Eliana Bennett burst out of Rafael Vexley’s lavish bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the icy floors of his sprawling mansion. The shock of cold travelled up her legs, jolting her awake in a way nothing else could. She clutched desperately at the oversized white shirt hanging off her shoulders—his shirt. It barely covered her thighs, the crisp fabric sticking to her skin, damp with sweat and lingering fear.
Her hair was a wild ss of curls, tumbling around her face like a storm she couldn’t ta, each strand a reminder of how utterly out of place she was in this palace of perfection. The pristine hallway, lined with towering windows that welcod the shy morning sun, only made her feel smaller. She prayed under her breath that everyone in the house was still asleep. The idea of being seen like this—hair tangled, eyes swollen with unshed tears, drowning in the scent of him—made her stomach twist with humiliation.
Her wide, panicked eyes flicked down the endless corridor, heart hamring against her ribs with every step. Each beat was a cruel reminder of what she’d done. Or what had been done to her. I slept with him. Oh God... I actually slept with him. The words looped endlessly in her mind, scraping against her sanity like shards of glass.
She hadn’t ant for any of this to happen. Sure, she’d co here ready to sell herself to him—because what other choice did she have? Her father was dying, and Rafael Vexley was her only lifeline. But this? Waking up next to him, half-naked, her body aching in places she couldn’t comprehend, his arm heavy across her waist as if he owned her... This wasn’t part of her plan. Especially when she hadn’t even been conscious for it. A shiver tore through her at the mory of his lips brushing her temple, tender and possessive in a way that felt like a sick joke.
She quickened her pace, feeling like a thief sneaking out with stolen dignity. The mansion felt like a maze designed to keep her trapped, with its crystal chandeliers overhead, it’s gleaming floors, and ornate gold fras housing portraits of powerful, untouchable people who seed to watch her with silent judgent.
Her breath ca out in ragged bursts as she rounded a corner, searching desperately for the exit. Please... just let leave before anyone sees like this. But as always, fate had its own twisted sense of humour.
"Oh my God. What do we have here?"
A voice sharp and dripping with mockery cut through the silent hallway. Eliana froze mid-step, her blood turning to ice. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and felt her heart sink.
At the end of the corridor stood a girl who looked like she’d stepped straight out of a glossy magazine cover. She couldn’t have been older than eighteen, with sleek blonde hair pulled into a painfully tight high ponytail that shimred under the chandelier light. Her face was pretty in that harsh, intimidating way, her features sharpened by perfectly done makeup that scread money and ti to spare. She wore a matching designer athleisure set that hugged her slim fra, the brand logos practically shouting her status to the world.
Celina Vexley.
Those piercing blue eyes swept over Eliana, raking her from head to toe. Taking in the oversized shirt that drowned her small fra. The bare legs peeking out beneath its hem. The flushed, tear-stained cheeks.
"Who are you?" Celina demanded, crossing her arms, her manicured nails tapping against her elbow. "And how the hell did you get into my house?"
Eliana’s mouth opened, but no words ca out. Her throat was tight, her mind a whirlwind of sha. "I—I’m—" she stamred, clutching the shirt tighter, as if it could shield her from the piercing gaze.
Celina’s eyes narrowed, and she snapped her fingers. "Maids! Get over here!" Her voice echoed through the hall, and within monts, five won in crisp black uniforms appeared, their expressions a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Celina pointed at Eliana, her tone icy. "Who is this? And why is she prancing around my house looking like that?"
One of the maids, an older woman with kind eyes, hesitated before stepping forward. "Miss Celina, that’s... that’s Eliana. She’s Mr. Rafael’s new caregiver."
Celina’s perfectly arched brows shot up, and then she laughed—a loud, cruel sound that bounced off the marble walls. "Caregiver? Caregiver?" She doubled over, clutching her stomach as if the idea were the funniest thing she’d ever heard. The maids shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting between Celina and Eliana. "Oh, this is rich! You’re telling this... this stray is supposed to be taking care of my brother? Look at her! She looks like she just rolled out of his bed!"
Eliana’s face burned, her hands trembling as she took a step back. "I—I didn’t—" she started, but Celina cut her off, her laughter turning sharp and vicious.
"Oh, please! Don’t even try to deny it. You’re wearing his shirt, for God’s sake!" Celina’s eyes glead with malice as she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. "What, did you think you’d seduce a blind, crippled man and get a piece of the Vexley fortune? Newsflash, sweetheart—my brother can’t even see you, and he sure as hell can’t... you know." She wiggled her fingers suggestively, her lips twisting into a sneer. "I didn’t even know he could perform in that departnt, considering he’s, what, paralyzed from the waist down? And blind as a bat!"
