Tainted Love

Sophia's eyes fluttered open, her mind foggy and her body aching. She was lying on a cold, hard floor, her head throbbing with every beat of her heart. As she struggled to sit up, a wave of nausea washed over her, forcing her to pause.

Where was she? How did she get here?

Slowly, memories began to surface-her family's debts, the men who came to collect, the desperation in her grandfather's eyes. Sophia's heart sank as she realized she was now a captive of the Russo family, notorious for their ruthlessness and power.

---

Five Years Earlier

In the pouring rain, Mr. and Mrs. Ronan hurried out of church after the evening service to pick up their daughter, Sophia, from the salon. They had dropped her off earlier to get her hair done before heading to church. Suddenly, a truck came out of nowhere, slamming into their car and causing it to somersault multiple times.

With the help of passersby, they were rushed to the emergency ward. The hospital managed to contact their only living relative-Sophia's grandfather, who was already in his late seventies. Upon arriving at the hospital, he was informed that his son and daughter-in-law were both in comas and required emergency surgery, which would cost more money than he could possibly afford.

Desperate, Grandpa Ronan left immediately to pick up his granddaughter. At the salon, Sophia bombarded him with questions about her parents, but he had no answers. That night, after a quiet dinner, he tucked her into bed, heavy-hearted and unsure of the future.

The next morning, determined to save his son and daughter-in-law, he set out to the only place he could think of-his old place of work. Swallowing his pride, he went to beg his former boss, Bruno Russo, a man known for his coldness.

By some stroke of luck-or perhaps something darker-Bruno agreed to lend him the money. The old man rushed to the hospital to settle the bills, but despite the doctors' efforts, the couple died a few days later.

***

Five Years Later

Sophia had grown into a young woman, finishing college on a scholarship. She returned home to care for her aging grandfather. When Grandpa Ronan saw her again, he fell to his knees and wept. Who would have thought this beautiful, educated young woman would emerge from so much tragedy?

"My darling Sophia," he said tearfully, "you can't stay here with me. You must leave-go far away and live your life."

Sophia was shocked. But her grandfather explained everything-the unpaid debt to the Russo family and the increasing threats they had received.

Despite his pleading, Sophia refused to leave. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll protect you," she vowed.

Two weeks later, their small home was invaded. A gang of men burst in, grabbing Grandpa Ronan with brutal force. Sophia tried to intervene, but her strength was nothing against the giant-sized men. They dragged him outside toward a waiting car.

Sophia ran after them, dropping to her knees before a man in all black-Bruno Russo himself.

"Please," she sobbed. "Let him go."

Bruno regarded her with mild curiosity. "And who are you?"

"She's his granddaughter," one of the men answered.

Bruno smirked. "And what do you have to offer in exchange for the old man?"

Without hesitation, Sophia cried out, "Myself! I'll work for you-I'll be your servant. Just let him go!"

Bruno's interest deepened. "Very well. But on one condition," she added quickly, "you must make sure he's safe and well taken care of."

"Deal," Bruno said with a crooked grin.

Grandpa Ronan protested, but his injuries from earlier left him weak and helpless. After a tearful goodbye, Sophia was taken away. Bruno couldn't stop glancing at her as they drove back to the mansion.

Upon arrival, Sophia was thrown into a cold, underground room. Alone and exhausted, she cried herself to sleep on the hard floor.

***

A creaking door startled her awake. A man stood over her, his voice cold and emotionless.

"Time to get up, young lady. The boss wants to see you."

Sophia's instincts screamed to run-but she knew better. The Russos didn't tolerate defiance.

She stood slowly, meeting his gaze. "Let's go," she said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

They walked through dimly lit corridors past ornate doors, lavish artwork, and plush furniture-each a cruel contrast to her imprisonment.

Finally, they stopped at a large wooden door.

"In here," the man said.

Inside was a grand study. Behind the desk sat a man cloaked in shadow. As he leaned forward, she recognized him-it was Bruno Russo.

"I'm Bruno Russo, patriarch of this family. You'll be working for us to repay your family's debt-"

Before he could finish, the door opened and a young man entered. His resemblance to Bruno was unmistakable.

"Who's the new maid, father?" he asked, his voice laced with interest. "I think I want her."

"You can have her-but you won't touch her," Bruno replied sharply. "She'll be your personal maid."

Sophia swallowed hard. "Okay, sir."

Leonardo Russo smiled, amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"What's your name, beautiful?"

"S-Sophia, sir," she stammered.

An older maid was called to prepare her for the tasks ahead. And thus, Sophia's new life in the Russo mansion began.

The older maid led Sophia through another hallway, this one narrower and more practical. She said little, offering only the occasional nod or grunt of direction. Eventually, they entered a modest guest room where a simple uniform was laid out on the bed.

"Get cleaned up," the maid instructed. "The young master doesn't like delays."

Sophia changed in silence, her mind racing. Her uniform-a black dress with a white apron-fit snugly but not provocatively. When she was done, the maid returned and inspected her without emotion.

"You'll be attending to Leonardo Russo from now on. You speak when spoken to, move when told, and never, ever step out of line."

Sophia nodded.

The maid led her to a new part of the mansion-a mix of sleek modernism and old-world wealth. They stopped in front of a door slightly ajar. She could hear faint music, the sound of ice clinking in a glass, and then-

"Bring her in," Leonardo called, voice lazy.

The maid pushed the door open, revealing a spacious suite filled with expensive furniture, books, and the overwhelming scent of cologne. Leonardo sat on a couch, a drink in hand, eyes already fixed on Sophia.

