His face came back so clearly it almost hurt. That easy smile. That quiet confidence. The way he looked at me like I was… worth something. Ezekiel’s older brother. The second mafia prince of the syndicate. The one who was supposed to take everything before it all fell apart.

I was nothing when Hunter found me. Just a kid sold into this life, passed around, used, stepped on. I learned early not to fight back because it only made things worse. I kept my head down, did what I was told, endured whatever came.

Until one day…

They cornered me. A few of the older staff, smiling, cruel, and bored. I remember thinking… this is it. This is how it ends.

And then he walked in.

Hunter didn’t even raise his voice. He just looked at them, and that was enough. They backed off immediately, like they remembered who he was.

He came over to me after, “You alright?” he asked, voice softer than I expected.

I couldn’t answer. I just stared at him.

From that day on… he didn’t leave me alone. Not really. He’d bring me food from outside, things I’d never tasted. He’d check on me when I was sick, sometimes showing up with medicine before I even knew I needed it. He never made it loud. He just… stayed.

And somewhere along the way, I started waiting for him. I didn’t even notice when it turned into something more. But I knew. We both knew. Even if we never said it out loud.

Because what was the point?

He was who he was.

And I was… this.

Still, one night, he held my hand. “Wyna, wait for me, okay? I’ll make a name for myself. I’ll earn it properly. And when I do… I’ll come back and ask for you. The right way.”

I believed him.

I waited. Day after day. Year after year.

And then the news came.

He died.

Gone in some deal that turned into a war. No body. No closure. Nothing left except words.

My world didn’t shatter. It just stopped.

But I remembered what I told him. That no matter what happened, I’d still be his.

In life.

Or in death.

That was when I heard it.

Ezekiel was going to be sent into enemy territory again, part of a larger mafia negotiation between families, a hostage move, nothing new in this world. But to me… it wasn’t just politics. It was a door, a thin, shaking door I could finally push open.

He wasn’t favored, not really. Third prince, lowest in standing because of his mother’s background, always treated like he was replaceable. But I knew better. I had seen him close enough. He wasn’t weak. He just hadn’t been given the chance to become dangerous yet.

And I gambled everything on that. If he rose… I could reach my own end too. So I followed him. Not because I was loyal, but because I was desperate and I won.

He did rise.

Ezekiel became the head of everything. Mafia boss. Untouchable. The kind of man people whispered about instead of speaking to directly.

And now there was going to be a formal gathering where he rewarded everyone who helped him get here. That was my moment. Not for power. Not for status. I didn’t want to stand beside him. I didn’t want his world. I wanted something else entirely.

I would kneel in front of him and ask for one thing only. An official order. A legal recognition that I could marry Hunter. Even if Hunter was dead. Even if the world moved on. Let me be recorded as his wife. Let me enter his family name properly. Let me belong to him in life and death, just like I promised.

Was that too much to ask?

I didn’t think so. For once… I felt warm thinking about it, like maybe everything I suffered wasn’t just pointless.

Then reality pulled me back.

Reed came to me.

“Miss Elowyn,” he said carefully. “Boss didn’t really eat tonight. He said his stomach’s acting up again and… he wants the soup you used to make.”

I froze for a second.

That soup.

I remembered it too clearly. Back when Ezekiel was still sent out as a hostage in enemy territories, when everything around him was unstable and he couldn’t eat anything without getting sick. I used to cook it for him every day because nothing else stayed down in his system.

Over time, it became a habit. No, worse than that. Dependence. He stopped accepting it from anyone else. Only me. Only my hands.

So I sighed quietly and forced myself up even though my body still felt heavy. My legs were sore, my head dull, but I didn’t argue. I went to the small kitchen and made it. Same recipe. Same steps. Same silence.

While stirring the pot, I thought, is this all I am now? A memory he refuses to let go of? Or just something useful?

When it was done, I held the bowl carefully and was about to hand it to Reed, but he shook his head.

“You should take it yourself,” he said. “He won’t accept it from me anyway. Boss has always been like that. He relies on you for things he doesn’t even notice. Miss Cassandra… it’s different now, but maybe he’s just confused. Maybe he’ll realize soon…”

I didn’t listen to the rest. I just tightened my grip on the bowl.

“I don’t care,” I said softly. “I don’t care who he chooses.”

And I meant it.

I walked toward his room and stopped in front of the door. My hand hovered for a second. My chest felt tight, but it shouldn’t have. So I pushed it open anyway.

