_Amelie’s POV_I didn’t sleep.Not after everything that had happened.Not after Nico left me tied up, sweating, shaking, begging for a release that never came. Not after the maid’s quiet gasp when she found me. Not even after Matteo’s mocking little whistle or the cold, silent look in Luca’s eyes when they all stood over me like I was something rotting on display.I hated the looks on their faces when they all saw me. I hated how weak I seemed at that moment.But I had survived.Even though it didn’t feel like it.Even after the cuffs were removed and my robe was tightened, my wrists burned. My skin still tingled with that phantom fire. My shame stuck to me like sweat I couldn’t scrub off.I’d taken three showers since then. None of them worked.Now I stood in front of the mirror, my eyes bloodshot, cheeks hollow, the faint outline of Luca’s fingerprints still etched into my thighs. I stared at my reflection and hated what I saw.I looked like someone who had given up.I slammed the
_Amelie’s POV_I sat in my room as I listened for any form of sound. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.After what happened in the library with Matteo—the knife, the taunting, the way he handed it back to me like an offering—I hadn’t been able to sleep.How could I?My heart still pounded every time I replayed his words. “You’re finally becoming something interesting.” I didn’t know if it was a compliment or a threat. With him, it could’ve been both.They had brought me here as a form of revenge towards my dad. But what exactly they had planned? I had no idea.Some part of me knew they were doing all that because I had betrayed them, some other part expected them to understand that I didn't have a choice. I didn’t eat dinner that night. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to feel their eyes on me—Luca’s cold calculation, Nico’s unreadable silence, Matteo’s smirk that always saw more than I wanted him to.Because all they would talk about would be me tied up in Nico’s bed. But j
_Amelia_ The morning after felt like wading through thick mud. Every one of my muscles ached but admidst the exhaustion, I was going to carry out what I had set out to do today.After everything they've done to me, they were nearly a hundred percent sure I would cower and shrink but they were wrong. If anything, what I've been put through here only makes me want to defy and prove them wrong. I dressed in the simplest thing I could find, a black slip dress that cling to my bruised skin. It wasn't about allure; it was about ownership. This was my body, scarred but unbroken, and I had no plans of hiding it. I walked into the dining room just as the maids were placing the plates and cutleries down, the triplets were at the table, each doing their own thing. I took a deep breath and approached with confidence. Matteo whistled as I approached while Luca’s gaze was fixed on me as if assessing and scrutinizing. On the other hand, Nico remained impassive, his eyes follo
:Amelie’s POVThe dress arrived in silence.I had woken up to see something that most definitely wasn’t there when I slept.No knock. No footsteps. Just a black box waiting on my bed like it had always been there. I stared at it for a long moment, half-expecting it to disappear. Like maybe it was some hallucination conjured by my exhaustion and this damned house.But it didn’t vanish.A second passed and then another. Then it finally clicked that whoever kept it there obviously wanted me to open it. Pushing the bedsheets tangled around my legs away, I crawled over to the eve of the bed where it lay.My heart thumped as I stretched my hand, reaching for the lid.The lid lifted easily, like it wanted to be opened.Inside was silk the color of spilled blood. Deep crimson, smooth like sin. Expensive. Dramatic. It pooled in the box like it knew it would cling to every curve I hated them for noticing.A dress. They had sent a dress. The dresses given time by this brothers made me loath
_Third person POV_The door shut with a clap, the three brothers staring on even though Amelie had gone out of sight.Luca remained seated at the head of the table, unmoving, the candlelight flickering against his impassive face. He didn’t know what to think about what had just happened, didn’t know what to say.Nico leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded but focused, burning holes into the space Amelie had left behind. Only Matteo reacted—his smirk cracked, a low sound escaping his throat before he threw his wine glass across the room.It shattered red streaking across the marble floor like spilled blood.He thought she had the nerves, and audacity to do what she had done. He had thought of her as mad, but he didn’t think she would be this mad.“That bitch,” Matteo growled, pacing a tight circle behind his chair. “She just walked out. After all that. After everything—she stripped in front of us like it meant nothing.”How could she even do that? It was like at that moment she h
_Amelie’s POV_The next few days had been quiet.I didn't know what the brothers were planning. I didn't even leave my room for anything. Food got delivered to me, and everything I needed was brought to my doorstep.And so when the knock came at my door, I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone.Not this late. Not after the days I’ve been having.But nothing about this place ever followed a schedule—except for how often they liked to ruin me.Knocking was so pointless when they could just walk in if they wanted to, not like it would be the first time. But I opened the door anyway.Matteo stood on the other side, leaning against the frame like he hadn’t just threatened to gut me in the interrogation room a few days ago. He held something in his hand—a glass. Red liquid. Wine. His favorite weapon.My eyes flicked from the glass to his face.I didn't know why he finally decided to come to me, but I wasn't certain if I wanted to know. “Celebrating?” I asked, voice dry.My eyes held
