Chapter 1: The First Encounter

Ezra peered through the video camera, contemplating his next move as he observed the beautiful redhead woman standing outside his gate, drenched by the pouring rain. She'd been there for over three hours, and her thin dress, resembling a nightgown, was sticking to her skin, leaving little to the imagination, including her underwear. It was an oddity, most fans would have left long ago or at least come prepared with an umbrella. Something was off with this woman, as though she was fleeing from something rather than seeking him out.

Ezra wasn't known for his altruism, his nature was more pragmatic and cautious. Years of being a famous rockstar had made him wary of strangers, especially ones who appeared so unexpectedly. Yet, there was something about her that piqued his curiosity.

With a resigned sigh, Ezra decided to take a chance. He pressed the intercom button and spoke into the intercom speaker, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity mixed with caution.

“What’s your name?”

The unexpected voice over the intercom startled the woman, causing her to jump and whirl around, searching for the source of the sound. Her wide-eyed gaze scanned the area, trying to locate the origin of the voice that had pierced the rainy afternoon.

“The speaker and video are behind you, you can speak from where you’re standing.” 

“M-my n-name is Shannon Christensen. James Sycamore sent m-me to t-this address. I’m l-looking f-for Ezra Barlowe,” the woman’s voice was chattering, probably from the cold and her voice was soft and hoarse, he could barely hear what she was saying but he caught the name James Sycamore.

This made him stand straight, her surname sounded familiar but he didn’t think twice when he heard her mention James’ name, one of his Father's long-time friends whom he had lost contact with. He quickly pressed a button to open the gate and got a towel to meet the woman at the front door. 

As Ezra steps closer to the woman, a heavyweight settles in his chest, almost suffocating him. She stands there, looking delicate and exposed, trembling in the chilly rain. Her thin clothes clung to her skin, her arms scattered with bruises, her wrist had chaffings as if it was tied with something thin and tight, and her feet were bare and covered in blisters, telling a story of pain and struggle. Despite her striking appearance, her face reveals distress with a couple more bruises at her left temple and jawline and her pale skin hints at underlying troubles. With lips dry and white, it's clear she's been through a lot. 

Clutching a soggy piece of paper, she extends it to him. Ezra accepts it, squinting to decipher the smudged writing amidst the raindrops. Though most of the text is illegible due to the rain, his name stands out clearly, as if the universe itself refused to let it be erased.

"Y-your address," she stammers, her voice shaking with cold. "It's already f-faded, but I had it m-memorized by heart. James has mentioned y-your family a lot of t-times. I have no one to t-turn to or anywhere else to g-go..." Her words taper off as exhaustion overtakes her, and she slumps against the doorframe.

Ezra swiftly caught her shoulders before she could collapse, draping a towel over her trembling form, and quickly carried her to the living room. She had lost consciousness, her skin chilled to the bone despite the warmth of the room. As he watched over her, Ezra couldn't help but wonder what series of events had led this woman to end up in such a state, seeking refuge in the home of a complete stranger.

***

“Mistress… Are you alright?” James whispered at the attic door. 

Shannon's hairline was bleeding, and she struggled to maintain consciousness as she attempted to make sense of the situation. Despite her familiarity with such abuse, it seemed she would never grow accustomed to it. The mistreatment from her stepmother on bad days had become routine, and she often braced herself for the blows. However, there were times when her stepmother, drunk with alcohol, resorted to using objects instead of her hands. While the occasional slaps were tolerable, being struck with a cell phone felt like being hit with a wine bottle— an experience Shannon, unfortunately, knew all too well. 

"I'm okay, James," Shannon reassured the aged butler from behind the locked door as she lay on the floor, gathering her thoughts. "I think I'll need a couple of band-aids. Can you slide them under the door for me later? I'm still feeling a bit dizzy to stand up."

"I got it," James responded softly. "Stay still and let me know if it gets worse. I'll try to sneak in at midnight to get you the medicine."

"Don't bother with the medicine," Shannon insisted, her voice strained with concern. "You need to rest, especially with Mother and Karina here. I don't want you getting into trouble because of me. How many times do I have to tell you to leave this household? It's not worth it. I'm old enough to take care of myself now."

"You're not a bother, Shannon," James replied firmly. "I may be old, but I'm not foolish enough to abandon you in this dreadful place. I may not be able to do much else for you, but I owe it to your father to take care of you in any way I can." With that, holding on to his walking cane, he limped away from the door, cutting off any further arguments.

