I didn't even get the chance to check my surroundings properly. The moment we arrived, they were rushing me. Hands patting, people checking, like I was some object for display, not a person. And I am not at ease knowing Arden isn't coming with us.
Inside, the private jet was colder than I expected. Luxurious, yes but it felt sterile, heartless. My mom was laughing with the crew like we were going on a family vacation, not a shoot. I looked around. Hoping for Arden, and thinking about how to reach him on the phone.
I sat down silently near the window. An attendant, one of his people, offered me a drink. "To relax before the shoot, Ms. Quixeste," he said with a calm smile.
I hesitated, but I was parched. I took a sip.
Just water. Or… I thought it was. But minutes passed, and my eyelids got heavy. My head spun slowly, and the muffled laughter around me faded into something distant and distorted.
Then, darkness.
---
I woke up.
Groggy. Weak.
The sheets were foreign. The room was unfamiliar. My heart immediately started to race.
"Where am I?" I whispered, my throat dry.
I sat up and looked around. My clothes had changed. I was now wearing a loose robe I don't remember putting on. The air conditioning buzzed in the background, too cold against my skin. I reached for my phone instinctively, nowhere in sight.
Then I saw him.
That old man.
Sitting comfortably on the armchair, a glass of wine in hand, watching me like a predator sizing up its prey.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he said with a smirk. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."
I forced myself to stay calm. My fingers clenched the sheets tightly.
"Where's everyone else?" I asked, trying to sound casual, my voice trembling slightly.
He laughed. "Oh, you thought this was a group shoot? No, darling. They're here for a break. A little vacation. I planned something special for us." Sounding so slow.
My blood ran cold. "Why just us?" I asked, heart pounding in my chest.
He stood up slowly and walked toward me. I instinctively backed away on the bed.
"You're mine now," he said. "You should've known that the moment you stepped into this industry. No one else will care for you like I do."
Tears blurred my vision. "You're sick," I said, voice cracking. "I want to go home."
He chuckled, dark and low. "Home? You don't have a home anymore. Your mother sold you to this life. I'm the only constant you've got left."
I started crying. Loud, broken sobs I couldn't hold back anymore.
"I want out!" I screamed. "I want freedom! I want my life back!"
He stepped closer and grabbed my arm tightly.
"You won't escape this, Antheia. No one will believe you. You try and speak? You lose everything. You'll never be anything again."
"You can't control me," I whispered, trying to pull away.
"I already do," he growled, shoving me back. "Who are you going to call? Mr. Arden?" he sneered, mocking me. "He's just a toy you're clinging to."
I choked, trying to get off the bed. But he pinned me down, lips trying to crash into mine. I thrashed and screamed. The pressure of his body, the weight, the disgusting scent of wine on his breath, it triggered everything I had buried. I sobbed, voice raw and desperate.
Then—
The door burst open.
"Get the hell off her!"
Arden.
Breathless. Sweating. Furious.
He charged at the old man, fists slamming into his face with a force that echoed in the room. The man stumbled, fell to the floor, blood spilling from his mouth.
Arden's chest heaved. He stood protectively in front of me, shielding me.
I sat there, frozen, trembling violently. Everything had collapsed. Everything.
He turned to me and dropped to his knees.
"Antheia... are you okay?" His voice was soft now. Pained.
I couldn't speak. I just stared at him, relief, disbelief, and overwhelming fear washing over me all at once.
Then I broke.
I threw myself into his arms and sobbed, loud, uncontrollable cries. Arden held me tightly, wrapping his arms around me as if to tell me he was there.
"shhh" he whispered, over and over again.
-----
Everything after that moment blurred. The old man lay bloodied on the floor, and I barely processed anything. Arden was yelling into his phone—his voice angry but steady. Authorities? A private hospital? I couldn't tell. I just heard murmurs. Footsteps. Doors slamming. The man who hurt me was taken away, and I didn't have to see him again.
Arden made sure of that.
But instead of handing him to the public, Arden kept everything quiet. His jaw was tight, his voice lower than usual when he explained it to someone over the phone—"We'll handle this internally. He's done."
And I believed him. I trusted him.
---
Fast forward…
We didn't go back home. Arden brought me to another hotel, quiet, hidden, nothing like the cold luxury of the first one. This time, it felt like a safehouse. He made sure even mom didn't know where I was. He said she'd only disrupt my peace.
And I knew he was right.
When I entered the room, everything inside me broke again. I dropped my bag, collapsed on the bed, and curled up. My arms wrapped around myself like I was the only shield I had left. The sobs returned. They came in waves, violent, gasping, aching.
But this time… I felt safe.
I don't know how long I cried until I heard a soft knock, followed by his voice.
"Can I come in?"
I couldn't answer, but the door opened gently. Arden stood there with a tray of food, drinks, even a chocolate bar. He gave a half-smile.
"I didn't know what you liked, so I brought a bit of everything."with a smile
He sat on the edge of the bed and waited. No pressure. No questions. Just presence.
I didn't eat. I just watched him. He started talking about the hotel room's weird wallpaper pattern, then about how bad he was at ordering coffee last week. I didn't smile, but I listened.
Eventually, I whispered, "Arden…"
He looked at me immediately.
"I want to tell you something."
He didn't interrupt. He just nodded.
So I told him everything.
From the first day… the locked room… the man… the threats… my mom's silence. How I was just fifteen. How I screamed but no one heard me. How I never stopped screaming inside.
His face changed with every word. His eyes went glassy, fists clenched. He stood up midway through the story and paced like he couldn't stay still, like every part of him was aching to undo what had been done to me.
When I finished, there was silence.
He knelt in front of me, his hands on my knees, and looked up, completely broken.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "Antheia… I'm so sorry."
Then he wrapped me in his arms.
Tightly.
Protectively.
I didn't know I needed it until it happened.
"I'm going to do something about it," he said against my hair. "Even if the whole system falls down. "
He reminds me about how my father was. I wanted to believe him. And maybe, for the first time, I did.
He stayed until my breathing calmed. He talked me down, held me when I started crying again. Eventually, exhaustion won. My body gave up.
I fell asleep with my head against his chest, safe in the arms of the only person who ever chose me without a contract.