A soft breeze drifted through the half-open window. The room smelled faintly of lavender and something unfamiliar—too clean, too elegant. Belle stirred slowly, her eyelids fluttering open to the sight of silk curtains and golden fixtures. This wasn't the servant quarters. The bed was soft beneath her, her body sore but bandaged. Someone had tended to her wounds.
As her vision cleared, a figure came into focus. He was sitting casually on a velvet chair near the bed, one leg crossed over the other. His black shirt clung tightly to his body, and his arms rested lazily on the armrests. His grin was slow, dark, and amused.
"Finally awake?" he said.
Belle blinked, startled.
"You've been out for hours. You're lucky," he continued, standing up and walking toward the bed. "If it wasn't for me, you'd still be bleeding on the floor."
He stopped just at the foot of the bed. His presence felt heavier than the room itself.
"Are you always that stubborn?"
Belle stayed silent, her eyes shifting to the ornate ceiling above her.
"I'm talking to you," he said, his voice sharper now.
Still, she didn't reply.
He let out a low chuckle. "I can see you are that stubborn."
He stepped closer until he was beside the bed. Then, without warning, he climbed onto it—one knee to the left of her hip, the other to the right, caging her beneath him. Belle's breath caught as he leaned down, his face inches from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath.
"You should learn something," he whispered. "Stubborn girls don't last long here."
He reached down and grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. His touch wasn't gentle. It wasn't cruel either. It was dangerous.
"When I talk to you…" he paused, eyes narrowing, "…you respond, Belle."
A flicker of fire sparked in her gaze. Her lips trembled as she spat out, "My name is not Belle. It's Isla!"
He laughed softly. "What fire you have for a slave."
His hand moved slowly from her chin to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, then to her thigh. She tensed. His fingers hovered too long on her skin, creeping up slowly toward her stomach. Disgust and panic boiled inside her.
With all the strength she had, Isla shoved her palm hard against his chest. "Don't you dare!" she screamed. "I'd rather die than let any of you monsters touch me!"
Alessandro's body shifted back from the force. He caught himself before falling completely, then sat upright, his expression unreadable for a moment. And then, he smiled.
That same evil grin from before returned.
"Well," he murmured, standing up and adjusting his sleeves. "We'll see about that, Ms. Isla."
As he walked to the door, he stopped to glance over his shoulder.
"Welcome to the East Wing," he said coldly. "You've been noticed. That's rarely a good thing here."
The door closed behind him with a soft click. Isla lay still, her heart racing, her breath shallow. She wasn't safe here—no matter how soft the bed or how expensive the room.
In the hallway, two maids passed by. She barely heard them through the crack in the door.
"…another marked girl, did you hear?" one whispered.
"…for the selection," the other replied.
Isla's fists clenched beneath the sheets.
She had no idea what was coming next—but she knew it wasn't mercy.
************************************
The door creaked open softly.
Belle, still sitting on the bed, flinched. Her heart was still pounding from the strange encounter with Alessandro. Her body felt sore, her mind full of questions and fear. She gripped the blanket tighter around her chest, as if it could protect her from everything happening around her.
A young maid stepped into the room, holding a folded dress. It was soft pink with white lace—delicate, expensive-looking. Nothing like the rough servant clothes Belle was used to.
The maid didn't speak. She walked quietly to the edge of the bed and gently placed the dress down.
Belle stared at the girl. She looked only a little older than her, with soft brown eyes and a face that seemed both kind and afraid.
Belle swallowed. Her voice was quiet, still shaken.
"Miss… who was that man?"
The maid froze. Her back stiffened as she kept her head low. She didn't answer at first.
Belle leaned forward a little. "Please… the man who was here when I woke up. Who is he?"
Finally, the maid looked up. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"That is Lord Alessandro… he's Lord Luciano's younger brother."
Belle's eyes widened. Her lips parted slightly. "Was… was he the one who saved me?"
The maid nodded.
"Yes, Belle. He found you unconscious and bleeding. He brought you here and made sure your wounds were treated."
Belle felt her chest tighten. She hadn't even said thank you. For all the fear he brought, he'd saved her. That fact made her feel conflicted. Guilty, even.
She looked down at her hands, twisting them in her lap. Then she looked up again, more urgently this time, and reached out to grab the maid's hand.
"Wait—please, tell me something."
The maid blinked in surprise but didn't pull away.
"What is the selection?" Belle asked quickly. "What does it mean?"
The girl looked around the room nervously, then rushed to the door. She peeked into the hallway, checking both sides. After a moment, she closed the door softly and turned back to Belle with a more serious expression.
Lowering her voice, the maid said,
"Belle… the selection is when new maids are tested. It's a special night that happens every month."
Belle frowned, confused. "Tested for what?"
The girl stepped closer.
"For Lord Luciano… you see, he's not like most men. They say he's a sex god. He has... needs. Very strong ones. He's addicted to pleasure. And the selection is where he chooses which new girls can satisfy him."
Belle stared at her, horrified.
The maid continued, whispering now.
"He watches the girls… touches them… sometimes more. If he's interested, he tests them. In front of others. And if you're not good enough, you're thrown aside. But if you please him, he'll favor you."
She looked down at the floor.
"Calista is his favorite because she's the only one who satisfies him in bed. That's why she's powerful. That's why she can do whatever she wants."
Belle felt cold all over. She shook her head slowly. "You're saying… he'll… he'll sleep with me?"
The maid met her eyes and gave a sad, small nod.
"Yes. I was part of the last selection. I couldn't walk properly for days after…"
Belle covered her mouth with her hand. She felt like she might be sick.
The maid stepped back suddenly, panicked.
"I have to go before anyone notices I'm gone."
She opened the door, but paused for just a moment.
"If you want to survive here… you might want to think about impressing Lord Luciano. With your skills in bed."
Then, without another word, she disappeared down the hallway, leaving Belle frozen in silence.
The silk dress sat untouched beside her. The room felt colder than before.
And for the first time, Belle truly feared what was coming next.