The sound of the door opening startled Evelina awake.
Her body stiffened instantly, her heartbeat thrashing against her ribs. For a fleeting second she thought it was him—the man with the eyes like knives, the name that echoed in her head like a curse: Kairo Volkov. But the figure that stepped inside was not him.
It was a woman.
A servant, dressed in plain black, her movements precise and quiet. In her hands, she carried a small tray. The faint smell of food rose from it—rice, a piece of bread, some stew that still steamed faintly.
Evelina's stomach clenched with betrayal. She hadn't eaten since… since before the café. She didn't even know how long ago that was. Hours? A day? Time was strange here, slipping like sand through trembling hands.
Her dry throat burned. The hunger in her belly screamed louder than her pride.
The servant knelt, setting the plate on the floor in front of her. Evelina swallowed hard. She wanted to speak, to ask her questions, to beg, to plead, Why are you doing this to me? Please, help me escape!
Her lips trembled as she forced out the words. "P-please. Where am I? Can you… help me? I don't belong here."
The servant's face was unreadable, her eyes lowered. She didn't answer. She didn't even pause. She placed the plate carefully, almost tenderly, then rose to her feet. Without a single glance, without a single word, she turned and walked to the door.
The lock clicked.
Silence returned.
It was worse than cruelty. It was erasure.
Evelina stared at the food, the warmth of it blurring in her vision through tears. Her chest heaved, the sobs bursting out of her as though her ribs couldn't contain them. She pressed her hands to her face, but the sound of her crying filled the small room anyway, raw and broken.
"Why?" she whispered between gasps. "Why is this happening to me? What did I do?"
The scent of stew rose, mingling with her tears. Her stomach snarled again, humiliating her, reminding her that she was still alive even when every part of her wanted to vanish.
With shaking fingers, Evelina reached for the bread. She lifted it halfway to her mouth.
Then something inside her snapped.
Her hand trembled violently, then in one sudden motion, she hurled the entire plate across the room. The crash shattered the silence, fragments scattering against the wall, food splattering across the cold floor.
Her breath tore in sharp gasps, her chest burning with defiance, grief, rage, all tangled together. "I don't want it!" she screamed. "I don't want anything from him!"
Far away, in another room filled with shadows and glowing screens, Kairo Volkov leaned back in his chair.
His study was lined with shelves of old books, dossiers, and glass cases that reflected faintly in the low light. But his attention was fixed on the row of CCTV screens in front of him.
On one of them, Evelina knelt in the corner of her locked room, her hair a dark curtain around her face, her chest heaving as shards of porcelain glimmered around her.
Kairo's jaw flexed. His fingers drummed against the armrest, slow and deliberate.
The footage told him everything he needed to know. The girl hadn't eaten. She hadn't begged properly. She still believed she had a choice.
Cold anger coiled in him.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. A single, precise decision hardened in his mind.
A moment later, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor toward Evelina's door.
She flinched when the lock rattled violently. Then the door slammed open, the sound like a gunshot.
And then—an actual gunshot.
The explosion of it filled the room, sharp and deafening. The bullet tore into the wall just inches from her head, sending shards of plaster scattering over her hair. Evelina froze, her scream dying in her throat.
Her wide eyes shot up. He was there.
Kairo Volkov.
He stood framed in the doorway, tall and immovable, the black of his tailored suit absorbing the dim light. His hand gripped the gun casually, as if it were merely an extension of him, nothing more remarkable than a pen or a glass of wine.
His face was calm. Too calm. His icy gaze locked onto her as if she were the only thing that existed.
He stepped inside. The door clicked shut behind him. The sound was final, like the lid of a coffin.
Kairo didn't speak at first. He let the silence stretch, let her pulse hammer in her ears until she thought she might faint.
Finally, his voice came—low, steady, cutting through her like steel.
"What I give you," he said, each word measured, "you will take without a word. Understood?"
Evelina shook her head violently, tears spilling down her cheeks. "N-no… I don't want this, I don't want any of this! Please—"
Kairo's eyes narrowed slightly, though his tone didn't change. "No?" He took a slow step forward, and she scrambled back until her shoulders hit the wall.
"You think you still have choices," he said softly, almost like a teacher correcting a child. "You think there's somewhere else for you to go."
Evelina's voice cracked. "I just want to go home!"
The faintest smile ghosted over his lips, humorless and cruel. "Home?"
Another step. His presence filled the room, colder than the walls, heavier than the silence.
"Listen carefully, Evelina," he said, her name precise on his tongue. "If you walk out of this room, the world outside will not save you. It will devour you. You would be dead before you reached the end of the street. Do you know why?"
She shook her head, trembling, the tears falling faster now.
"Because your home no longer exists." His hand reached into his jacket, pulling out a folder of papers, its edges sharp and crisp. He let it fall onto the floor between them with a dull thud.
"Your family," Kairo said, his gaze never leaving hers, "sold you. To me. To repay their debt."
Evelina's breath caught. She stared at him, frozen, uncomprehending.
"No… no, they wouldn't…" Her voice shook, breaking apart.
"They would. And they did." His voice was merciless, unbending. "You are theirs no longer. You are mine."
Her eyes dropped to the folder, trembling fingers hesitating in the air as though the papers themselves might burn her.
Kairo took a final step forward, his shadow falling over her completely.
"Check the documents," he said, his tone quiet but absolute. "See for yourself, if you still cling to illusions."
Evelina's breath came in short, sharp gasps. Her hands hovered over the folder, but she couldn't bring herself to touch it. She couldn't look. She didn't want to.
The truth was already shattering her from the inside.
Kairo straightened, slipping his gun back into its holster as if the matter was settled.
"From this moment forward," he said, his eyes colder than ever, "you belong to me."
And with that, he turned, his steps slow and deliberate as he left the room.
The door shut. The lock clicked.
Evelina was left on the floor, her body shaking, the folder at her knees. Her vision blurred with tears, but the words echoed in her mind, unstoppable, inescapable:
Your family sold you.
She reached trembling fingers toward the folder, her hand hovering over the edge. For a long moment, she didn't move. Then her hand fell away, clutching her chest instead as the sobs ripped through her again, deeper, sharper, breaking her into pieces.
Her world had ended. And a new one had begun.
To be continued…