After that day, the South Americans disappeared, and even Hudson was nowhere to be seen. It seemed Carlo’s troubles were temporarily resolved, bringing a newfound lightness to his spirit. He settled down on the island with Lyla, savoring a fleeting peace.Island life was idyllic, unhurried, and lovely. Though the weather was hot and humid, the scenery was breathtaking. The locals were warm-hearted, the children full of life—some even cheekily called Carlo "Dad" and Lyla "Mom" when they grew especially playful.Lyla and Carlo would often stroll through the island’s market together, selecting fresh ingredients, then giving the staff the day off to prepare their meals themselves. Carlo, who’d inherited his mother’s talent for art, often sketched portraits of Lyla, capturing her expressions and beauty with delicate precision. Sometimes, he’d take her to hidden spots on the island, sharing stories from his childhood or taking her to explore his secret haunts. Their days passed like those of
The cruise back moved swiftly, reaching the shore in just five days. Afterward, Lyla and Carlo took a flight to the nearest city to Westheaven.With the new semester just around the corner, Lyla's break was coming to an end, but she hadn’t come back for classes. She planned to hand in her resignation. Although the school had emailed her after her case was discharged, inviting her to stay on, Lyla couldn’t let go of the bitterness. The school’s cold reaction and swift suspension notice during the investigation had left her heartbroken. They had seemed eager to distance themselves, not even offering her legal assistance. She no longer felt she belonged there and intended to spend some time with her mother before deciding her next steps.Westheaven College was over a three-hour drive from the airport. Carlo, wanting to spend some time alone with Lyla, dismissed all the bodyguards and drove her to the school himself.As the car pulled up by the campus gate, Carlo insisted on going in with
When Carlo opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was an intense white light, stark and endless, as though he were suspended in a pure void—a sensation so surreal he almost thought he’d reached heaven. But the sharp, searing pain in his body quickly pulled him back to reality. His vision gradually focused, and he noticed his right leg bound tightly in plaster, suspended in mid-air, while a thick bandage wrapped around his head sent waves of heat and pressure. Any slight movement caused his head to throb as if it would split open.Nearby, he could hear Valentina’s soft sobs, as if she had been crying for hours. Her voice was weak, yet tinged with relentless sorrow. When she saw Carlo was awake, her quiet sobbing turned into relieved, almost frantic weeping as she clasped his hand, tears streaming down her face. “Son, you’re finally awake. I’m so sorry. I never thought things would turn out like this... I almost—almost lost you.”The meaning of her words eluded him, but Carlo gripped
"Hello, son." Leonardo's voice was stern over the phone, a tone that carried more authority than concern. "Your mother said you needed to speak with me. But I think your top priority now should be recovering. Wouldn’t you agree?"Carlo felt a faint warmth at his father’s rare display of concern, something that softened him, if only briefly. His voice trembled slightly as he replied, "Father, I'm alright now, I—"Leonardo quickly interrupted. "I disagree. You must understand just how dangerous that little street race of yours was. You may have survived this time, but luck won’t always be on your side. I hope you take this as a lesson if—""Father!" Carlo’s voice rose, cutting him off, frustration leaking through. "You know I didn’t call to discuss that. Lyla—Lyla was taken. Blake has her." His chest tightened in agony, forcing him to suppress the urge to cough, desperate not to miss a single word of his father’s response.There was a pause. Leonardo said nothing about who Lyla was but
"Bend over."The man's voice echoed behind her, magnetic and irresistible.Lyla Sinclair trembled, feeling the coarse texture of the small leather whip grazing across her hips, again and again, each stroke both a threat and a tease.She instinctively leaned forward, her hands pressed against the couch. Her underwear and skirt had somehow been removed, leaving her in a shameful, exposed position.The man’s broad hand caressed her buttocks, gently patting her as if calming a prized mare, a mix of punishment and reward.In this intoxicating caress, Lyla gradually abandoned her shame. Summoning her courage, she leaned back and, with a trembling voice, said, “Let me see you.”The next second, the whip landed hard on her skin, making her gasp in pain.“Watch your tone,” the man said coolly, “What should you call me?”The pain sharpened her mind. Lyla knew the rules of this game well—she should address him as Master. But her innate pride and shame kept her from uttering the word.The whip lin
Three years ago, at the age of 23, Lyla was accepted into Stonemont University’s psychology department due to her exceptional academic achievements. Skipping the master’s program, she became the youngest fully-funded PhD student, studying under an advisor renowned in academic circles. Her future looked promising, yet she was anxious—her advisor's primary research focus was on BD/SM psychology.Growing up in a traditional Christian family, Lyla had always received a conservative education about sex. She had never encountered anything related to BD/SM, and she found it difficult to understand.She once asked her advisor why, during the interview, he chose her despite knowing that her background didn’t quite align with his research.Her advisor gazed into her pale blue eyes, as clear as a river, and said sincerely, "You’re a girl with a strong curiosity, and you’re brave and persistent in your pursuit of answers. You’re a natural researcher—that’s why I chose you."Becoming a research sc
Lyla’s breath nearly stopped from the shock. She instinctively glanced around her, but the classroom was empty, the doors closed. There was no way anyone could be spying on her screen.She thought for a moment, then exited Shadow Master’s profile and clicked into her own. At the top of the page, she noticed a section showing recent visitors from the last half hour. But when she registered last night, she hadn’t seen this feature.Shadow Master: "Are you curious about the recent visitors feature? Don’t be surprised—I just added it. The code was written in a rush, not perfect, but it was more than enough to catch a mischievous little bug like you."Lyla smirked with mild disdain.Nicola Selene: Are you a hacker?Shadow Master: A hacker? I built this site myself—no hacker in the world could break into it.For a brief moment, countless thoughts raced through Lyla’s mind. Reflecting on today’s events on the forum, a bold idea suddenly formed.Nicola Selene: You wouldn’t happen to be the fo
As Lyla stood at the entrance of the city’s most luxurious hotel, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had completely lost her mind.Perhaps it was Shadow Master’s taunting words --“better drop out while you can” -- that had pushed her over the edge. Without hesitation, she agreed to his s/panking request. No one had the right to question her dedication to her work and studies. For her, that was an insult. Moreover, she couldn’t deny her curiosity. What kind of psychological experience would this s/panking game bring her? She was eager to find out.The time and place had been set by Shadow Master. When Lyla found out it was this hotel, she was taken aback. This place was renowned for its luxury, and she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man Shadow Master was to afford such an extravagant venue.As she stepped into the hotel lobby, her phone buzzed with a message from Jessica: “You’re meeting Shadow Master?! I’ve tried to interview him so many times and never got a chance! You’re a