New Year’s Eve. Brandon, my boyfriend of three years, invited me home to meet his parents. At dinner, he drugged my wine. “Skylar, the gangsters…they’ll chop my hands off if I don’t pay up. I had no way out! I had to give you to him.” “Don’t blame me. Blame your luck. You look just like his crush.” “It’s win-win. I pay my debts, you get a wealthy life.” Drugged and dazed, I was delivered by his family to gates I knew too well. The home of my uncle, Victor Thorne. Victor had always doted on Mom and me. The year my father laid a hand on her, Victor had him shipped to a remote African mine before sunset. I could barely imagine what Brandon was about to face… The tranquilizer hadn’t fully worn off. I lay slumped in the backseat of the car, unable to lift even a finger. The voices of Brandon, Frank, and Carol Miller reached me as a muffled drone, distant and indistinct. Brandon and I had been together since college, straight through graduation. Ours was a stable relationship, one that had never faced any real turbulence. Just before the holidays, he’d looked so sincere, saying he wanted to take me home to meet his parents, to talk about marriage. Thinking I needed to make a good impression on his family, I’d spent days meticulously preparing. I bought a new cashmere coat, got my hair done, and brought two expensive bottles of wine and a stack of gift boxes. But after just half a glass of water Carol poured for me, my vision started to blur. “Skylar, don’t blame me,” Brandon said, his face a mask of feigned grievance. “I was truly backed into a corner, with no way out.” “Five million! How was I supposed to pay that back? They’ll really chop off my hands!” I wanted to curse him, but my tongue wouldn’t obey, only choked, incoherent sounds escaped my throat. “Don’t feel so wronged, either,” he continued to ramble. “Mr. Thorne’s place isn’t some bad situation. He just likes your type.” “You’ll live a life of luxury with him, isn’t that better than being with me? I’m doing this for both of our sakes, a win-win, get it?” Win-win? You win my ass. The car sped through the darkness, the scenery outside the window a blur. I struggled to focus my eyes, trying to make out our direction. Until the car slowly decelerated, finally pulling up to a massive, intricately carved iron gate. This place, this gate, this estate… My heart leaped. My hazy mind felt like it had been doused with ice water, clearing slightly in an instant. No way. It couldn’t be. Brandon and his mom dragged me out of the car, one on each side, practically pulling me across the front lawn of the estate. My cashmere coat was disheveled and torn, my heels were long gone. Two straight-backed men stood by the door, watching us approach with expressionless faces. “Gentlemen, please inform Mr. Thorne. We truly couldn’t raise the money, so we came up with a new way to settle the debt.” Frank Miller bent at the waist, fawning over the men in black suits at the door. “We’ve brought Mr. Thorne a New Year’s gift. He’s definitely going to like it.” One of the men shined a flashlight beam across my face. The light stung my eyes, making me squint. “Her?” His voice was flat. “Yes, yes, exactly! My son’s girlfriend,” Carol quickly chimed in, forcefully pulling my face straight. “See? Doesn’t she look exactly like the woman Mr. Thorne commemorates every year? We specifically found out about that.” “And she’s a dancer, very graceful. She’ll be attentive to his needs!” My stomach lurched. The man was silent for a few seconds, then gestured to a subordinate nearby. “Go inform him.” He turned back to us. “Whether it works out or not, I can’t say. Just come inside and wait.” “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” Brandon nodded profusely, bowing repeatedly, as he dragged me towards the main house. By the time I was pulled into the parlor on the first floor, my legs had given out. I collapsed onto the cold floor. “Mr. Thorne is with a guest. Wait here,” the man said, then left. As soon as the door closed, Brandon immediately crouched in front of me, a mix of anxiety and calculation on his face. “Skylar, help me out, just this once.” He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. “When Mr. Thorne comes, just say you came willingly.” “Please, I won’t look down on you. I promise I’ll treat you well afterward!” I stared at him, unable to make a sound. “Don’t you dare stay silent!” Carol also leaned in, her nails digging into my arm. “If the Millers go down, you won’t have it easy either! Brandon’s your boyfriend, you should help him!” “Mom, don’t scare her,” Brandon faked a gentle reprimand, then turned back to me, softening his tone. “Skylar, I know you’re angry, but I really have no choice. Five million! They’ll kill me…” The tranquilizer was slowly wearing off. I could feel my limbs regaining sensation, and my tongue could move again. I took a deep breath, finally choking out a raspy sentence: “Get lost. I won’t.”
