Chapter 5 Into the Lion's Den

The air was too still.

Mia folded the last dress into the suitcase, her fingers trembling as they brushed the fabric. She didn't own anything expensive her wardrobe was made of clearance racks and forgotten hand-me-downs but she packed each item carefully. Methodically. As if preparing for execution.

Downstairs, she could already hear the clink of cups and murmured voices. Breakfast. Like it was just another day.

A soft knock.

Rose peeked in. Her face was blotchy, her voice hoarse. "Mia, you don't have to do this. I'll take you away. We'll disappear. Please."

Mia forced a smile. "And go where, Rose? He'd find us. People like him... they always do."

"You're not some object to be traded!"

"No," Mia said quietly. "But apparently, I was born to be used."

She zipped the suitcase, stood straight, and looked her sister in the eyes. "Let's not make this harder. Please."

Downstairs, Cross wore a smug expression, his expensive tie knotted with care. "Well, well. You clean up nicely," he said, raising his coffee cup. "Try not to embarrass yourself."

Sia didn't even look up from her phone. "Don't forget to say 'thank you' for the new life, Mia."

Mia gave them nothing. Not a single word. Just walked past like a ghost already fading from their lives.

A sleek black car idled outside. Dark-tinted windows. Silent driver.

She turned one last time. Rose stood on the steps, crying silently.

Mia didn't cry.

She climbed in and didn't look back.

The car purred down winding roads, the city shrinking behind her.

The black car came to a slow, quiet stop.

Not a single sound echoed, but somehow Mia could feel them, the eyes, the air, the weight of power pressing down before she even stepped out.

The car door was opened by a well-dressed butler with sharp gloves and a practiced smile. "Miss Linth," he said, bowing just slightly, "welcome to the estate."

Mia's heart raced. Her throat felt dry. She slowly stepped out.

She half-expected coldness, harsh stares, a long walk of shame.

But no.

Instead

She was greeted like a princess.

Maids lined both sides of the grand courtyard, dressed in clean uniforms, heads slightly bowed in silence and respect. A few men, security, drivers, estate workers stood behind them in neat formation.

All eyes were on her.

Mia blinked rapidly. The wind didn't even dare blow too hard as she was led across the courtyard, up the steps of a mansion so grand it made her family home look like a guesthouse.

But he wasn't there.

The man who bought her.

The man her father gave her to.

The one who owned her now.

He wasn't among them.

Or at least she didn't see anyone that seems like he could wake overnight and buy a human like its some commodity

And for some strange reason... that made her feel more exposed.

"Please," one of the older maids spoke up, "allow us to take you to your quarters."

Mia nodded mutely, still dazed.

She was escorted through shining halls and golden chandeliers, floors that gleamed like glass, past enormous paintings she didn't dare glance at for too long. It was too much. Too luxurious. Too suffocating.

It felt like she was being delivered, not welcomed. Like a porcelain doll being gifted to a king.

They reached a private wing and opened the double doors.

"This is yours," a maid whispered softly.

Her room was bigger than her entire apartment back home. The bed looked like royalty had died on it. Velvet curtains, polished dressers, soft roses on the nightstand. A walk-in closet, a private bath that smelled of lavender and roses.

Mia turned in awe

And froze.

A small boy had just run through the hallway and threw his arms around her waist without warning.

"You!" he shouted, giggling. "You're here!"

Her mouth parted.

It was him.

The little boy from the park.

His bright eyes, his infectious laugh, the way he grabbed her like they'd known each other forever.

She knelt slowly. "It's really you..."

Before she could say more, a maid appeared and gently took his hand. "Come now, Young Master, it's time for your studies."

He waved at her as they led him off. "See you later, pretty lady!"

Mia blinked.

Young Master?

Her stomach turned, but her thoughts were spinning too fast to settle.

Later that day, just as the sun began to set, the butler returned.

"Miss Linth," he said softly. "You are requested for a private dinner with Mr. Gun."

That name again.

She tried to keep her expression calm, but her fingers clenched the silk fabric of the robe they gave her.

Before she could speak, maids swarmed her gently. She was bathed. Perfumed. Combed and dressed with such care it almost made her break. She hadn't been touched with kindness in so long it felt foreign. Delicate.

She stared at herself in the mirror.

Hair styled, lips tinted a soft pink gown flowing like liquid silver over her frame. She looked untouched. Fragile. Breakable.

A doll wrapped in velvet and shame.

The private dining room was dimly lit, quiet, and terrifying in its elegance.

She was seated first. Alone.

The silence gnawed at her bones.

Every second that passed, her heart thumped louder. She couldn't breathe. Her palms were slick.

Then

He walked in.

Tall. Commanding. Wearing a tailored black suit like it was woven for him by sin itself. His stride is calm. Certain. The air shifted around him, like it knew to obey.

Gun.

Her heart stopped.

Her breath caught.

She knew that face.

The man from the park.

If she could just pin point that memo...

"The adorable boy's father" she almost said it out loud.

Her knees went weak beneath the table.

It was him. It had been him all along.

The same man who had held the boy's hand that day. Who had smiled faintly at her. Who had already seen her at her lowest barefaced, broken, crying under a tree and now sat across from her as her owner.

Her stomach churned in embarrassment, in disbelief, in raw shame.

She lowered her eyes, praying for the ground to open up and swallow her whole.

"I see," he said coolly, pouring his own drink. "You recognize me now."

Mia clenched her fingers in her lap. "Y-Yes..."

"That day in the park," he mused, sipping, "you looked like you had nothing left."

She said nothing.

He set the glass down gently. "Now here you are. Looking like a bride without a wedding."

Mia blinked rapidly to hold back the tears threatening to betray her.

"You belong to me now, Mia Linth," he said firmly. "Not in name. In reality."

Her throat closed up.

"There will be rules," Gun continued, his tone cool, sharp. "I don't tolerate disobedience. I don't entertain rebellion. You will live here under my roof, follow my rules, eat when I say, speak when spoken to, and " he leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing "you will not attempt to run."

Mia's chest rose and fell shakily.

"Your only job," he said, "is to obey."

Her lashes trembled.

Gun stood, walking slowly toward her side of the table.

She didn't dare look up.

He tilted her chin with a single finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. Cold. Fierce. Unreadable.

"I don't need you to love me," he said. "I only need you to submit."