go of me!” she screamed, her blood-slicked hand struggling against them. “Can’t you see I’m hurt? I need a hospital!”

The lead bodyguard remained stone-faced. “Young sir’s orders. You’ve crossed the line too many times. You’re to be confined for three days. Reflect on your actions.”

Sophia stared at him in disbelief. “What? I’m bleeding! If I don’t get treated, my face—I'll be disfigured!”

“The order stands,” the guard said coldly. “We’re just following orders.”

No matter how she struggled, they dragged her—injured, helpless—to the third floor, and threw her into the solitary confinement room. The heavy door slammed shut behind her, drowning out her shriek for help.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

The blood on her cheek had dried into a dark crust. Her hands, her arms—stained crimson. She looked down at herself and felt a cold chill spread through her bones.

No one was coming.

And the worst part?

Herbert knew she had claustrophobia.

She had told him once, during a rainy night when a power outage trapped her in a closet for hours. He had held her trembling body and whispered gently, “Don’t be afraid, I’m here.”

But now, he had ordered this.

In desperation, Sophia ripped off part of her shirt and pressed it to the reopened wound on her face, trying to slow the bleeding. The confinement room was small, windowless, and airtight. The housekeeper and nannies stayed on the first floor—they wouldn’t hear her even if she screamed her throat raw.

Even her phone had been taken.

If the Herbert from five years ago stood before her now, she would ask him just one thing:

Herbert, did you ever truly love me? Or was I just something you kept—like a pet you were training to obey?

The last sliver of light disappeared through the crack in the door. Darkness devoured the room, and with it came the crushing terror she thought she had long buried.

Three days. No food, no water. No light.

How could you leave me here like this, Herbert? For Kelsey?

At first, she held onto a fragile hope—maybe he would come to check on her at night. Maybe he’d remember how afraid she was of the dark.

But night came. And went.

He never came.

As the silence deepened, Sophia began to shake. Hallucinations bloomed like mold in her mind.

She was five again.

The ground shaking beneath her.

Screams.

Her mother’s arms around her.

Then nothing—only rubble.

Her parents. Her grandparents. All gone.

Only she was left.

Her stomach churned violently. She doubled over and vomited, the acid burning her throat. The stench filled the tiny room. She pounded the door with what little strength she had left, voice cracking with every scream.

No one answered.

That night was longer than a lifetime.

When footsteps echoed outside the next morning, Sophia crawled to the door with trembling limbs, her face streaked with blood and tears, hope flaring painfully in her chest.

“Uncle Lewis…” she whispered, clinging to the thought that her dearest uncle had come to rescue her.

But the door opened.

And it wasn’t Uncle Lewis.

It was Kelsey.

Smiling.

She twirled a camera in her hands—a vintage, worn one Sophia recognized instantly.

It was her father's camera.

His only keepsake.

Sophia froze, breath caught in her throat.

The last piece of her past, now in her hands.

“Wow,” Kelsey sneered from the doorway, her voice dripping with mockery. “So this is the glorious Miss Sophia? What a mess you’ve become.”

Sophia raised her head, her eyes filled with hatred despite her weakness. Her voice was hoarse. “Give me the camera.”

Kelsey held it up with a taunting smirk. “This? But what would be the fun in that? I asked Herbert for it myself, and guess what—he didn’t say a word. Are you going to be petty now?”

Sophia didn’t waste energy arguing. She staggered to her feet, swaying from hunger and blood loss, and took one step forward.

“Give it back. I’m asking you for the last time.”

For a second, Kelsey’s gaze flickered with unease. Then she turned and fled out the door.

Sophia lunged after her, pressing her body against the door to stop it from closing. But she hadn’t eaten or slept in over a day. Her strength failed her. With a cruel slam, the door shut again, sealing her back inside.

Outside, Kelsey’s voice rang out, loud and gleeful.

“Want to come out? Call me ‘Auntie,’ and I’ll let you breathe fresh air for ten minutes.”

Silence.

Then, a soft ptoo.

“You don’t deserve that title,” Sophia spat bitterly.

