Chapter 6: I own you, Peach

"We're here," Zayne announced as he pulled the car to a stop.

Tessa scoffed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not going in." She crossed her arms over her chest in defiance.

Zayne let out a small sigh before turning to her with that boyish look—his voice dropping into something soft, almost pleading. "Please—"

Tessa quickly averted her gaze, refusing to fall for it. He was doing that adorable face again, shit- the ones that babies do when they want something from their mother.

"Stop that, you're way too old for that" she scoffed.

"Then step out of the car!" He groaned racking his jet black hair.

But then, as she glanced out the window, she finally took in the mansion before her. The towering structure loomed in the dim lighting, its dark, elegant exterior exuding power and wealth. The sheer size of it sent a shiver down her spine, an unexplainable tension settling in her stomach.

Before she could process it further, the car door swung open, revealing two towering men. They were massive—easily ten times her size—and identical, like something out of a nightmare.

"Ma’am, we would like you to step out," one of them said, his voice deep and laced with something that felt like a threat.

Tessa swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Slowly, she stepped out of the car, her entire body trembling under the weight of their stares.

Behind her, Zayne smirked. "Told you you'd get down."

She spun to face him, her eyes blazing. "You son of a—"

"Bye," he cut her off with a casual wave before slamming the car door shut and driving off.

The security guards stationed at the massive gate pulled it open, and she hesitated before stepping inside. The two men followed closely behind, watching her every move like hawks.

She couldn’t even take in the grand architectural design of the mansion. Her vision blurred with unshed tears, her mind clouded with a single, overwhelming emotion—fear.

Tessa had heard the stories about Vernon Carter. None of them were good.

He was a man of power, a man of influence. Someone who could do anything he wanted, whenever he wanted.

And when Vernon Carter wanted something, he got it.

The one thing people never did was disobey him.

And yet, she had done just that.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, sweat beading on her forehead.

What was he going to do to her?

Kill her?

Make her his servant?

Or—worse—take her to his bed?

The mere thought sent a violent shiver down her spine.

How did she get here?

The question echoed in her mind, but there was no answer.

She was utterly clueless about what Tamlin had done. About the fact that he had sold her—like a cheap commodity, like she meant nothing.

Her throat tightened, and her voice came out barely above a whisper. “What does he want from me?”

But the men flanking her didn’t respond. They acted as if she hadn’t spoken at all.

They moved through the grand yet eerily silent house, and for a fleeting moment, Tessa felt a sliver of relief when they stepped into an empty living room.

Maybe he’s asleep, she thought desperately, clinging to any hope.

But hope was short-lived.

They led her down a hall, stopping in front of a door. Without a word, they swung it open and shoved her inside.

She barely managed to stay on her feet, stumbling forward as the door slammed shut behind her.

Heart pounding, she spun around, grabbing the knob. She twisted. Pulled. Pushed. Even slammed her shoulder against it.

Nothing.

The door stood firm, mocking her, sealing her fate.

A broken sigh left her lips as she backed away, her strength draining. She turned to the bed and let herself crumple onto it, exhaustion weighing heavy on her limbs.

As her eyes fluttered shut, the last thing she felt was the sting of betrayal.

Then, darkness took over.

___

[Carter Mansion]

Zayne honked, and the towering iron gates of Le Manoir de Carter creaked open, revealing a masterpiece of architectural brilliance.

The mansion stood tall, a breathtaking blend of modern sophistication and timeless elegance. Its grand facade, adorned with towering marble pillars and intricate gold accents, gleamed under the moonlight, exuding an aura of untouchable wealth.

Floor-to-ceiling windows reflected the night sky, while the cascading waterfall at the entrance added a touch of serene opulence.

The driveway, lined with perfectly manicured hedges and vintage lanterns, led to the massive double doors—crafted from mahogany and embellished with the Carter crest. Every inch of the estate screamed power, dominance, and untamed luxury.

Zayne stepped in, his usual bright demeanor dimmed. He pushed the heavy oak door open, and almost immediately, a familiar figure approached him with a warm smile—the family butler, Christopher.

"Young master!" Christopher called, embracing him briefly.

Zayne returned the hug, though his mind was elsewhere. "Is Father home?" he asked, pulling away.

"Yes, he's in his room," Christopher replied, his sharp gaze scanning Zayne's face. "Is something wrong?"

Zayne forced a small smile. "Nothing. Father asked to see me—I'm just a little late. I hope he isn't upset."

Christopher chuckled lightly. "He can't be that upset. Go on, he's waiting."

Zayne nodded, inhaling deeply before shoving his hands into his pockets and heading up the grand staircase. The long corridor stretched before him, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors.

