~~Anastasia's POV~~
The night weighed down on me like a living thing. I lay awake on my narrow bed, the ceiling above me a dull, cracked white that seemed to close in more each second I stared at it. The air in my room was heavy, suffocating, though the window was wide open and the night breeze moved the curtains gently.
I couldn't shake the memory of Ricardo's eyes, dark and bottomless, burning into me across the restaurant, in Mr. Lexus's office, in every stolen glance that seemed less accidental and more deliberate each time.
The way his voice wrapped around my name made it feel like I didn't own it anymore. He owned it. He owned me.
I turned onto my side, curled my knees into my chest, and bit down on the edge of my blanket to keep from sobbing too loudly. Aunt Jessica hated noise. Any sign of weakness and she would tear into me like a predator scenting blood. I couldn't give her that satisfaction tonight, not when my body was already trembling with too much to explain.
I pressed my palms against my ears, but even in the silence I heard him. His voice.
His footsteps. The commanding calmness of a man who knew the world bent around him. "Anastasia," he had said, and in that moment I felt like my entire existence had been rewritten. I didn't know what he wanted from me, but I knew it wasn't good. Men like him didn't stop until they had stripped everything away from you.
The shadows in my room seemed to move with his shape. I sat up suddenly, clutching my blanket against my chest as if it could protect me from the dark. My chest rose and fell too quickly, my breaths short and sharp. There was nothing there. Nothing but the curtain moving. Nothing but my imagination. Still, I could swear I smelled his cologne, sharp and heavy, like smoke and steel, lingering in the air.
Sleep never came. By dawn, my eyes burned, heavy with exhaustion, but my body refused to let go. The sun crept through the cracks of the window, spilling pale light across my walls. I dragged myself up and pulled on my clothes, forcing my shaking hands to fold the blanket neatly and smooth the sheet. If Jessica found my bed unmade, there would be another lecture, another punishment, another slap to remind me I was nothing.
When I stepped into the kitchen, she was already there, waiting like a trap I couldn't avoid.
"You're late," she snapped, her eyes narrowing as if she'd caught me stealing air from her lungs.
"I—" My throat closed before I could explain. She didn't care anyway.
"Don't start. Just wash those dishes and mop the floor before you go running off to that stupid restaurant job. You're too much like your mother. No discipline. No worth."
Her words landed like stones in my stomach, heavy and sharp. I swallowed them down, forcing myself not to flinch. Fear mixed with exhaustion, but I obeyed, because obedience was the only shield I had left.
As I scrubbed the plates, my mind betrayed me again. I saw Ricardo's face reflected in the soapy water, his eyes watching me with that same unrelenting intensity. I blinked hard, shook my head, scrubbed harder until my hands were raw and red. But his face didn't vanish. It was as if he had carved himself into my vision, into the very air I breathed.
By the time I reached the restaurant with Emily, I was on the edge of collapse. My legs felt hollow, my skin too tight around my body. She noticed, of course she did. Emily always noticed.
"You look like hell, Anna," she said, pulling me aside before we went in. "What's going on?"
I forced a smile, brittle and unconvincing. "Nothing. I didn't sleep well."
Her frown deepened. "This is about that man, isn't it? The one from yesterday. The one who sent his driver."
The air caught in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything. How his stare made me feel like a trapped animal. How his card still burned in my pocket like a curse I couldn't throw away. How every part of me screamed that he wasn't going to let me go. But the words refused to form. Speaking them would make it real. Speaking them might summon him.
"I'll be fine," I whispered, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me.
She didn't believe me. I could see it in her eyes. But she let it go, at least for now.
The restaurant was crowded, noisy, alive with clattering plates and voices. Usually the chaos made me forget myself, gave me something to cling to. Today it felt like a cage. Every laugh, every footstep, every shadowed figure that entered the doorway made my heart seize. I kept expecting him to walk in, to sit at one of my tables, to call me over with that calm, commanding voice.
But he didn't come.
That almost made it worse. The not knowing. The waiting. The certainty that he was somewhere near, watching, planning.
At one point, I felt the weight of eyes on me so strong that my knees nearly buckled. I spun around, tray in hand, searching, but all I saw was a man at the corner table sipping coffee, a stranger. He wasn't Ricardo. Yet my body still trembled as though it had been him.
Hours passed like years. My hands shook so badly I dropped a glass, shattering it across the floor. Mr. Lexus's glare seared into me as I cleaned up the pieces, my fingers nearly slicing open on the shards.
By the end of my shift, I could barely stand. Emily offered to walk me home, but I shook my head. I didn't want her anywhere near the storm building around me. She didn't deserve to be caught in it.
The streets were dim as I walked, the sky painted in shades of fading blue and orange. I hugged myself, hastening my speed, the echo of footsteps behind me making my skin crawl. I veered around dashingly, but no one was there. Just a vacant highway, a stray puppy inhaling at the gutter.
Still, I ran the rest of the way home.
Jessica was waiting. She always was.
"You're late," she hissed as I slipped through the door. Her eyes scanned me like knives. "Do you think I don't know what you're doing? Sneaking around with men? You're going to end up ruined, just like your mother."
I froze, the accusation burning me from the inside. "That's not true," I whispered.
Her hand cracked across my face before I even finished. My head whipped to the side, pain exploding across my cheek.
"Don't you dare talk back to me," she spat. "You'll never be anything but a burden. A mistake. I should have left you to rot after your father died."
Tears burned my eyes, but I held them back. Crying would only feed her cruelty. I lowered my head, nodded, whispered, "Yes, ma'am."
She sneered, satisfied, and stormed off.
I stumbled into my room and closed the door behind me, pressing my back against it as silent sobs finally tore free. My cheek throbbed, my chest ached, and through it all, Ricardo's shadow loomed larger and larger.
I pulled his card from my pocket, staring at the bold letters of his name. I wanted to rip it into pieces, to throw it into the night, to erase him from my world. But my fingers wouldn't move. Something darker, heavier, told me it would be useless. He would come for me whether I kept it or not.
The room seemed to shrink around me, the air thinning until every breath was a struggle. I curled onto my bed, clutching the card in one hand and my pillow in the other. The sound of his voice echoed through my mind, relentless, inescapable.
Sleep never came that night either. Only the torment of knowing he was out there, waiting, watching, ready to take everything from me.
And deep inside, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him.