_Amelie’s POV_My eyes peeled open and the first thing that came to my notice was that the bed was cold.Too cold.It bit into my back like ice, the sheets stiff and unfamiliar against my skin. My limbs ached as if they’d been dragged through gravel. My head throbbed. Each breath I took felt like it was pulled through a cracked rib. The air smelled like—Cigars.Leather.Cologne.My heart clenched. No, no, no—Not this place.I forced my eyes open. The ceiling above me was ornate—ivory moldings and golden inlays etched in patterns I used to trace with my fingers as a little girl. I was home.My childhood room was gone. This was one of the guest rooms. Sterile. Controlled. A room for visitors… or prisoners.I turned my head too fast.A shockwave of pain burst behind my eyes. I whimpered, gripping the sheets. My arms—bruised. My wrists—red. Like I’d fought back. Did I fight back?Then it hit me.Matteo. The wine. The bitter sting. His voice.“Because you’re going home.”I shot up, but m
Amelie’s POVThe cameras were everywhere.I felt them before I saw them—tiny red lights blinking like electronic veins stitched into the walls, silent and watchful. The glassy eye in the corner of the hallway followed every step I took, and I could almost hear Santiago whispering through it. One wrong move, little girl. I dare you.It had been three days since I woke up in this gilded prison—back under my father’s roof, under his roof but never his protection. Surveillance had replaced silence. Guards stood like statues outside my door. My every movement was reported, tracked, catalogued. I wasn’t a daughter here.I was a variable. A problem to be solved or erased.Even when I breathed, it felt like too much noise.At dinner, I sat across from Dante DaVinci, my cousin, the family's golden vulture, smiling like the devil’s intern. He’d always been beautiful in that cruel, heartless way. Clean lines. Cold smirk. He was the kind of man that looked like he belonged in a courtroom or a fun
_Amelie’s POV_I watched as Marco’s lifeless body was carried out of the dinning hall, the carpet stained with red.I felt sorry for the man but I did what had to be done. I wasn’t going to let myself get killed off.After the guests left, Santiago dragged me into his office.He didn’t speak at first.He just stood there, looming.Then—without warning—he struck me.The slap snapped my head to the side, my lip splitting open against my teeth.The sharp crack of it echoed in the silence.I didn’t fall.I didn’t cry.I just stood there, tasting blood, my face burning.His chest rose up and down in silent anger, eyes burning into me.“Do you think you’re clever, Amelie?” Santiago said, his voice dangerously low.I straightened slowly, meeting his eyes.There was no warmth there.Only calculation.Only fury, held back by the thinnest thread of control.“I did what you would have done,” I said quietly.Wrong answer.He slammed his hand onto the desk hard enough to rattle the lamp.“You wil
Amelie’s POVI had been waiting patiently for anything. A text from the brothers or something.Then finally, the phone buzzed under my pillow in the dead of night.I jerked awake, heart pounding, hand fumbling for the burner tucked beneath the thin mattress. The screen lit up with a single message.From Nico.It said. “Don’t trust anyone. Not even the staff. Watch the cousin.”That was all the message contained.I stared at it until the words blurred.No explanation. No comfort. Just a warning, sharp and cold like a blade pressed against my throat.It obviously had nothing to say when I would be returning. I couldn’t admit it but I wanted to return. My fingers tightened around the phone.Watch the cousin.Dante.I didn’t need Nico to tell me Dante was dangerous. I could feel it every time he smiled at me like he already knew what size coffin I wore.But the fact that Nico bothered to send a warning at all?That chilled me more than Dante’s smirk ever could.They weren’t here to sav
Amelie’s POVThe cameras were everywhere.I felt them before I saw them—tiny red lights blinking like electronic veins stitched into the walls, silent and watchful. The glassy eye in the corner of the hallway followed every step I took, and I could almost hear Santiago whispering through it. One wrong move, little girl. I dare you.It had been three days since I woke up in this gilded prison—back under my father’s roof, under his roof but never his protection. Surveillance had replaced silence. Guards stood like statues outside my door. My every movement was reported, tracked, catalogued. I wasn’t a daughter here.I was a variable. A problem to be solved or erased.Even when I breathed, it felt like too much noise.At dinner, I sat across from Dante DaVinci, my cousin, the family's golden vulture, smiling like the devil’s intern. He’d always been beautiful in that cruel, heartless way. Clean lines. Cold smirk. He was the kind of man that looked like he belonged in a courtroom or a fun
