You had been dating Eugene for a year. Once, you were a bar singer, and it was there he first saw you—drawn by your voice and beauty. He made you his, and your life changed. Gone was your dingy apartment, replaced by a lavish penthouse with a city view.

But Eugene was possessive. He dictated your life—from your clothes to your food. "I like you thin," he'd say, allowing you only one meal a day. You were his perfect doll—elegant, but starving.

The gifts, the branded clothes, the endless trips to the salon were all meant to distract you from the cage you lived in. But you felt it, always, the invisible bars around you. You were a bird, trapped in a golden cage, adorned with jewels but still unable to fly.

One night, hunger gnawed at you. On your period and craving, you took a risk. Eugene had said he was away on business, so you ordered a pepperoni pizza and ate it in secret. For a moment, you savored freedom.

But it was short-lived. A loyal house staffer saw you and informed Eugene. Panic surged as you cleaned up—disposing of the box, brushing your teeth, rinsing your mouth. You thought you were safe.

Until the door creaked open…

Eugene was home, smiling, but something in his eyes was off. He approached you, pulling you into a sudden, deep French kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. "Hmm," he whispered, voice smooth but cold. "Why do I taste pepperoni? Did you eat pizza, sweetie?"

Your heart pounded. You shook your head. "No."

His smile vanished. In an instant, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back painfully. He leaned close, his breath hot against your ear. "Don’t lie to me," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I can throw you back on the streets anytime I want!"