When he finally reached his father’s door, his fingers trembled as they gripped the knob. Slowly, he twisted it open.

Inside, Mr. Carter sat on a sleek leather couch, his glasses perched elegantly on his nose. A golden wristwatch gleamed on his wrist as he turned a page of the newspaper with quiet precision.

Zayne hesitated. The silence was suffocating.

"Fath—"

"Don't even start, Zayne." His father's sharp voice cut through the air like a blade. Without looking up, he tossed the newspaper aside.

"I'm sorry," Zayne muttered, his head lowering slightly.

"Sorry?" Mr. Carter scoffed. "I waited for four hours. When did I send that text? 5 PM. What time is it now?"

Zayne swallowed. "9 PM."

"I was busy—"

Mr. Carter’s glare silenced him. "Your incompetence is alarming. If I were to die today, is this how you'd run my business?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "It would probably plummet to the ground."

Zayne clenched his fists, but before he could respond, his father continued.

"Look at your brother. I didn't need to hand him a company—he built his own empire. Founded his own corporation. He makes billions monthly. And you? You still depend on your father's money."

The words stung, but Zayne remained silent, his jaw tightening, his fists clenched.

But then something snapped in Zayne- tears streamed down his face as he looked at his father—pain evident in his eyes.

"I'm not Vernon!" Zayne's yelled.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not Vernon!" Zayne Yelled again.

Pain exploded across his cheek as his head snapped to the side, black hair whipping through the air. His skin burned where his fingers had struck, the sting digging deep into his bone.

He had slapped him.

"I am not him, and I never will be him?, I've don't everything- everything to make you proud of me. But no, you always put Vernon first. Why did you give birth to me if you're just gonna treat me like trash, like I'm worthless?" Zayne's voice cracked from the pain, his heart crumbled.

"Maybe Vernon should just inherit it all, that's what you want you idiot!" Carter growled.

Zayne could heart anymore, he turned back and was about to walk out when his father's voice stopped him.

"Tomorrow, you'll start working in Vernon's company, not as my son, but as a lowly employee, your bank card, cars and all you assets will be revoked and you won't get them back until you've proven that you can be of importance to the company and family" he said with a tone of finality.

Zayne didn't respond, he just walked away shutting the door loudly.

He got downstairs and met Christopher who just stared at him with sadness evident in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He said.

Zayne just removed his bank card and car keys, throwing them on the table before walking out.

"Poor kid" Christopher said staring at Zayne's retreating back.

___

Tessa's body jerked from the contact of the cold water on her skin. Her eyes flew open and she saw that she was in the bathroom and also surrounded by women.

How did she get here?

They were all scrubbing her body, cleaning her up.

She retracted herself from their grip and the head maid frowned. She slapped Tessa hard.

"Listen Slut. We're just doing our jobs so don't act like you're someone special or important. Just stay still." She snarled signalling the other maids to continue.

Tessa didn't bother them, she just let them do their thing. The scrubbed and shaved her.

After which they dried her body and hair. They wore her some red lingerie and applied some light make-up.

The men from earlier came in. "Aren't you done yet?" One asked.

"Yes we're done, you can take her to boss!" The head maid said as she finished touching up Tessa hair.

Believe me when I say, Tessa was effortlessly beautiful.

Her long blond hair was all curled- falling in gentle waves over her shoulders.

The lingerie was the definition of seductive, they were rips in places they shouldn't have, her body was barely covered.

The men couldn't take their eyes off her, she could see the lustful intent in their eyes.

The maid gave her to them and they walked her to Vernon's room, both avoiding staring at her body.

She was now the bosses property, she can't be touch unless they want to loose their lives.

The got to the room and knocked on the door.

"Come in," Vernon's voice came clear from the other side.

They opened the door and she sighed before walking in.

This was really happening?

She was gonna have sex with one of the most dangerous men in the country.

"Come here" Vernon demanded his voice low and dangerous.

His eyes filled with a new emotion- lust. Pure unfiltered Lust.

With slow steps she walked to the bed.

"Rip that shit off and get on the bed."

She nodded in defiance, covering herself with her hands- she could barely cover anything.

He scoffed, and walked to her, pulling her to the bed and climbed on her.

"Get off me!" Tessa gasped, struggling beneath Vernon's broad frame.

His dark eyes gleamed with something unreadable—a hunger, a craving.

When he didn’t move, panic surged through her, and she screamed.

His hand shot out, wrapping around her throat, his grip unyielding.

A breathless gasp tore from her lips.

"You can't run from me, Peach." His voice was silk and steel, lethal in its promise. "I own you."