Aamira had seen wealth before—but never like this.
The moment she stepped into Rafaël Dev's mansion, she knew she'd been moved from one gilded hell to another. Marble floors, floor-to-ceiling glass walls, chandeliers that looked like they were stolen from the gods. But it didn't feel like home. It felt like a prison disguised as a palace.
There were no staff running around. Just silence.
She was escorted—not gently—to a room bigger than her entire house back home.
White walls. No windows. No phone. No mirrors.
Just a king-size bed draped in black silk and an ominous feeling that she wasn't alone.
She turned to look—and froze.
Rafaël stood by the doorway, coat off, shirt sleeves rolled to his forearms, veins running down to his large hands like rivers of danger.
"Do you know what you are now?" he asked, voice low, deep, with a touch of cruel amusement.
She didn't answer. Her throat refused to move.
"I bought you," he continued, walking toward her slowly. "Which means your freedom is mine. Your body is mine. Everything you are… belongs to me now."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her legs instinctively backed her into the wall.
He stopped inches away, looking down at her like she was both a puzzle and a plaything.
"You're not allowed to leave this room unless I say so. Not allowed to speak unless I let you. And not allowed to wear anything…"
He reached out and tugged at her dupatta.
"…unless I choose it."
Her heart pounded so loud, she was sure he could hear it.
"And if you disobey…"
He leaned closer, his breath brushing her neck.
"You'll learn just how cold pleasure can feel."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
He looked at her one last time—then turned and walked away, the door locking behind him with a click that echoed like a gunshot.
She sank to the floor, breathing in ragged sobs.
This wasn't a fairy tale. This was a storm.
And she was locked inside it.
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End of Chapter 2