Shannon couldn't shake the worry about James staying up late to tend to her needs, waiting until her stepmother and stepsister were asleep. However, she found some solace in knowing that James had managed to obtain a duplicate key from her stepmother, allowing him to enter and tend to her whenever they were absent. 

For a decade, Shannon had been confined to the attic of Christensen Mansion, her glimpses of daylight limited to the rare occasions when her stepmother and stepsister were absent. Despite the opportunity to venture out, she remained hidden within the mansion, fearing that her presence would bring trouble to James, the loyal family butler who had been a constant presence in her life for years.

As Shannon lay on the floor, trying to regain her composure, she heard the heavy footsteps approaching from outside. The sound of keys turning fills the air, and light floods into the room as the door swings open. Standing in the doorway are two women, both glaring at her with menace in their eyes. Clarisse, her stepmother, holds a piece of paper, while Karina, her stepsister, brandishes a cable cord.

Confusion and disorientation cloud Shannon's mind as she attempts to rise, but Karina swiftly binds her hands with the cable cord, causing her to wince in pain. Despite the agony, Shannon refuses to cry, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her tears after enduring a decade of mistreatment and abuse.

"What do you want?" Shannon retorts defiantly as Karina forces her to kneel before Clarisse.

"You know exactly what we want, little sister," Clarisse replies coldly, her tone dripping with malice. "You've known ever since you heard Papa's will."

"He's not your father. You have no right to call him that!" Shannon snaps at Karina, her resentment is evident as she rejects the idea of her father being referred to in the same way by her stepfamily.

"Whatever. It's not like he's alive to even hear it now," Karina sneered, her tone dripping with disdain as she rolled her eyes.

"Sign the papers and you'll be free to go," Clarisse demanded, thrusting the pen and paper towards Shannon's face.

Shannon's glare intensified, her resolve unyielding as she refused to comply.

"Mom, I knew she'd be like this. You know how stubborn this b*tch can get," Karina complained, her frustration evident in her tone.

Clarisse bent down and grabbed Shannon’s jaw with her hand, her polished nails digging through her skin, “Sign the papers or something worse can happen. If you don’t want your butler to end up like your father, you better listen to me now.” She threatened her.

“You think your father’s death was an accident? A person has a million ways to die, you’re already a walking idiot if you fell into a stupid trap. Your father didn’t see it coming to him. He was too soft even for a calculative bastard like him. I still can’t believe he left everything to you without telling me!” Clarisse slapped Shannon’s face which made her slump on the floor because of the strong impact.

Upon hearing her stepmother’s words, Shannon felt like an ice-cold shower was poured over her. It never occurred to her that her father’s death wasn’t an accident. She was too young to understand crime and investigations, but everything was cleared, and declared that her father’s death had been an accident. 

Just in time, James came to the door to find Clarisse and Karina inside. He saw Shannon sprawled on the floor with her hands tied but what really caught his attention was the paper on the floor, a piece of paper that would be handing Shannon’s inheritance to her stepmother and stepsister. He knew this moment was coming and had already prepared for it multiple times, he knew what he had to do.

He ran over and dropped to his knees to hug Shannon and slipped something in her hand before quickly whispering to her, “No matter what happens, run. Run as fast as you can and never look back.

“Great! Now that the butler is here, do you want to watch him keel over instead of you being beaten up?” Karina threatened. 

“Honey, we don’t want anyone kneeling over just for some piece of paper. Don’t you Shannon dear?” Clarisse remarked as if it was an everyday topic they talked about.

Shannon clenched her teeth and gave a subtle nod to James. She wasn't prepared for what was about to unfold, but James had already set the plan in motion for her escape from this oppressive household. Without hesitation, James rose from his seat and seized Karina, forcefully knocking her to the ground before swiftly tackling Clarisse. It was a feat too demanding for a man of his age, yet he sacrificed his well-being to buy Shannon precious time.

Seizing the opportunity, Shannon sprang to her feet and sprinted out of the room as fast as her legs could carry her. The minutes that followed felt like an eternity as she descended the three flights of stairs, her heart pounding with every step. Just as she reached the main door of the mansion's entrance, she heard a sudden, hysterical shriek coming from the attic, followed by frantic shuffling noises and a sickening crack, like a sack of sand tumbling down the stairs.

Pausing in shock, Shannon turned back to see James's bloodied body sprawled on the tiled floor below. His limbs contorted at odd angles, indicating multiple dislocations, yet he still drew breath. With a pained expression, he turned to Shannon and managed to utter, "Go," before closing his eyes, blood staining his lips as he slipped into unconsciousness.