Elizabeth’s Point of View: "Excuse me, please, I got an offer yesterday, and I’m here for my documentation," I said to the security guard at the first-floor reception. She barely acknowledged me, sluggishly raising her head from the table before giving me a slow, condescending once-over. Then, without a word, she pointed at the elevator. "Seventh floor, HR," she finally said. I nodded quickly and rushed to the elevator, silently cursing her sluggishness. She had just wasted three solid minutes of my time, and by the time I reached the elevator, it was exactly 9 AM. The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a busy office. Desks lined both sides of the space, with a walkway in the middle leading to a large glass-covered office. I approached the first desk I saw and addressed the woman sitting behind it. "Good morning, I’m here for my documentation." The woman, dressed in a sharp gray suit with loud makeup, barely spared me a glance. Instead, she glanced at her wrist, which b
"Where are you?!" His deep voice cut through, sharp and demanding. Before I could even form a response, my mind raced, scrambling for words. Why was I so hesitant to tell him where I was? It wasn’t as though I was doing anything illegal. "I thought you cared about your sister," Richard spat, his voice laced with venom. "But clearly, you'd rather sell yourself than take responsibility for your own blood." His words stung, not because they were true, but because of the sheer audacity. I inhaled deeply, forcing back the frustration clawing at my throat. I hated that I had to explain myself to this narrow-minded jerk. "I am at work," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended, trying—failing—to mask my irritation. "And I am not the kind of woman you think I am. I am an honest worker, who works sincerely to make ends meet." Why was I even explaining myself? He let out a low, mocking chuckle. "Honest worker," he echoed with sarcasm, making it sound like the most ridiculous thing he
"Follow me," Gloria said, leading me into an office. The room was spacious and well-conditioned, with four neatly arranged desks. Inside, a man and a woman sat talking, their conversation stopping the moment we entered as both turned their attention to me. "This is Elizabane," Gloria announced with a dramatic groan, rolling her eyes. "Sabrina said to let her stay here until her move." I shot her a glare and corrected her. "Elizabeth." "That's what I said. Elizabane." She repeated, her smirk widening. The woman at the desk chuckled, and I bit my lower lip, forcing down my frustration. Gloria was lucky this was my first day. I wasn’t the quiet girl she used to bully anymore. If this had been any other day, I would have wiped that smirk off her face. "This will be your desk." She pointed to the table near the door. Without waiting for more of her nonsense, I pulled out the chair and sat down. "Welcome, Elizabeth. I'm James," the man beside me said, offering his hand. I wa
I stood frozen in the middle of the restaurant as gasps and murmurs filled the room. My hands began to tremble as I tore my gaze away from James, scanning the space—everyone was staring. A lump formed in my throat, and tears threatened to spill. Reflexively, I dropped my food, wrapping my arms around myself. I cursed my double-D half-cup bra because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t cover everything. The weight of the judgmental stares pressed down on me, making my skin burn with humiliation. I turned to James, silently pleading for his help. His jacket. He hesitated, and I could see him struggling with what to do. "Please..." I was about to ask when a deep, authoritative voice broke through the murmurs. "Everyone close your eyes. Whoever looks at Ms. James a second longer will be fired and arrested." The room stilled. Every head turned toward the source of the command. By the corner stood Richard, his piercing gaze sweeping across the restaurant. Helpless, I looked a
"Please, Ms. James, I’m sure Gloria didn’t intend to cause you such harm," Sabrina said, her voice soft, pleading. My eyes flicked between the two of them, a tangle of confusion knotting in my stomach. What was I supposed to say? I had no idea Richard had even threatened Gloria in the first place. He had been too busy scolding me to ask about the situation. Does Richard even listen? From the few moments I’d spent with him, I noticed he was always so lost in his own head, so quick to judge and act. "I..." I opened my mouth to speak, but Sabrina interrupted before I could get the words out. "Gloria is also offering to pay for the damages on your shirt," Sabrina said, her gaze fixing on me. She paused, giving me a moment to absorb the information before adding, "I’m not sure if it’s a designer piece, but we’re hoping two thousand dollars will cover the damages." Designer piece, I nearly laughed aloud. If only they knew it was a $10 uniform shirt. I struggled to keep my expressi
