Mia's POV
I flinched, stepping back instinctively as his cold, piercing eyes bore into mine.
The weight of his gaze pinned me to the spot, and my heart raced erratically.
I tried to look away, my eyes darting to the floor, but the tension in the room was suffocating.
I felt a wave of panic rise within me, and for a fleeting moment, I wished I could disappear—or at least melt into the floor.
Why did I enter his room? Why didn't I just admire the trophies from afar?
My knees wobbled as I anticipated an outburst, but he said nothing.
Instead, his silence felt more dangerous than anything else he could've done.
"Philip!" His voice, cold and commanding, shattered the silence, sending a shiver down my spine.
I blinked, confused. Why is he calling Philip? Is it to clean up the mess I made?
Philip entered the room almost immediately, his expression neutral, though his eyes betrayed a hint of pity as they flicked toward me.
"Yes, Lord Bryan," Philip replied, bowing slightly.
Bryan stood still, his piercing gaze never leaving me, the tension in the room growing heavier.
For a moment, I wondered if he had forgotten he'd called someone. The silence stretched on, leaving me to question his sanity.
"Go get me those broken bottles from the storeroom and four pieces of cane," Bryan ordered, his voice as icy as ever.
Philip froze for a split second before nodding. "On it, Lord."
Broken bottles? Canes? What for? My chest tightened with dread, and my heart pounded so loudly I feared it might give out.
Within minutes, Philip returned, carrying a tray filled with broken glass shards and long, flexible canes.
"Here they are, Lord Bryan," Philip announced, setting the items down carefully.
"Make a carpet with the broken bottles, starting from where she's standing and leading to the door," Bryan commanded, his tone void of any emotion.
Philip hesitated briefly but quickly complied.
I watched in horror as he began pouring the shards of glass onto the floor in a straight line.
The jagged edges gleamed menacingly under the light, each piece a threat to my flesh.
"I'm done, Lord. What should I do with the canes?" Philip asked, his voice tinged with unease.
Bryan ignored him for a moment, then turned his attention back to me.
"Step on them and exit my room. Now."
I stared at him, my mind reeling. He's joking. He has to be joking.
There's no way he expects me to walk on broken glass.
"I… I can't," I stammered, my voice trembling. "You don't have any human sympathy? I'll cut myself!"
His lips curled into a smirk. "Don't make me repeat myself."
My knees buckled at his words. The venom in his tone left no room for argument.
"Philip," he continued, "ensures she receives twelve strokes of the cane as she walks across. If she steps off the glass, double it to twenty-four."
His words were a death sentence. My legs gave out, and I collapsed to the floor.
The fear was too much to bear, and I realized, to my utter humiliation, that I had wet myself.
"You… you peed in my room?" Bryan roared, his face twisting in disgust. "Unbelievable!"
Before I could apologize or explain, he crossed the room in a flash, grabbing my arm roughly.
His grip was like iron, and his fingers dug painfully into my skin.
"Does this place look like your filthy house?" he spat. "How dare you defile my space like this?"
Tears streamed down my face as I whimpered, "I'm sorry… Please, you're hurting me…"
Without warning, he spun me around and shoved me toward the broken glass.
I lost my footing and fell onto the shards, a piercing scream tearing from my throat as the glass bit into my skin.
The pain was excruciating. I could feel the shards tearing into my flesh, the sharp edges cutting deep.
Blood oozed from my wounds, staining the floor beneath me.
"This is just the beginning," Bryan said, his voice cold and detached. "Next time you disobey me, you'll beg for death."
I couldn't stop the sobs that racked my body. The pain was unbearable, and the humiliation only made it worse.
"Philip, clean this mess up. Take her to her room, and make sure no one tends to her wounds. She needs to learn her place," Bryan ordered before storming out of the room.
"Yes, Lord Bryan," Philip replied, though his voice wavered slightly.
Philip approached me cautiously, his expression conflicted. "I'm sorry," he murmured as he carefully lifted me in his arms.
The movement sent fresh waves of pain through my body, and I cried out, clutching at his shirt.
"It hurts… It hurts so much…"
Philip carried me to my room and gently laid me facedown on the bed.
I could feel shards of glass still embedded in my skin, each one a source of searing pain.
"Please… Don't leave me like this," I begged, my voice barely above a whisper.
Philip hesitated, his eyes filled with pity, but he shook his head. "There's nothing I can do. I'm sorry."
He freed his hand from my grasp and left the room quickly, leaving me alone with my pain.
Mrs. Johnson Chapman's POV
Our car came to a stop in front of the massive mansion, its towering structure a testament to wealth and power.
I stepped out, smoothing my dress as I glanced up at the grand facade.
"Mom, are you saying this mansion belongs to your son, Bryan?" Fiona asked, her voice filled with awe.
"Yes, it does," I replied confidently. "My private investigator wouldn't have given me the wrong address."
Fiona giggled excitedly, her eyes sparkling with admiration.
I pressed the bell at the gate, and two large men appeared moments later.
"How can we help you?" one of them asked, his tone polite but firm.
"Hey, Sammy, that's Lord Bryan's mother," the other guard said, recognizing me.
Sammy's eyes widened, and he bowed slightly. "My apologies, ma'am. Please, come in."
We followed the guard inside, stepping into a lavishly decorated interior. Every detail screamed opulence, from the golden chandeliers to the plush carpets underfoot.
"Wow, Mom," Fiona whispered, her voice filled with wonder. "I can't believe Bryan is this rich!"
I chuckled. "Your husband-to-be is wealthier than you can imagine, darling. You'll be swimming in money."
Fiona giggled, a dreamy smile spreading across her face.
The guard led us to a room where loud music blared from behind closed doors.
"He's inside, practicing for his performance tonight," the guard explained before stepping away.
The music stopped abruptly, and Bryan stepped out of the room, towel in hand. His eyes narrowed as he noticed us.
"Hi, son," I greeted warmly.
"Hello, Bryan," Fiona chimed in, rushing toward him with open arms.
Bryan sidestepped her, his expression darkening. "How did you find my house, Mom?" he demanded.