“What did you say?” Brandon’s face instantly darkened. He grabbed a handful of my hair, forcing me to look up at him. “Skylar, I advise you to think carefully before you speak.” A sharp pain shot through my scalp, but I gritted my teeth. “I said, I won’t. This is a crime. I’m calling the police.” Smack! A stinging slap landed hard on my face. My vision went black, my ears rang, and I tasted blood. “You’re ungrateful!” Brandon snarled through gritted teeth. “What do you think you are? You’re just a dancer, it’s your good fortune to be able to pay off my debt!” Carol followed up with a kick. “Exactly! Who are you to act so pure? It’s an honor my son chose you!” “Not her face!” Frank warned from the side. “If you damage her face, we’re all screwed!” Brandon finally let go. I lay sprawled on the cold floor, gasping for air. “Skylar, I’m asking you one last time,” he crouched down, pinching my chin. “Are you going to cooperate or not?” I stared at him, enunciating each word. “Absolutely not.” “Fine. Very well,” Brandon sneered, standing up and walking towards me. “Aren’t you a dancer? Aren’t you supposed to fulfill your mom’s legacy?” He lifted his foot and stomped down hard on my calf. “Ah!” The excruciating pain made me scream. “If this leg breaks, what dance will you do then?” He ground his foot down harder. “I heard your mom’s biggest wish before she died was to see you on an international stage. What a shame…” Fear instantly consumed me. Mom was one of the nation’s top dancers, but she passed away due to illness at the peak of her career. I had trained tirelessly in dance since childhood, all to honor her legacy. “No,” my voice began to tremble. “Don’t touch my leg…” “Now you’re scared?” Carol scoffed from the side. “Weren’t you tough a moment ago?” Brandon took his foot off, then crouched down again. “Then be a good girl and behave later.” “As long as you clear my debt, I’ll still marry you. We’ll go back to how things were.” I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face against my will. “That’s more like it,” Carol said, satisfied. “Go clean her up. She’s a mess, how can she be presented like this?” Brandon roughly dragged me off the floor, pulling me towards the private bathroom attached to the parlor. “I can do it myself,” I tried to struggle. “Shut up!” He shoved me into the bathroom. “Your makeup’s ruined, you look like a ghost.” He grabbed my hair, forcing my face under the faucet. The cold water made me shiver violently, my makeup washing off in streaks. Brandon grabbed the hand soap from the sink and smeared it directly onto my face. I choked, coughing. “Mmph…Stop!” “Clean her up properly. Mr. Thorne will want to see this face.” “She really does look like her. Damn. I only chased you because your face looks just like Mr. Thorne’s woman.” My heart sank completely. So that was it. Three years of a relationship, just a calculated setup from the start. Brandon rinsed the foam from my face, then roughly wiped it dry with a towel. Then he started ripping my clothes. “What are you doing!” I screamed in horror, clutching my chest. “These clothes are too conservative. You need something sexier.” He pulled a low-cut black dress from his bag. “Put it on.” “No!” “You won’t?” Brandon’s eyes turned cold. “Then don’t blame me for helping you.” He violently tore open the buttons of my cashmere coat. I shrieked and struggled, but he slapped me again with the back of his hand. “Stay still!” The bathroom door suddenly rattled. Carol’s voice came through. “Brandon, hurry! Mr. Thorne’s men are here!” Brandon froze, glaring at me viciously. “You’re lucky.” He dragged me out of the bathroom, pushing me back onto the parlor carpet. The door opened. Several men in black suits walked in. The one at the front, in his early thirties, had a scar on his face and cold, dangerous eyes. “Mr. Thorne will be here any minute,” the man with the scar, Jax, said, glancing at me. “Cleaned up?” “Cleaned up, perfectly clean!” Frank quickly forced a smile. “Jax, sir, take a look. Doesn’t she look exactly like her?” Jax took a few steps closer, crouching down to examine my face carefully. My heart pounded. Was this Jax, the new guy under my uncle? Victor had only mentioned him once, saying he’d only been with him for about six months, known for being ruthless, but still unfamiliar with family matters. I was doomed. He didn’t recognize me at all.
