The Billionaire's Captive: A Heart Broken

I arrived at the mansion with nothing but the clothes on my back, expecting to work off my debt, but I quickly realized I was just inventory.

The air in the hallway was kept at a freezing temperature, a deliberate choice to preserve the art and remind girls like me that we were nothing more than furniture.

Inside the room, the sounds of a Hollywood starlet and a powerful man echoed through the walls, followed by the sight of discarded silk and cold, hard cash scattered across the marble floor.

When I accidentally stood in the way, I was tripped, mocked as trash, and left to bleed on the cold floor while the security guards watched with dead eyes.

Even when I begged for my passport, Chadwich Carey didn't see a human being; he saw a stain on his pristine, expensive reality that needed to be erased.

He crushed my fingers in the door, dragged me into the dark, and eventually used me to satisfy a drug-fueled hunger that no one else could touch, only to discard me back into the rain like garbage.

I sat in the freezing Bronx alley, shivering in his oversized shirt, realizing that he never intended to give me my freedom.

He thought he had broken me, that I was just another nameless girl to be silenced, but he was wrong.

I am not a box to be packed away or a hand to be severed.

He taught me that in this world, money and violence are the only languages that matter.

I will learn them both, and when I return, I won't be begging for my passport; I’ll be taking everything he owns.