I swallowed hard, drawing in a slow, shaky breath as I stepped further into the house. The moment I reached the front door, a smooth, robotic voice greeted me. "Welcome. Step onto the welcome mat, please." I hesitated for a second before obeying. The instant my feet touched the mat, a soft, warm breeze rose from beneath me, brushing against my skin like an invisible scan. "Scan complete. You may enter." With a quiet hiss, the massive door swung open on its own, revealing a sleek, modern interior. Calling it a smart house would be an understatement—it felt alive. The walls pulsed with subtle blue light strips, reacting to my movement. Every step triggered a gentle hum in the air, like the house itself was watching me. "Proceed down the hall," the AI instructed. I followed the illuminated pathway, my footsteps barely making a sound against the polished black flooring. At the end of the hall, an elevator door slid open as if expecting me. I hesitated before stepping in, my he
"What!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening in shock. "You’re a stripper, aren’t you? Dance for me," Richard commanded. I shook my head, heat rising to my face. "I am not a stripper! I don’t even know how to dance—I couldn't dance to save my life." Richard didn’t listen. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, expecting me to perform like some showpiece for his entertainment. I stood frozen, my heart pounding, my cheeks burning with anger as I glared at him. The smug amusement on his face as he waited for me to obey only fueled my rage. I hated that smirk—I wanted to wipe it off his face so badly. Why did this feel more degrading than if he had simply asked for sex? "Hurry up, Laura," he said lazily. Laura? Who the hell was Laura? Did he forget my name so soon? "I told you I can’t dance," I said, ignoring the wrong name and trying to hold on to whatever pride I had left. Was this really what he expected me to do for the next two years? Richard rolled his eyes, acting as
I woke up to a pounding headache, my head spinning as I tried to adjust my eyes to the light. My vision blurred slightly before clearing, revealing the incredibly handsome man sitting beside me. His piercing black eyes locked onto mine, watching me closely. "Where am I?" My voice came out hoarse. "Who are you?" His eyes narrowed slightly, worry flickering across his features. For a moment, my mind felt foggy, blank spaces where my memories should have been. Then, as I sat up, glancing down at myself—the silky lingerie still clinging to my body, the soft cushions of the couch beneath me—it all came rushing back. Falling from the pole, Richard’s cruel joke. "Monster!" The word shot out of my mouth the moment everything clicked. "How do you even sleep at night knowing you threaten innocent people just to get what you want?" I snapped, sitting upright. He blinked, looking genuinely confused. "Is everything okay?" His voice was laced with amusement, as if I was the one acting cra
I followed Richard to what looked like an auditorium, then into an elevator that led to a VIP box overlooking the stage. As soon as we stepped out, I noticed three people seated with their backs to the elevator, their attention fixed on the stage. Richard moved forward, his hand slipping from my back as he took another step toward the chairs. "Mum!" His voice was sharp, directed at a silver-haired woman sitting in the first chair. She turned instantly, a warm smile flashing on her face. "Richard!" Her soft voice rang out as she rose gracefully and walked toward him. This is Richard’s mother? I stared at her, taking in her beauty. She looked young and elegant, and she carried herself with effortless grace. Her nude-colored dress complemented her flawless skin, and the diamond necklace around her neck screamed money. "What are you doing here, Mum?" Richard asked, his body tensing as she pulled him into a hug. "Did you really expect me to miss this?" she said. She had a bea
Elizabeth's point of view: We got down to the parking lot, where a pure white Cadillac Escalade limo sat waiting just in front of the elevator. As soon as we stepped out, the driver rushed forward, fumbling to open the door for Richard. But Richard stopped him, "The lady first." Richard instructed. And the driver nodded redirecting his efforts to me. I tried not to blush as I stepped inside, my breath hitching at the sheer luxury surrounding me. The interior was sleek, with plush leather seats, a TV screen, and crystal-clear wine glasses arranged neatly beside a fully stocked mini fridge. It was the kind of car that screamed wealth, the kind I had only ever seen in movies. I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable, but as beautiful as this dress was, it wasn’t exactly made for sitting. The fabric clung to me, suddenly feeling too tight, my knees pressed together in a way that made breathing a conscious effort. The leather squeaked as I adjusted, my frustration growing.
