I stepped into the living room and froze.
He was lying there—motionless —in a pool of his own blood. I just stood there, staring, waiting for him to shift or groan or… anything. But he didn’t. He just lay there. Still. My breath caught. My knees buckled. I could feel my heartbeat—wild, erratic—thundering in my ears.
No… no, this can’t be real.”
“My lips parted, but no sound came.”
“What’s happening?
“Am I dreaming… or trapped in a nightmare?”
“Duke, bring her forward,”
a deep, commanding voice echoed through the room.
“I want to see the face of that bastard Adonis’s little girl… I bet she’s a pretty one. Her mother was cute too. Now I’ve got myself a new plaything.”
Duke dragged Daphne forward. She stumbled, her eyes darting around the room, finally landing on a figure lounging on their living room couch. A tall man, cloaked in black, exhaled a cloud of smoke from a lit blunt.
Who are these people? What’s happening?
Confusion swirled in her eyes, her mind struggling to make sense of it all.
“I said, bring her forward, Duke,”
the stranger repeated, his voice as cold as steel.
Duke struck her on the shoulder, and she fell hard to her knees. Pain surged through her like an electric current, making her wince.
“What did you do to my dad? Who are you people?!”
Daphne screamed, her breath catching in her throat as she locked eyes with him—those piercing grey eyes, cold and stormy like a thundercloud just before it breaks. They held no warmth, only a calculating stillness that sent a chill racing down her spine. It was as if they could see through her, peel back every layer and expose the fear pulsing beneath her skin.
His expression was unreadable. His gaze—deadly calm—sent shivers down her spine. She couldn’t grasp what was going on. Everything felt unreal, like a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
Then he stood.
His presence was overwhelming—calm, yet commanding. His aura filled the room, swallowing the air around her.
Daphne slowly lifted her head, and their eyes met.
He looked down at her with a smirk curling on his lips and spoke only three words:
“Hey, little debtor.”
Then he turned and walked away, his steps slow, deliberate—each one echoing through the hollow silence he left behind.
Her body trembled, not from fear, but from the storm building inside her. The weight of her father’s lifeless body still hung in the air. The scent of blood lingered—sharp, unforgettable.
She stared at the place where he’d stood just moments before, his presence still clinging to the room like smoke. His calm, composed departure was more brutal than any blade.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides.
At first, it was disbelief. Then grief.
Then something colder.
Something sharper.
It crawled up her spine and settled behind her eyes.
She blinked—and all that remained was a single, searing thought:
“One day, you’ll pay for this.”
⸻
Duke yanked her to her feet and dragged her outside, where a black car idled by the gate. Daphne struggled, hitting and kicking, but her small hands were no match for his brute strength. Once inside, a white cloth was pressed to her face. Everything went dark.
⸻
Daphne woke up in pain.
“My head… Dad? Where am I?”
Suddenly, everything came crashing down like a tidal wave.
She gasped.
“No. No. No! What’s happening?! Where are they taking me?”
She screamed until her throat burned.
But no one answered.
“Hello everyone, this is your pilot speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts. We’ll be descending in three minutes.”
Then the announcement:
“Welcome to Camden. Thank you for flying with Manifest Airlines. We hope you had a pleasant flight.”
Camden?! No. This can’t be real.
She’d been in Chicago…
Now she was in London?
“Get out,” Duke said gruffly, grabbing her arm and pulling her from the plane.
Lord Archie followed with deliberate, unhurried steps, his face unreadable.
⸻
A few hours ago, laughter echoed through the sunlit halls of Rosehill High. Daphne stood in front of her locker, slipping her graduation robe over one shoulder as she chatted with her best friend. Her cheeks were flushed with joy, her eyes sparkling with a kind of hope that only came once in a lifetime.
Graduation was just days away.
She couldn’t wait to tell her father about every detail—the rehearsal, the silly speeches, the dress she picked out. Her heart practically danced at the thought of seeing the proud look on his face when she’d walk across that stage.
“Daddy would be front row,” she thought, a soft smile playing on her lips. He’d probably bring flowers. The embarrassing kind with glitter and balloons tied to the bouquet.
And then—oh, then she’d ask him for the car. She’d been working up to this moment for weeks, rehearsing the conversation in her head. “Just a small one,” she’d say, “Nothing fancy—just something to take me to college.” She was already picturing herself behind the wheel, license in hand, the wind in her hair as she drove herself to class.
It was the happiest she’d felt in a long time.
Now…
The car rattled slightly as it turned down an unfamiliar road, the windows tinted, the air inside cold and sterile.
Daphne sat curled against the door, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her graduation joy a distant memory buried beneath fear and confusion. Her once-lively eyes stared blankly at the grey horizon through the window, watching trees blur past like ghosts.
She didn’t know where they were taking her.
Her heart pounded in her chest, but she forced herself to remain calm, to think. Someone will notice, she told herself. Someone has to notice I’m gone.
Maybe one of her classmates would speak up. Maybe her literature teacher, Miss Arlen—she always paid attention. Or maybe the front office would call home when she didn’t show up for her last rehearsal.
But home…
Her throat tightened.
They didn’t know yet that her father—her anchor, her only family—was already gone. Murdered. His blood cooling in the very house she thought she’d return to with stories of her future.
Daphne stared out the window, her thoughts twisting into a knot of dread.
She sighed. Again. The sound barely filled the car, but it was the only thing she could do—exhale, and try to hold herself together.
But nothing felt fixable anymore.
The robe she’d worn with pride earlier now felt like a cruel joke. The car she dreamed of… the college plans… her father’s smile…
All gone.
And in its place—silence, fear, and the haunting question no one had answered yet:
Why me?.
When the car stopped, she looked up and her breath caught in her throat. A mansion—massive and magnificent—stood before her, grand enough to be a palace. Under different circumstances, she might have admired its beauty.
But now? It only raised more questions… and dread.
⸻
“Welcome, my Lord,”
the servants chorused as Lord Archie entered. Duke dragged Daphne behind him.
From a distance, a Lady watched—still as a statue carved from shadow. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, followed the newcomer with unsettling precision. There was no curiosity in her gaze, only the simmering embers of irritation. Her presence alone made the air feel colder, heavier.
She turned slowly to a nearby maid, her voice smooth as silk but laced with steel.
“Who is the new girl?”
The maid jumped, hands trembling as she clutched her apron. “I-I’m not sure, my lady…”
A beat passed—too long.
“I asked you a question,” the woman repeated, her tone deceptively calm before turning to fire. “Who is the girl?”
She seized the maid’s arm with an iron grip, her fingers biting into flesh like talons. The maid whimpered, her fear filling the silence.
“P-please, I’m not sure, I heard some maids talking earlier, they said Lord Archie brought her in to settle a debt… something about her father—”
The grip loosened.
With a scoff, the woman released her and stepped back, her eyes narrowing into slits of quiet fury. She muttered something inaudible under her breath and without another glance, she slipped away, vanishing down the corridor like smoke fleeing from firelight.
The maid stood frozen, clutching her arm, too afraid to even cry.
From the shadows, unseen, a cold whisper stirred the air:
“She’ll ruin everything.”