"Well," he said, standing slowly and walking toward her. "You clean up nicely."

Sophia kept her posture straight and her gaze lowered.

"Look at me," he commanded softly.

She obeyed.

He circled her slowly like a predator sizing up prey. "Do you know why you're here?"

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Good. Then you also know that I don't tolerate incompetence." He walked over to the window, sipping his drink. "Your job is to do everything I ask-without hesitation. That includes cleaning, errands, and personal assistance."

Sophia swallowed hard but didn't speak.

He turned, one brow raised. "Are you scared?"

She met his gaze with quiet defiance. "No."

Leonardo chuckled. "I like that." Then his face darkened. "But don't confuse bravery with stupidity."

There was a knock on the door. Another man stepped in-tall, lean, dressed in black. His presence shifted the air in the room.

"Leo," the man said curtly. "Your father wants to see you."

Leonardo sighed, tossing back the rest of his drink. "Duty calls." He glanced back at Sophia. "Stay here. Don't touch anything."

When the door shut behind them, Sophia let out a long breath. Her legs felt weak, but she remained standing. She looked around the room, taking in every detail-not out of curiosity, but survival. She needed to learn everything. Every escape route. Every habit. Every weakness.

This was no longer just about the debt.

This was about staying alive.

***

The next morning came far too soon.

Sophia had barely slept on the stiff mattress in the small maid's quarters she was shown to late the night before. She woke to the sound of a bell-sharp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. An older maid poked her head into the room moments later.

"He's awake. That bell means you're to report to him immediately."

Still groggy, Sophia hurried to wash her face and fix her uniform. Her hands trembled as she tied her apron, nerves rattling in her chest like a caged bird. She didn't know what to expect-but she knew one mistake could cost her everything.

She found Leonardo in the lounge area of his suite, shirtless, sipping coffee and scrolling through his phone. A pair of wireless headphones hung around his neck, and the scent of roasted beans and expensive cologne filled the air.

"You're late," he said without looking up.

"I'm sorry, sir," Sophia replied quickly, bowing her head.

"Bring me another coffee. Black. No sugar."

Sophia turned, but hesitated. "May I ask where the kitchen is?"

That made him look up.

His eyes narrowed. "You don't know where the kitchen is, and yet you're late? Tsk." He set his phone aside. "Follow me."

To her surprise, he led her down the hall himself. Along the way, he pointed out key areas of the mansion-the kitchen, laundry room, and his father's study, which she was warned never to approach without being summoned.

At the kitchen, he turned to her with a smirk. "Let's see if you know how to make coffee that won't kill me."

Under the watchful eyes of a few staff members, Sophia prepared the drink with shaking hands and returned it to Leonardo, who had resumed his lounging.

He sipped it slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "Hmm. Not terrible. I've had worse."

That small, backhanded compliment gave her a flicker of hope.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of tasks-ironing his shirts, folding his clothes, organizing his schedule under the supervision of his assistant, and cleaning areas of the suite most maids weren't even allowed to touch. Leonardo didn't speak much after the coffee, only occasionally snapping his fingers or pointing when he wanted something.

But every glance he gave her was calculated. Measured. As if he were deciding what to make of her.

By midday, her legs ached and her arms felt heavy, but she refused to let it show. She would not give him-or anyone in this house-the satisfaction of seeing her break.

That evening, as she brought in his dinner, Leonardo spoke again, voice calm and unreadable.

"You're not like the other maids," he said, setting his book aside.

Sophia paused. "How do you mean, sir?"

"You're careful. Observant. Brave-but not reckless." His eyes met hers. "I wonder how long that'll last."

Sophia's lips parted, but she had no words.

He leaned back, studying her. "You might just survive here, Sophia."

Then he dismissed her with a flick of his hand.

And as she stepped out into the hallway, heart pounding, she knew this was only the beginning.

***

The following morning, Sophia entered Leonardo's suite a few minutes before the bell rang, determined not to repeat her first-day mistake. She had memorized his routine, cleaned the room top to bottom, and even prepped his breakfast tray with precise care.

But as she placed the tray gently on the table near the window, Leonardo emerged from the bathroom, towel slung around his waist, a storm already brewing in his eyes.

"What is this?" he barked, pointing to the tray.

Sophia froze. "Your breakfast, sir."

He strode over, inspecting it as if she had served him poison. "Where's the honey for the tea? And the eggs-are these boiled? I never eat boiled eggs."

"I... I wasn't told," Sophia stammered.

"You weren't told?" His voice rose. "Do I look like I have time to teach you how to do a job you begged for?"

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll-"

He grabbed the tray and with a swift motion, threw it across the room. The ceramic dish shattered against the wall, food splattering onto the carpet.

Sophia gasped, instinctively stepping back. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Leonardo advanced toward her, his voice low but dangerous. "Listen carefully, little maid," he hissed. "You're here because I allowed it. You don't get to make mistakes. You don't get second chances. You're nothing but a debt."

The words cut deeper than she expected.

"I understand," she whispered, struggling to keep her chin from trembling.

Leonardo stared at her for a long moment, then scoffed and turned away. "Clean it up. And next time, get it right."

As he disappeared into his walk-in closet, Sophia stood frozen amidst the mess, her hands shaking at her sides.

Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away.

You're stronger than this, she reminded herself. For Grandpa. For survival. You have to be.

With trembling hands, she began to pick up the broken pieces.

And just like that, the last sliver of normalcy she clung to was gone.