And I froze.

Inside, Ezekiel was there, not alone. Cassandra was in his arms, her hair slightly messy, her clothes half undone, and his mouth was on hers like nothing else in the world existed outside that moment.

It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t accidental. It was real.

I stood there, holding the soup, completely still.

The door barely opened before everything changed.

Cassandra jolted and she quickly pulled herself closer into Ezekiel’s arms, clinging to him as if I was some kind of threat that had just walked in uninvited.

Then she pointed at me.

“You—!”

Her voice sharpened instantly, all softness gone.

“Are you serious right now?” she snapped. “She just walked in here? No knock, no announcement, nothing? That’s insane. Who does she think she is? She has no manners at all. None.”

I stood there holding the soup bowl, my fingers tightening around the ceramic until it almost hurt, my hands shaking a little. Why am I shaking? I didn’t even do anything wrong. But my body didn’t care what I thought.

For a second, I almost forgot what this place used to be. Back then, when Ezekiel was still getting targeted in enemy territories, he used to wake up from nightmares shaking and furious, and the only way he could sleep was if I stayed nearby, so he gave me access and no one questioned it. That was the old rule. But rules didn’t mean anything anymore.

I slowly lowered my head.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

My knees bent before I even fully decided to move, and I knelt down. “I know I was wrong for coming in without permission,” I added, still not looking up. “I disturbed the boss and Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra didn’t stop there.

She leaned closer into Ezekiel like she was performing for an audience, her tone turning sharper, almost disgusted.

“No, no, this isn’t just a mistake,” she said. “She does this on purpose. She’s been around too long, so she thinks she’s above rules. That’s what it is. People like her always act entitled when they get too comfortable.”

She tilted her head toward me.

“And honestly, it’s disgusting. Standing there pretending to be loyal when she clearly doesn’t understand her place.”

My throat felt tight, but I didn’t react. What place? Did I even have one anymore?

Ezekiel looked at me then, not angry, not kind, just… complicated in a way that made my chest feel heavier. But Cassandra didn’t give him space to think.

“She needs to be punished,” she said quickly. “If you don’t correct this now, she’ll keep doing it. Next time she’ll walk in during meetings. Or worse. You can’t just let her off with an apology. That’s not how respect works.”

Silence followed.

Then Ezekiel spoke.

“Since you disrupted her,” he said, eyes still not fully on me, “you’ll handle it yourself.”

I blinked once.

Did he just…

“Slap yourself,” he added.

The room felt smaller after that.

My fingers went numb around the bowl, and for a second I actually looked at him. Really looked. And I saw it. His eyes weren’t fully here, like he was somewhere else I couldn’t reach anymore.

Cassandra smiled, small and satisfied.

My chest dropped.

So this is it, huh?

I slowly set the soup bowl down, my movements distant, almost automatic, like I was watching someone else do it. Then I knelt again, and raised my hand.

The first slap landed hard across my face.

The sound cracked through the room.

Cassandra leaned forward immediately.

“Oh wow,” she said, almost laughing. “That’s it? That’s what you’re doing? Are you even trying? That looked pathetic.”

My cheek burned. I didn’t answer.

Second slap.

Harder.

My vision blurred for a second, but I kept going. Another. And another. I lost count somewhere between pain and silence, my skin stinging, then splitting slightly at the corner of my mouth, warm blood mixing with cold air.

Cassandra kept talking.

“Honestly, if you’re going to do it, at least do it properly,” she said. “Or is this your way of begging for attention? Acting weak so he feels sorry for you?”

I kept slapping. Because what else was I supposed to do? Stop? And then what?

Ezekiel finally spoke again.

“Enough,” he said.

No emotion. Just finality.

Cassandra turned to him instantly.

“Are you stopping it because you feel bad for her?” she asked softly, voice sharp underneath. “Or because you don’t want me upset?”

He didn’t answer that directly. Instead, he pulled her closer.

“I’m not thinking about her,” he said. “I just don’t want my appetite ruined.”

He turned slightly toward me.

“Bring the soup,” he ordered.

So I did.

My face throbbed with every step, but I still walked over and lifted the bowl again.

Cassandra leaned in the moment I placed it down, sniffed it, then smiled.

“Oh,” she said brightly. “This actually smells really good.”

Then she looked at Ezekiel.

“Can I try it?”

“Sure,” he said without hesitation.

