Chapter 1 The Genesis

I sit on the bed in a room that feels as unfamiliar as it is intimidating. In my old home, I never had my own space-I always slept on the floor, huddled in a corner. But here, I'm in a large room with a bed so huge it could fit ten people. Its soft pillows and neatly arranged sheets should be comforting, yet they only remind me of how trapped I feel.

I never wanted to be here. The moment I signed that document, I lost something precious-I lost control of my own life. Now, I must live in this house with a man who not only broke my heart but also shattered my world. How can I share a home, and even a life, with the man who ruined everything for me?

That man is Asher Black-a dangerous man with money, power, and a reputation that sends shivers down my spine. I curse the night I met him because it was that very night my life was forever changed.

Do you want to know how it all began? Before I tell you about that terrible night, let me introduce myself and explain the life that led me here.

My name is Mirabel Pierce. I lost my mother when I was just five years old. Life without her has been cold and lonely. To make matters worse, my father-lost in his own sorrow-brought home his mistress, who came with a daughter. Once, I had known joy and laughter. But everything turned dark after my mother died. I often wished I could have died with her, escaping the cruel world I was forced to live in.

After her death, my stepmother treated me as nothing more than a servant. I was expected to do all the chores, cook meals that never tasted right, and clean every inch of our home. If I failed, punishment was swift and brutal-an iron belt leaving marks on my back that I hide from everyone. Each scar is a painful reminder of a past I'd rather forget.

To support myself and keep up with school, I started working part-time jobs. That's how I ended up at a small motel one fateful night. I was nearly finished for the day when my manager, overwhelmed with work, asked me to take care of a guest in room 13.

I remember standing at the door of room 13, knocking softly. After several tries, the door creaked open. Inside, the room was so dark I could barely see a thing. I carefully placed a drink on a small table and turned to leave.

Then everything changed.

As I was walking out, I felt a strong arm grab me. For a split second, I thought the guest might need help with something. But my hope quickly turned to terror when he pushed me onto the bed. My heart pounded, and fear took over. I begged him to stop, my voice shaking as I pleaded for mercy-but my words were lost in the overwhelming darkness of that room.

He ripped my clothes away as if they were nothing, and I found myself screaming for help. I cried out as loud as I could, but no one came to my rescue. When he realized that my screams were growing louder, he struck my face hard to silence me. I struggled desperately, but he was far too strong. In that unbearable moment, I was forced to submit to everything he wanted, and I felt my life slip away from me.

That night, the man who would become known as Asher Black changed everything. In one horrifying moment, I lost not only my innocence but also the hope of a life I could have controlled.

Now, as I sit in this strange room, I am haunted by memories of that night, the scars on my back, and the weight of the document I signed. I wonder if I will ever be free from this life or if I am doomed to live as a prisoner in a house that feels no less confining than a cell.

I remember the day clearly. My stepmother came to me with a cold look and said, "Pack your things." At first, I thought I was being sent somewhere safe. But then she told me I was to live with a man-and that he had already paid my dowry.

It was cruel to realize that my life was being decided for me. The worst part was the shocking truth: the man I was sold to was none other than Asher Black-the very man who had raped me. Hadn't he hurt me enough already? Now I was forced to live with him, bound by a contract that said I must stay with him for five long years and bear him an heir.

I was lost in my thoughts, feeling numb and trapped, when the door suddenly opened. There he stood-Asher himself-looking as handsome as ever in his own dangerous way. With his neatly styled hair, tall frame, and full, confident lips, he seemed almost untouchable. I couldn't bear to meet his eyes.

Then he spoke. "You didn't touch your food," he said in a low, accusing tone. His voice stirred my anger. I knew he was drunk that terrible night, and I knew all too well how he had ruined my life. Hearing him speak so casually, as if nothing mattered, made my blood boil.

"I'm not hungry," I replied firmly, standing up and trying to walk away. But he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks. "Don't walk away when I'm talking to you," he ordered.

Something inside me snapped. "And don't touch me with your disgusting hands!" I shouted, and in a burst of defiant anger, I slapped him on the cheek.

For a moment, I froze in disbelief. Did I just slap him? He stared into my eyes and said, "You slapped me?" as he stepped closer. In that instant, terror gripped me. I wondered, is today the day I die? My heart pounded as I took a step back, unsure of what would happen next.