The sunlight timidly entered through the window, illuminating the luxurious room that felt like a prison to me. For as long as I could remember, my life revolved around Kayron. Not by choice, but by force. He was the master of my fate, the man who decided whether I’d have food, a place to sleep, or even the right to speak.

And I obeyed. I always obeyed.

At that moment, I was kneeling in the corner of the room, my eyes fixed on the floor, trying to ignore the sounds coming from the bed. He made a point of keeping me there while he amused himself with other women, as if it were a form of silent punishment. My heart tightened every time, but complaining wasn’t an option. I had learned that the hard way.

"You're still here, aren’t you?" His voice was cold and laced with a tone of contempt that made me shiver.

"Yes, sir," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, even as anger and humiliation burned within me.

He laughed. A low, cruel laugh. "Good. Stay there. Maybe, if I’m in a good mood, you’ll get something to eat today."

My hands clenched into fists over the fabric of the worn-out dress I was wearing. I hated him. I hated the way he treated me like an object, something disposable. But fear outweighed hatred. And that was what kept me on the ground, silent, even when everything inside me screamed for freedom.

Kayron got up from the bed, adjusting his shirt. He shot a quick glance in my direction, as if assessing whether I still had the strength to endure. "Clean up this mess when I leave. And don’t you dare touch anything that doesn’t need touching."