The maids gasped, one stifling a giggle behind her hand. Eliana’s heart plumted, the realization hitting her like a slap. This is Rafael’s sister. The cruelty in Celina’s voice, the way she spoke of Rafael with such disdain—they could have pass off as the cruel twins. Tears stung Eliana’s eyes, hot and unstoppable, as she stood there, exposed and humiliated.
"I—I need to go," Eliana whispered, her voice breaking. She turned and bolted, her bare feet pounding against the floor as Celina’s laughter chased her down the hall.
"Wait!" a softer voice called after her. Eliana didn’t stop, but the sound of footsteps followed. Clara, the younger maid, caught up to her, her face flushed with concern. "Miss Eliana, please, co with ."
Eliana shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I can’t... I can’t stay here..."
"Just for a mont," Clara pleaded, gently touching her arm. "Let help you."
Reluctantly, Eliana followed Clara to the maids’ quarters, a small, utilitarian space tucked away from the grandeur of the main house. Clara rummaged through a locker and pulled out a simple blue dress and a pair of flats. "Here," she said softly, handing them to Eliana. "These are mine. They’ll fit you."
Eliana’s lip trembled as she took the clothes, her voice only a whisper. "Thank you, Clara. You... you don’t know what this ans."
Clara offered a small, sad smile. "You don’t deserve what Miss Celina said. She’s... she’s not kind. But you’re not alone, okay?"
Eliana nodded, her throat too tight to speak. She changed quickly, the modest dress a stark contrast to the oversized shirt that had marked her sha. As she slipped on the flats, Clara pressed a recharged bus card into her hand. "Get ho safe," she murmured.
Eliana clutched the card, her eyes welling up again. "I’m never coming back here," she vowed, her voice fierce despite the tears. "Never."
She fled the estate, her heart pounding as she navigated the winding driveway and out the iron gates. The early morning air was cool against her tear-streaked face, but it did little to soothe the fire of humiliation burning in her chest. She walked to the nearest bus stop, her steps heavy, her mind replaying Celina’s cruel words, Rafael’s deceptive warmth, the weight of her own desperation.
I sold myself. For nothing.
The bus ride was a blur. Eliana sat at the back, her face pressed against the window, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. The other passengers, absorbed in their own worlds, paid her no mind, but she felt exposed, as if they could see every crack in her heart. She couldn’t believe she’d gone to Rafael Vexley’s estate, thinking she could barter her dignity for her father’s treatnt, only to be humiliated beyond asure.
When she finally reached her small, rundown apartnt, Eliana collapsed onto the worn couch, her sobs wracking her slender fra. The tiny space slled of her father’s aftershave and the faint mildew of poverty, but it was ho—a sanctuary from the nightmare she’d just endured. She couldn’t face her father, not yet, not with the sha clinging to her like a second skin.
The bath was her salvation. She stood under the lukewarm spray, scrubbing her skin until it was raw, as if she could wash away the mory of Rafael’s touch, Celina’s laughter, her own naivety. I’m done with him, she thought fiercely. I’ll never see Rafael Vexley again. I’d rather sell my organs at the black market for money than take his humiliation ever again.
She was just pulling on a clean pair of jeans, her hair still damp, when her phone rang, shattering the fragile silence. The screen displayed the hospital’s number, and her heart lurched. "Hello?" she answered, her voice hoarse.
"Miss Bennett, this is Dr. Patel’s office," a calm voice said. "Your father’s treatnt has started imdiately. We need you to co by later to sign so docunts."
Eliana frowned, her hand tightening around the phone. "But... I haven’t paid the deposit yet. Dr. Patel said no treatnt would start until—"
"The funds have been covered," the voice interrupted gently. "Mr. Rafael Vexley paid for everything."
Eliana’s legs buckled, and she sank to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from her grasp. "W-what?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Please co by later today," the voice continued. "We’ll need those signatures." The call ended, leaving Eliana staring at the phone, her mind reeling. Rafael paid? Why?
Before she could process the shock, her phone rang again, this ti from an unknown number. Numbly, she answered. "Hello?"
"Miss Bennett," a crisp male voice cut through the line, each syllable clipped with practiced professionalism. "This is Jas Evans, Mr. Vexley’s assistant. I’m calling to inform you that Mr. Vexley expects you at work tomorrow, bright and early."
There was a brief pause, just long enough for his words to sink in like cold water down her spine, before his tone sharpened with quiet warning.
"He doesn’t give third chances, Miss Bennett. I suggest you don’t make the sa mistake twice."
Eliana’s lips parted, but no words ca out. Her voice was trapped sowhere deep in her chest, buried under the shock crashing over her like a violent wave. Her heart thundered so hard it hurt. She sat there on the cold floor, staring blankly ahead, her mind spinning while her body felt impossibly heavy—like she’d forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to exist at all.
What the hell just happened?
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