Anastasia’s heart hammered frantically against her ribs. The word echoed in her mind, toxic and heavy.
Slave.
"A... a slave?" She stammered, her voice cracking as pure panic seized her. She forced a breathless, defensive laugh, trying desperately to rationalize his words. "You... you mean like a maid? You want me to clean your houses? To cook for you? Is that it?"
Damian didn’t answer right away. He simply watched her struggle, his calm, dark eyes tracking the frantic rise and fall of her chest. Slowly, he set his coffee cup down.
"Don’t act foolish, Anastasia," he said, his voice dropping into a chillingly flat, ruthless tone. "If I wanted a maid, I could hire an entire agency for a fraction of the cost. I don’t pay one hundred million dollars for someone to sweep my floors. You know exactly what I want from you."
The unsaid truth hung violently in the air. He wanted her. Her body, her will, her complete and utter capitulation.
Ana gulped, a thick wave of nausea hitting her as she glared across the table at him through a sheen of angry tears. "This is too much," she choked out, her voice shaking with a mixture of terror and betrayal. "You... you were not like this before. You were cold, but you... I can’t believe this. You are a monster."
Damian’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, the ruthless edge in his eyes hardened. He reached inside his tailored suit jacket and pulled out a sleek, black leather folder. He tossed it casually across the long marble table. It slid forward, stopping right in front of her plate.
"I am a businessman, Ana. I am giving you a once-in-a-lifetime exit strategy," Damian said, leaning back and folding his hands. His tone left absolutely no room for negotiation. "I will give you exactly three days to decide. Three days to read those documents."
Ana looked down at the black folder as if it were a poisonous snake.
"Either you sign that contract and give me your absolute submission for one year," Damian purred, his voice dropping to a lethal, soft whisper, "or you can wait out the remaining twelve months of your deadline... and when that clock strikes zero, the divorce will be nullified. We will be married again, Anastasia... and your pathetic little dream to break free from my clutches will remain a dream forever."
The finality of his words crushed the remaining air from her lungs. Another marriage. Being trapped as his legal wife forever, under his absolute control, with no escape clause.
It was too much.
Driven by pure panic, Ana bolted out of her chair. She didn’t say another word.
She turned on her heel and ran, her bare feet flying across the cold marble floor as she burst through the double doors, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of his presence.
Down at the head of the table, Damian didn’t bother to stand up. He didn’t chase her.
Instead, a slow, dark smirk played on his lips as he watched her frantic retreat. He knew she had nowhere to go. He knew the world outside was a trap he controlled.
Leaning back in his chair, Damian pulled his encrypted smartphone from his pocket and dialed a direct number. The call connected on the very first ring.
"Sir," his head of security answered instantly.
Damian stared at the empty doorway where Ana had just disappeared, his dark eyes flashing with a predatory satisfaction.
"Make today her last day at work," Damian commanded, his voice cold, smooth, and entirely ruthless. "Fire her from each and every place she works. Effective immediately."
"Understood, sir."
Damian ended the call, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He picked up his coffee cup, taking a slow sip. The game had officially begun, and he had already cornered his slave.
He wanted her to understand the absolute futility of her situation. He wanted her to look around the world and realize that there was no savior coming for her. No one else could pay this debt. No one else could save her from him.
Anastasia ran out of the estate like the devil himself was chasing her.
The butler had hurried after her in the grand foyer, holding out a pair of simple, wearable flats. "Miss Vance, please, your shoes..."
"Keep them!" Ana had snarled, her vision blurred with tears of pure rage. She snatched the shoes from his hands and violently threw them onto the marble floor before pushing past the heavy front gates.
She didn’t care that she was walking onto the pavement barefoot. She didn’t care about the cold Pennsylvania air biting at her skin. All she knew was that she had to get away from Damian Sterling.
But escaping his house didn’t mean escaping his reach.
____________________
By noon, Anastasia’s feet were bruised and cut, but her spirit was completely broken.
The day had been a living nightmare. One by one, she had walked into her jobs, only to be met with cold stares and sudden, hostile complaints.
At the morning café, her supervisor hadn’t even let her put on her apron. "You’re never punctual, Anastasia. We need someone reliable, not someone who thinks they can stroll in whenever they please. You’re done here."
When she hurried to the daycare center, hoping it was just a fluke, the head cook had crossed her arms tightly. "I’ve watched you the past week, Ana. You’re just too slow. The kids eat late because of you. I’m letting you go."
Even the dog owners she walked for had abruptly canceled their contracts over text, claiming they couldn’t trust her anymore.
It was a systematic execution of her entire life. Every single safety net she had spent two painful years building was being shredded to pieces right before her eyes... and she knew exactly who was holding the shears.
By the time the sun set, Ana dragged her exhausted, aching body into her final destination... the late-night diner. Her feet were throbbing, leaving faint, dusty marks on the linoleum floor as she walked up to the counter.
Tom, her manager, was standing there with a heavy sigh, holding a white envelope. He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.
"Ana... look," Tom began, his voice sounding tight and uncomfortable. "You’ve been a good kid, but I’ve been looking over the shift logs. The customers have been complaining that you look completely out of it lately. You’re bringing down the energy of the place, and honestly, we just can’t work with..."
"Tom."
Anastasia raised her hand, her voice a hollow, dead whisper that cut him off instantly.
Tom stopped, finally looking up at her pale face.
Ana gave a bitter, exhausted smile, a single tear slipping down her dirt-streaked cheek. She didn’t want to hear the scripted lies Damian’s men had forced her manager to say. She didn’t want to watch a man who had been kind to her look so guilty.
"Stop," she whispered, her shoulders sagging as the final ounce of her strength evaporated. "Please don’t lie to me. You don’t have to explain anything. I already know exactly why you are firing me."
Tom opened his mouth to speak, but the absolute defeat in her eyes made him close it again. He simply slid the envelope containing her final, meager paycheck across the counter.
Ana took it, her hand shaking.
She stepped out of the diner and looked up at the dark, looming skyline. She had two days left to give Damian her answer, but as she stared down at her bare, bleeding feet, she realized she didn’t even have twenty-four hours.
He hadn’t just cornered her. He had starved her out.
What a devastating blow for Ana. She is completely isolated now, with no income and no way out.
What do I do now?
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