She took a spoonful, paused, then smiled wider.

“This is amazing,” she said, voice turning sweet again as she wrapped herself around his arm. “Boss, why don’t you just give her to me? She’s useful. I could use someone like her at my place.”

My hand tightened slightly at my side.

Give me… away?

Like I was a tool?

Ezekiel frowned a little.

“No,” he said. “She’s the only one I rely on for certain things. Pick someone else.”

Cassandra’s face changed instantly, not angry, not upset, just petulant. She leaned closer, voice soft but sharp underneath.

“But I want her,” she said slowly. “Just for one day. Just send her to me for a day. That’s not a big deal, right? You can always take her back.”

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

“Please? Just one day. Don’t you spoil me a little?”

“…Fine,” he said. “Just for a day.”

Something inside me went still.

A day.

That’s all it took.

Cassandra smiled immediately, victorious, then turned to me.

“Get up,” she said. “You’re coming with me.”

I stood slowly. My face still burned, and my mouth still tasted like blood. My body still felt like it didn’t belong to me.

But I moved anyway.

Because I always move when told.

…

The moment we stepped into her place and the door shut behind us, everything changed.

The smile on Cassandra’s face disappeared, completely gone, leaving behind something cold and empty, something real. She didn’t need to speak at first, because one look was enough for the woman beside her to move.

I didn’t even see it coming.

A sharp kick slammed into the back of my knee, forcing my leg to give out instantly, and I dropped hard onto the floor. Pain shot up my spine, and a broken sound slipped from my throat before I could stop it.

Cassandra walked toward me slowly, without any rush or hesitation, her heels clicking softly against the floor, each step controlled and deliberate. Then she crouched down and grabbed my chin, her nails digging into my skin as she forced my head up.

Her eyes were cold.

“So,” she said quietly, her voice calm but carrying something darker underneath, “you’re more useful than I thought.”

Her grip tightened slightly.

“Even he hesitated to give you to me. That’s impressive. For someone like you.”

Someone like me.

I didn’t respond, because there was nothing I could say.

She leaned closer, her gaze sharp and almost curious.

“But don’t misunderstand,” she continued, her voice lowering, “if he actually cared about you, do you think I’d be able to treat you like this right now? Do you think he’d stand there and watch you get humiliated and not stop it?” Her lips curved faintly. “No. If you mattered, you would be untouchable.” Her nails pressed harder into my skin. “So get that into your head. You’re not special. You’re just something he got used to using.”

Something he got used to using.

I lowered my eyes.

“I understand,” I said quietly. “I won’t think beyond my place.”

She studied me for a moment, then let go abruptly and pushed my face to the side.

“That’s good,” she said. “Because if I ever find out you’re still holding onto stupid thoughts, I won’t just embarrass you. I’ll break you properly, slowly, and I won’t stop until you beg for it to end.”

I swallowed, my throat dry.

“I won’t,” I repeated softly.

She stood up and brushed her hands together as if she had touched something dirty.

“Good,” she said. “Then start working.”

And it didn’t stop after that.

She had me in the kitchen first.

“Cook,” she said simply.

So I did. I made what she asked for, careful and precise, following every step the way I knew how. She took one bite, then frowned.

“Too salty,” she said flatly.

Before I could respond, she picked up the bowl and threw it. The hot food hit my arm and chest, burning instantly. I flinched, but I didn’t step back.

“I’ll make another one,” I said.

The second time, she tasted it again.

“This is bland,” she said, her voice colder now. “Do you even know what you’re doing, or are you just pretending to be competent so you can stay close to him?”

The bowl came at me again.

I made it again.

And again.

And again.

Each time, there was something wrong. Too much. Too little. Not right. And each time, it ended the same way.

By the time she was done, my hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the utensils anymore.

Then she got bored.

“Clean the place,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “All of it. I don’t want to see a single spot left untouched.”

All of it.

Ground floor. Stairs. Rooms. Top floor.

I didn’t argue.I just started.

I wiped floors, scrubbed surfaces, cleaned glass, and carried things back and forth until my arms felt heavy and useless. Every movement hurt, but I kept going. Time blurred, and at some point I stopped thinking.

Just move. Just finish. Just don’t stop.

When I finally finished, I stood there quietly, waiting.

She walked through the space slowly, looking around, then clicked her tongue.

“This is what you call clean?” she said, her tone filled with disgust. “Are you blind, or just stupid?”