Jax stared at my face for a full thirty seconds, his expression shifting from scrutiny to something ancient and unsettling. “Uncanny. Damn uncanny,” he muttered. He reached out, his rough finger grazing my cheek. “She’s practically identical to the woman in the photos.” My body went rigid. I managed to squeeze out a sound. “Are you Jax? I’m…” Smack! Another slap, harder than Brandon’s. My head snapped to the side, blood oozing from the corner of my mouth. “Who told you my name?” Jax grabbed a handful of my hair, forcing me to look at him. “You’re just merchandise for debt, trying to pull rank on your grandpappy?” “No, I really am…” “Shut up!” He clamped a hand around my neck. “Say one more word, and I’ll rip out your tongue.” Suffocation gripped me. I clawed at his hand, but it was to no avail. The Millers stood frozen nearby, barely daring to breathe, fawning over Jax. “Jax, sir, what about… Mr. Thorne?” Frank tentatively asked. “Mr. Thorne is upstairs handling some business. He sent me down to check first.” Jax released me and stood up. “But I don’t think this girl is very cooperative.” He pulled out a cigarette, lit it, took a drag, then crouched down and flicked the ash onto my face. “It’s your good fortune that you look like someone Mr. Thorne admired, but don’t think you can get away with anything just because of that face.” He pinched my chin. “Mr. Thorne hates it when people try to exploit his personal connections. You’d better know your place.” I coughed violently, tears streaming down my face. “I really am… I’m Victor’s niece, please believe me…” “Still spewing nonsense!” Jax roared in fury, kicking me hard in the stomach. I curled up in pain, felt like my organs were shifting. “Do you really think I wouldn’t know if Mr. Thorne had any siblings? Where would a niece come from?” Jax sneered. “What lies won’t you spin just to climb the ladder?” He gestured to a subordinate. “Bring the liquor.” A subordinate immediately handed him a bottle of vodka. Jax twisted off the cap, grabbed my chin, and started pouring it down my throat. The harsh liquor burned its way down my throat. I choked, my face flushing scarlet, alcohol streaming from my mouth, down my neck and soaking my clothes. “Drink it! Finish it!” Jax’s expression was distorted. “If Mr. Thorne comes and you dare to throw it up, I’ll throw you into the deepest, darkest pits of our operations and let every one of the guys have their fill!” He only released me after half the bottle was gone. I lay on the floor, dry-heaving, my throat burning. My vocal cords felt shredded, unable to form a complete sound. Brandon looked uneasy. “Jax, sir, if Mr. Thorne comes and she can’t speak…” “Better if she can’t speak,” Jax glanced at him. “Save her from talking nonsense.” He crouched down again, grabbing my right hand. “Pretty fingers, huh?” I stared at him in horror. “What a shame.” He sneered, then suddenly twisted with force. Crack! “AH!” My bloodcurdling scream echoed through the entire parlor. My index finger bent at an unnatural angle. The excruciating pain made my vision go black. “That’s just one,” Jax said, his tone light. “If you don’t behave, I’ll break all ten of your fingers.” I convulsed in pain, tears and snot blurring my face. “Mr. Thorne is here!” A subordinate at the door suddenly announced. Jax immediately stood up, straightened his suit, and adopted a respectful expression. The Millers also quickly stood at attention, heads bowed, not daring to look around. The door opened. A tall figure walked in, dressed in a black coat, with cold and severe eyes, radiating an aura that screamed ‘keep your distance’. It was my uncle, Victor. He scanned the parlor, his brows immediately furrowing. “What’s going on? It’s a mess.” Jax quickly stepped forward. “Mr. Thorne, these people came to settle a debt, and they brought a woman.” “I told you, don’t bring just anyone here,” Victor’s voice was icy. “Clean it up.” He said, then turned to leave. No! Don’t go! I used all my strength to push myself up, but my legs failed and I fell back to the floor, still unable to make a sound. My uncle’s footsteps didn’t falter. In desperation, I tore off the necklace my mother left me, the one around my neck. Then, with my working left hand, I threw it hard at Victor’s feet. The metal struck the marble floor with a sharp clink. Victor’s footsteps halted. He looked down, his gaze moving from the necklace on the floor to my bruised, tear-streaked face. His pupils constricted sharply.
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