Kelsey laughed. “Suit yourself. Enjoy your stay.”

Her footsteps faded. Sophia clenched her fists and dug her nails into the cracks of the door, but it didn’t budge. A wave of dizziness hit her—and then, nothing.

She collapsed.

---

When Sophia came to, another day had passed.

Her body was soaked in sweat and grime. Her head throbbed, her limbs ached, and worst of all—she realized, with unspeakable shame—that she had lost control of her bladder. The stench in the room was unbearable. Her eyes burned with tears she could no longer cry.

Her body felt foreign to her.

She tried to clean herself, crawling weakly to a ragged corner of fabric to wipe away the evidence. I don’t want anyone to see me like this… I can’t let them…

But then—click, click. The unmistakable sound of heels on polished wood. A shadow loomed in the doorway.

“Squeak.”

Kelsey peeked in and recoiled dramatically.

“Oh my god, Sophia. What did you do in here? It reeks! Wait… did you… eww…”

Sophia scrambled to cover the wet floor with her clothes, but it was too late.

Kelsey’s laughter sliced through the air like knives.

“You’ve really hit rock bottom, haven’t you? Let’s make this unforgettable.”

She raised the camera—Sophia’s father’s old relic.

“No…” Sophia reached out, weak and trembling, trying to crawl to her. “Please… don’t…”

The shutter clicked.

And clicked again.

Sophia shut her eyes as the flash lit up her shame.

Kelsey knelt beside her, lifting Sophia’s chin with two manicured fingers.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like taking pictures? I’m just helping you make memories.”

A tremor of fury surged in Sophia’s chest. She summoned every ounce of strength she had left and spat—straight into Kelsey’s smug face.

Kelsey recoiled in disgust.

“Well then.” She stood, wiping her cheek. “You’re stubborn now, but when everyone sees these photos... let’s see how long your pride lasts.”

With that, she turned and left, high heels clicking. This time, she didn’t close the door.

---

Sophia waited.

Then, dragging her broken body across the cold floor, she climbed down the stairs, one slow, agonizing step at a time.

That’s when Uncle Lewis saw her.

“Miss Sophia—heavens!” he cried out, rushing to her side. “What happened to you?! You look… oh my god…”

He caught her in his arms, heartbroken. “I thought you went out with friends… I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were still in the house. This is all my fault!”

The nanny arrived soon after, both of them lifting Sophia gently into the bath.

Warm water.

A bright light overhead.

Familiar hands that cleaned her gently, like she was a child again.

That was all it took.

Sophia broke.

Under the stream of water, she clutched her nanny’s sleeve and sobbed with everything inside her.

“Mom… Dad… I miss you so much…”

The nanny held her close, whispering soothing words. Sophia thought she heard her mother’s voice again.

“Sophia, you’re strong. You’ve survived disaster. Your blessings are coming. Believe in it. Hold on.”

Yes.

She was still alive.

And that was the greatest gift.

---

After the bath, Sophia stood tall, dressed in clean clothes. She wasn’t the same person anymore. The fragile girl from yesterday had died in that room.

She walked into the living room, calm as a still lake.

Herbert was there, casually flipping through documents on the sofa.

He glanced up. “Sophia? When did you come back?”

Sophia stopped.

“Uncle,” she said coldly. “Have you forgotten? You locked me in solitary confinement for three days and nights.”

Herbert tilted his head and smiled faintly. “When you were little, you used to get locked in there for mischief. You always escaped eventually—have you forgotten?”

No.

She hadn’t forgotten.

Back then, he would hide behind the door, laugh with her, and scoop her up with a treat in hand. It was a game. A memory.

But now?

He wasn’t the man from her childhood.

He didn’t remember the difference between discipline and cruelty.

Sophia lowered her lashes, swallowing the words she wanted to say.

There was no need to tell him that she’d be leaving for abroad in seven days.

Just then, Uncle Lewis rushed in, panic etched across his face.

“Sophia! Look—these photos… Is this you?”

He handed her a phone.

Sophia looked.

And her blood ran cold.