My chest tightened.

“I’ll redo it,” I said.

She laughed, a short and sharp sound.

“No,” she said. “You don’t get to fix it that easily.”

She turned slightly.

“Bring it,” she ordered.

Someone stepped forward behind me, and before I could react, they grabbed my hands, rough and tight. Something hard pressed against my fingers.

Wood.

My breath caught.

“Wait—”

Too late.

They tightened it.

Pain exploded through my fingers so suddenly I couldn’t even process it. It felt like my bones were being crushed slowly and deliberately. I gasped, my body jerking forward as a broken sound escaped me.

Cassandra watched, calm and attentive, as if this was nothing more than a passing moment.

“This is what happens,” she said, her voice steady and almost bored, “when someone forgets their place and tries to act above it.”

The pressure increased.

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A scream tore out of my throat, raw and uncontrollable, echoing through the room.

It hurts! It hurt so much.

My vision blurred, my body shaking, but they didn’t stop. Not until I couldn’t even tell where the pain ended anymore.

…

By the time Reed showed up to take me back, I was barely holding on.

My body felt heavy, my hands throbbed, my back burned, and every breath hurt. I didn’t even know how long I’d been there. Cassandra looked at me before I left, her lips curving into a slow, cold smile.

“Look at you,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re still alive. That’s impressive.”

Her eyes dropped to my hands, then back to my face.

“When you get back,” she continued, her voice soft but sharp underneath, “you know what to say and what not to say, right? Or do I need to remind you again?”

I lowered my head.

“I understand,” I said quietly.

She stepped closer.

“No, I don’t think you do,” she murmured. “Let me make it clearer. If you open your mouth and say anything you shouldn’t… even a single word… I won’t just hurt you next time. I’ll make sure you beg for death and still don’t get it.”

My fingers trembled slightly.

“I won’t say anything,” I repeated.

She smiled.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

Then she waved her hand dismissively.

“Take her away. She’s making the place look ugly.”

Reed didn’t say much when he helped me out, just a quiet look, a tight jaw, controlled anger he didn’t show. We went straight back.

Ezekiel was already in his room, sitting behind his desk, going through documents like nothing else existed. He didn’t even look up when we walked in.

“You’re back,” he said flatly. “How was your time with Cassandra?”

I opened my mouth, but I didn’t get to answer.

“Boss!” my friend rushed forward, dropping to her knees so fast it echoed. “You have to do something! Elowyn was tortured! Cassandra didn’t just punish her, she went too far! Her hands… they almost—”

“Enough.”

Ezekiel’s voice cut through her instantly.

He finally looked up, not at me, but at her, his eyes sharp.

“Take her out,” he said. “Twenty lashes.”

My friend froze.

So did I.

My heart dropped.

“No—” I forced myself forward despite the pain and dropped to my knees. “Boss, this has nothing to do with her. She just spoke out of turn. Don’t punish her for this, please—”

His gaze shifted to me, annoyed.

“Nothing to do with her?” he repeated slowly. “She just accused someone who’s about to stand beside me publicly. You call that unrelated?”

My chest tightened.

“She didn’t mean it like that—”

“She spoke,” he cut in. “And what she said crosses the line. That’s enough.”

Future… beside him.

So that’s how it is.

Even words against Cassandra weren’t allowed.

Not even a little.

I swallowed hard, then lowered myself further until my forehead touched the floor.

“Then let me take it,” I said quietly. “Punish me instead. She doesn’t deserve this.”

There was a pause, heavy and dangerous.

“Elowyn,” he said, his voice colder now, “are you going against me?”

I didn’t move.

“I’m asking you to let me take it,” I repeated. “Please.”

Silence stretched.

“Fine.”

The word hit hard.

“If you want it so badly, you can have it,” he said. “Take her place. Twenty strokes.”

My back went stiff.

“Take her out,” he added, already looking back down at his desk. “Make it count.”

They dragged me out before I could think anymore.

Then it started.

The first hit landed across my back, sharp and heavy, knocking the air out of me. I bit down hard.

Second.

Third.

Each one tore through me, pain spreading deeper and hotter until I couldn’t tell where it started or ended.

Don’t make a sound.

Don’t make a sound.

I clenched my teeth harder.

By the time it ended, I wasn’t sure how I was still conscious.

They dragged me back to my room after.

I didn’t even feel the ground properly anymore.

Just… weight.

Darkness.