Elizabeth's point of view: "Fine!" Richard sighed. "I won't touch you without your permission... but if your eyes beg me to, I just might." His teasing tone sent an unwanted shiver down my spine. "Also, would you accompany me to the award dinner? It’s important, and I wouldn’t want to leave you alone in this house in case you decide to go snooping again,"Ah. There it was—the real reason he wanted me out tonight. "What do you say?" he asked. It wasn’t how I wanted him to ask but it was a win nonetheless. "Fine. I’ll go," I sighed, "'I'll pick something from the collection. Thank you." "Good. See you at seven," Richard said, and I nodded instinctively—forgetting, for a moment, that he couldn't see me. As I hung up, my lips curled into an involuntary smile. A small, fluttering sensation stirred in my stomach, but I quickly shook my head to rid myself of the ridiculous feeling. "He’s so infuriating", I thought, though I couldn't deny the thrill of having had the upper hand fo
Elizabeth's Point of View; The cupcake was worth it. Margaret had magic hands. Even though I had planned to take just one, I devoured an entire box of ten before I even realized it. "This is lovely! Thank you," I said, wiping the last crumb from my lips. Margaret smiled warmly, clearly pleased with herself. "Listen, my shift is over. Want to go dress shopping together?" she asked. I glanced down at my clothes. They were new—I had bought them with my first paycheck—and I thought they were pretty decent. "Is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?" I asked, frowning. Margaret chuckled. "For the award ceremony tonight. Richard said you two are going." I rolled my eyes. "I’m not going anywhere." Richard wasn’t the boss of me. Well… maybe technically he was, but that didn’t mean he could summon me to his events just by commanding it. Margaret gave me a knowing look, but I stood my ground. "Don't worry about any dress shopping, ma'am. I’m not going anywhere tonight," I
Elizabeth's point of view: Richard was insufferable. And Margret—what was taking her so long? I found myself glancing toward the kitchen, wondering what she was doing. With how long she was taking, she might as well have been baking a whole new batch of cupcakes. "I told you already, I’m not going to see any therapist. I don’t need one," I spat, my patience running thin. Richard smiled, unaffected. "You are," he stated firmly. I shook my head, seeing this as an opportunity to bring up Jake. "About yesterday..." I started, then hesitated. I remembered how angry Richard had been the day before, and it made me skeptical. "I... spoke to..." I stopped again, suddenly aware of the way he was watching me—focused, his full attention on me, smiling. It was unsettling. Then, as if sensing my discomfort, his expression shifted, growing serious. "What is it, Elizabeth? Talk to me." His deep voice was calm, soothing, and for some reason, it made my heart flutter slightly. "Your e
Richard's perspective: (point of view): "Martin, cancel all my appointments for the day. I don’t think I’ll be coming in," I said, feeling an unexpected pull to stay home. "Understood, sir. But if I may remind you, the award ceremony is today. You’ve been nominated for Philanthropist of the Year again," Martin informed me. "Would you like me to send a representative to accept it on your behalf?" I leaned back in my seat, exhaling. "I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know before the event." Another award. Another ceremony. I’d received so many over the years that I was starting to lose count. The whole thing felt exhausting—endless speeches, handshakes, and hollow congratulations. None of it truly mattered. But this time, something felt different. For the first time in years, I was actually considering going. That is, if I could convince Elizabeth to come with me. "Should I inform your family?" Martin asked. I sighed. My mother and Beatrice always made sure to attend on my
Elizabeth's point of view: "Richard!"My heart nearly jumped out of my chest. I thought he was at work. "Answer me, damn it!" he roared, eyes blazing with anger. He lifted his foot as if to step inside but stopped midair, hesitating like something invisible was holding him back. "I... I got lost trying to find my room," I stammered. His jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Get out," he ordered, his voice low at first. But before I could gather myself to move, his voice rose sharply. "I said get out, Elizabeth!" I flinched, scrambling past him into the hallway. "Don't ever come in here again," Richard muttered as I rushed by. I barely had time to catch my breath before realizing—I was lost again. My room could have been anywhere. Richard must have noticed because he pointed to a door at the corner of the hallway. "There," he said, his voice quieter now, almost drained. I nodded quickly and hurried toward it. But just as I reached my door, I glanced bac
Elizabeth's point of view: Inside the room was a nursery—an old, abandoned nursery with two baby cradles in the middle. The room was covered in dust, cobwebs stretched from corner to corner, making it clear no one had stepped foot in here for years. I took a step inside, and the moment I did, a sharp crack echoed through the air. I looked down to find shattered glass scattered across the floor, pieces of picture frames mixed with ripped-up notes, torn apart as if someone had wanted to erase them completely. If it wasn’t so old and dusty, the nursery would have been the most beautiful thing ever. It had promise once. Now, broken toys littered the floor—ripped bears missing their button eyes, cracked dolls with their stuffing spilling out, and pink star mobiles still hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly. But this place wasn’t just abandoned. It was ruined. Someone had deliberately trashed it. I found myself walking further, my curiosity pulling me in as I took everything in
I noticed Margaret’s expression shift instantly. Her once-warm demeanor hardened into something unreadable as she narrowed her eyes. "I don’t know," she said, her words clipped, almost defensive. "Neither does Richard. No one knows what happened to her." Her gaze locked onto mine, searching, as if trying to decipher my intentions. "I hope you’re not asking because you believe the rumors—that Richard had anything to do with her disappearance," she added, her tone sharp, her words almost like a warning. I shook my head immediately. "No… I was just wondering what happened to her," I stammered. Margaret studied me for a second longer before her face gradually softened. "Well, like I said, no one knows. She just woke up one day and disappeared," she said, turning back toward the television. And just like that, she shut the conversation down. "Ooh! My show is starting!" She cranked up the volume—so loud that any attempt to continue our discussion would have been pointless.