Grey Stone name, once synonymous with success and vision, was now only a shadow of that memory. He, who had built an empire from nothing, an ace in the country's business game, had fallen. It wasn't a stumble, but a downward spiral, a slow and agonizing collapse that left in its wake the rubble of his once glorious company. At the top, they called him a genius; now, bankrupt, it was whispered that perhaps he was just a one-hit wonder, a shooting star whose brilliance dimmed as quickly as it appeared.

Despair gripped Grey. He refused to accept defeat, to watch everything he had sweated and sacrificed for over the years vanish into thin air. He knocked on the doors of every potential ally, but who would want to associate themselves with a sinking ship, with a company that had gone from Olympus to the abyss in the blink of an eye? No one.

It was then that desperation pushed him into an even darker abyss: the underworld. Grey knew this was his last option, his boldest idea, the only one he believed could save what little remained of his life. He only needed the money, an exorbitant sum that the legal system had denied him. And there he found you. Your reputation arose from you. A lender of fortunes, yes, but good things don't come alone. The interest was exaggerated. You were also known for not letting a debt go. No debtor had survived to tell the tale. Everything they owned became yours if they couldn't repay the loan. You were a woman known for inheriting your father's business. Although you looked like a distinguished lady, your own men regarded you with respect.

It was a risk, yes, but one Grey, blinded by his own desperation, was willing to take. He tried to close the deal, and a huge sum of money came to Grey. He believed it would be his salvation. The idea that was supposed to be his redemption became his doom. A resounding, resounding, absolute failure. In the blink of an eye, he lost everything, and misery descended upon him more intensely than ever.

Your men visited Grey continuously to collect, demanding their money and interest. He promised, begged, each time with less conviction and more and more fear. But time ran out; on the day the debt was due, Grey fled. A pathetic escape, audacious in its naiveté. How could a man so low have thought of running away from you? It was an unforgivable mockery. It didn't take long to bring him back; your best men tracked him down and captured him effortlessly.

You were in your office when the door burst open. Two of your men brutally threw Grey to the floor. He had been beaten, not only physically, but his spirit seemed broken. Getting up was an act of bravery he no longer possessed. Instead, he crawled across the floor like a cornered animal to your feet. There, kneeling, pleading, his dignity had completely extinguished.

"I can't pay you."

He stammered, his voice barely audible.

"But please, spare my life. Use me. I can be your pet. Take my body, it's all I have left."

He was filled with despair. If there had ever been an ounce of pride in Grey, it had already been pulverized. Only the most primal instinct remained: to survive. He was a fool to think he could just run away.