Chapter 3

The following day, Donovan had someone complete all the necessary procedures for me. Then, he sent a driver to take me to his house.

The butler led me to a room that seemed to follow the theme of a love motel. It didn't go with the rest of the villa. Still, I thanked the butler and shut the door so I could rest.

I curled up on the bed and drifted off without realizing it. The sky had already gone dark when I woke up. My stomach still vaguely hurt, so I got up, wanting to get a glass of warm water.

I'd just gotten to the door when someone tried and failed to open it from outside. Then, they started pounding on the door. As soon as I unlocked it, it was kicked open, making me fall to the floor.

Before I could process the situation, Donovan stormed in, picked me up, and threw me onto the bed. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes were bloodshot as he glowered at me.

"You've had too much to drink. Let me get you something for that." I wanted to get up, but he pinned me to the bed by gripping my neck.

"Don't you know what you're here for?" He unbuckled his belt with his other hand while speaking.

Of course, I knew. So, I didn't resist and allowed him to vent his frustrations on me. I didn't react to his ministrations, nor did I display any emotion. I was more like a dead body than anything else as I lay beneath him and stared at the mirrors on the ceiling.

Later, he dragged me up and grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at the mirrors on the wall. His tone was mocking as he said, "This room is like a cheap motel. It matches how worthless you look right now."

My chest clenched painfully as a strong wave of humiliation washed over me. I felt suffocated.

Suddenly, Donovan flipped me around and gripped my face, pushing my cheeks inward with his fingers. "You moaned like such a tramp when we first slept together, didn't you? Why are you acting like a dead body now? Make some noise! Do you want the money or not?"

My pride and dignity shattered when he mentioned my first time. I looked up at him, smiling through my tears as I said, "So, my first time was worthless to you."

He abruptly stopped his rough actions and didn't move for a long time before pushing me away. I asked, "Why are you humiliating me like this when you've already gotten your revenge and a successful career?"

"Because your family will never be able to compensate me for what you owe." Donovan got dressed and straightened his wrinkled shirt, looking frosty as he spoke. Then, he left the room, slamming the door shut.

I wrapped my arms around my knees as I curled up in the middle of the room filled with mirrors.

…

From that day on, I allowed Donovan to do whatever he wanted with me as long as he paid me one million dollars per month as agreed. He said, "You're nothing but a toy I'm keeping with me. You don't deserve to see the light of day."

Because of that, he only allowed me to leave the house once a month and only under close supervision.

I wasn't his only toy, though. He had plenty of them. He would occasionally bring one back with him, but I noticed those women resembled me in one way or another.

Once, the woman he brought home looked so much like me that I almost thought she was my long-lost sister. She moved into the Slater residence, and Donovan stopped coming to my room.

He and the woman were always together. He would bring her shopping, then make me bring her something warm when she was having her period despite me barely being able to move due to period cramps. Then, he would feed her.

She kept trying to chase me away when Donovan was out. Once again, she stopped me at the top of the staircase. "Don told me you're nothing but a hooker. This house doesn't have space for two women, so you'd better hurry up and get lost if you still have some semblance of shame in you."

"We're not really that different." I smiled at her.

This infuriated her, and she slapped me. Her manicured nails were sharp, so they drew blood on my face. I was about to retaliate when I heard some noise downstairs.

She heard it, too. She immediately leaned to the side and rolled down the stairs. I sucked in a breath at that—she was ruthless even to herself.

She landed at Donovan's feet and grabbed his pants while weeping. "Don…"

Just then, I walked downstairs and stood across from him. He frowned, his gaze turning menacing as he asked, "Did she hit you?"

I nodded. He kicked the woman away, looking contemptuous. Then, he approached me.

The woman's eyes widened in disbelief. "Didn't you say I could piss her off as much as I wanted, Don? Why are you caring for her and not me?"

"I did say you could do that, but you crossed the line when you laid a hand on her. Pack your things and get the earth out of here right now," Donovan said icily. Then, he held my hand and pulled me away to tend to my wound.

His actions were gentle—he even blew on my wound when applying medication to it, seemingly afraid that I would be in pain.

In the past, I probably would've fallen right into his trap of tenderness. But now, my heart was almost dead when facing him.

I stared at him dazedly. He suddenly pushed me away and said coldly, "Don't overthink this. I just don't want to be disgusted by your face if there's a scar on it."

I nodded and left. Peace descended upon the villa again with the woman's departure—not that life had ever been hard for me at the Slater residence. The butler and maids didn't look down on me because of my identity.

I started researching recipes when Donovan was out. At the same time, I studied nutrition. I realized that certain foods were dangerous when paired, so I was careful when cooking.

When Donovan returned, I cooked him a meal and waited for him to dig in. Initially, he would snort and heartlessly tell the butler, "Throw all of this away. I won't eat trash."

I didn't give up. I would prepare a feast and wait for him to return every night. One night, he finally sat at the dining table and deigned to try my cooking, his face devoid of emotion.

My eyes were bright as I asked, "How does it taste?"

"It can't compare to Mrs. Walden's cooking," he said. Still, he dug in and ate heartily.

Donovan gradually grew used to my cooking, and I noticed he was no longer as rough with me when we were in bed. I thought life would continue to be this peaceful until our contract ended and I left, but things changed a mere six months later.

I came out of the bathroom after a post-coital shower and dried my body with a towel. Donovan leaned against the bed head while scrolling on his phone. He said nonchalantly, "I'm getting married."