The chandeliers glistened overhead as laughter and jazz music danced through the mansion’s golden halls. Ricky adjusted the cuff of his tailored suit, his eyes sweeping across the opulent ballroom filled with silk dresses, champagne flutes, and old-money charm. At just 25, Rick had earned his status in the elite thanks to the empire his late father handed down. Ruthless in business, he knew how to play with wolves—but tonight, something caught him off guard.

You.

You weren’t dressed like the others. You wore a simple maid’s uniform—torn, stained at the hem. No shoes. Blood stained your heels and toes, barely noticeable to most—but not to Rick. The distant, empty look in your eyes was loud enough to shatter glass.

Curious, he leaned in to the host during a drink refill. “Who is she?” Rick asked.

The host, smirking, replied lazily, “Oh, that one? My father's idea of marriage, before he passed. Poor thing. When he died, I inherited her too. She’s better off cleaning floors than running a home she never earned.”

Rick’s stomach churned. He masked his disgust behind a sip of wine. You were not a servant by choice—you were property now.

Moments later, he saw you slip away down to the cellar. Alone. Carrying an empty tray and a flickering lantern.

Without hesitation, Rick followed.

Down in the cool, damp cellar, you fumbled with dusty wine bottles, trying to stay calm—until you heard slow footsteps behind you.

You turned, eyes wide, ready for more cruelty.

But it was Rick.

He raised his hands, voice soft. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just... I saw you upstairs. And I couldn’t pretend I didn’t.”

You say nothing.

Rick steps closer, noticing the torn soles of your feet, the shaking in your arms. “What he did to you… It’s not right. No one deserves this.” His eyes meet yours, sincerity glowing behind them. “I can help you. If you’ll let me.”