_Amelie’s POV_My eyes peeled open and the first thing that came to my notice was that the bed was cold.Too cold.It bit into my back like ice, the sheets stiff and unfamiliar against my skin. My limbs ached as if they’d been dragged through gravel. My head throbbed. Each breath I took felt like it was pulled through a cracked rib. The air smelled like—Cigars.Leather.Cologne.My heart clenched. No, no, no—Not this place.I forced my eyes open. The ceiling above me was ornate—ivory moldings and golden inlays etched in patterns I used to trace with my fingers as a little girl. I was home.My childhood room was gone. This was one of the guest rooms. Sterile. Controlled. A room for visitors… or prisoners.I turned my head too fast.A shockwave of pain burst behind my eyes. I whimpered, gripping the sheets. My arms—bruised. My wrists—red. Like I’d fought back. Did I fight back?Then it hit me.Matteo. The wine. The bitter sting. His voice.“Because you’re going home.”I shot up, but m
_Amelie’s POV_The next few days had been quiet.I didn't know what the brothers were planning. I didn't even leave my room for anything. Food got delivered to me, and everything I needed was brought to my doorstep.And so when the knock came at my door, I was surprised. I wasn’t expecting anyone.Not this late. Not after the days I’ve been having.But nothing about this place ever followed a schedule—except for how often they liked to ruin me.Knocking was so pointless when they could just walk in if they wanted to, not like it would be the first time. But I opened the door anyway.Matteo stood on the other side, leaning against the frame like he hadn’t just threatened to gut me in the interrogation room a few days ago. He held something in his hand—a glass. Red liquid. Wine. His favorite weapon.My eyes flicked from the glass to his face.I didn't know why he finally decided to come to me, but I wasn't certain if I wanted to know. “Celebrating?” I asked, voice dry.My eyes held
_Third person POV_The door shut with a clap, the three brothers staring on even though Amelie had gone out of sight.Luca remained seated at the head of the table, unmoving, the candlelight flickering against his impassive face. He didn’t know what to think about what had just happened, didn’t know what to say.Nico leaned back in his chair, eyes half-lidded but focused, burning holes into the space Amelie had left behind. Only Matteo reacted—his smirk cracked, a low sound escaping his throat before he threw his wine glass across the room.It shattered red streaking across the marble floor like spilled blood.He thought she had the nerves, and audacity to do what she had done. He had thought of her as mad, but he didn’t think she would be this mad.“That bitch,” Matteo growled, pacing a tight circle behind his chair. “She just walked out. After all that. After everything—she stripped in front of us like it meant nothing.”How could she even do that? It was like at that moment she h
:Amelie’s POVThe dress arrived in silence.I had woken up to see something that most definitely wasn’t there when I slept.No knock. No footsteps. Just a black box waiting on my bed like it had always been there. I stared at it for a long moment, half-expecting it to disappear. Like maybe it was some hallucination conjured by my exhaustion and this damned house.But it didn’t vanish.A second passed and then another. Then it finally clicked that whoever kept it there obviously wanted me to open it. Pushing the bedsheets tangled around my legs away, I crawled over to the eve of the bed where it lay.My heart thumped as I stretched my hand, reaching for the lid.The lid lifted easily, like it wanted to be opened.Inside was silk the color of spilled blood. Deep crimson, smooth like sin. Expensive. Dramatic. It pooled in the box like it knew it would cling to every curve I hated them for noticing.A dress. They had sent a dress. The dresses given time by this brothers made me loath
_Amelia_ The morning after felt like wading through thick mud. Every one of my muscles ached but admidst the exhaustion, I was going to carry out what I had set out to do today.After everything they've done to me, they were nearly a hundred percent sure I would cower and shrink but they were wrong. If anything, what I've been put through here only makes me want to defy and prove them wrong. I dressed in the simplest thing I could find, a black slip dress that cling to my bruised skin. It wasn't about allure; it was about ownership. This was my body, scarred but unbroken, and I had no plans of hiding it. I walked into the dining room just as the maids were placing the plates and cutleries down, the triplets were at the table, each doing their own thing. I took a deep breath and approached with confidence. Matteo whistled as I approached while Luca’s gaze was fixed on me as if assessing and scrutinizing. On the other hand, Nico remained impassive, his eyes follo
_Amelie’s POV_I sat in my room as I listened for any form of sound. The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.After what happened in the library with Matteo—the knife, the taunting, the way he handed it back to me like an offering—I hadn’t been able to sleep.How could I?My heart still pounded every time I replayed his words. “You’re finally becoming something interesting.” I didn’t know if it was a compliment or a threat. With him, it could’ve been both.They had brought me here as a form of revenge towards my dad. But what exactly they had planned? I had no idea.Some part of me knew they were doing all that because I had betrayed them, some other part expected them to understand that I didn't have a choice. I didn’t eat dinner that night. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t want to feel their eyes on me—Luca’s cold calculation, Nico’s unreadable silence, Matteo’s smirk that always saw more than I wanted him to.Because all they would talk about would be me tied up in Nico’s bed. But j