Lauren watched him go without a flicker of softness on her face, though inside, something unfamiliar and dangerous twisted in her chest.
Sight of these marks on Ryan... the way his good body now carried her anger, the quiet winces and glassy fear in his eyes stirred a guilt she had never experienced. It clawed at her, unwelcome and infuriating.
She refused to let it surface. She was the ice queen.
Feelings were weaknesses that got people killed. This boy was simply a possession, a crack in her armor she would seal shut through stricter control.
No guilt. Never.
Ryan returned from the bathroom a few minutes later, face washed but eyes still red-rimmed and glassy, brushing done with trembling hands.
He had pulled on soft trousers as ordered, the waistband sitting low enough to reveal more of the bruises on his lower stomach.
"I… I finished brushing, Mommy," he said softly, standing before her with his head slightly bowed, trying to hide how much his body ached.
"The welts on my thighs rub against the fabric a little… it stings, but I didn't complain… I promise."
Lauren stood, her expression remaining harsh and dominant. She gave a single nod. "Good. Downstairs for breakfast. Walk properly. Do not dawdle."
As they moved toward the door, Ryan kept his steps careful and small, every few paces accompanied by a subtle wince or a sharp intake of breath when a particularly sore spot was jostled.
"Ah… sorry for making noise…" He stayed close but not touching, his fear palpable in the way his shoulders hunched and his gaze stayed fixed downward, more terrified with every passing minute that another punishment might follow if he displeased her again.
Lauren pushed down the unwelcome twist in her gut... the guilt that refused to die no matter how many times she reminded herself she felt nothing for killings.
This was different. He was different. And that made it unacceptable. She would crush the feeling through more control, more lessons. He belonged to her. Nothing more.
They reached the dining area, the servants discreetly averting their eyes from Ryan's exposed bruises.
Lauren took her seat at the head of the table, pointing to the floor beside her without a word.
Ryan lowered himself to his knees with a barely suppressed grimace, pain flaring brightly as his thighs met the hard surface. "Mmmph…" he whispered, voice soft and apologetic, eyes glassy as he looked up at her fearfully.
Breakfast was served. Lauren began eating normally, occasionally holding small bites to his lips with her fingers, her touch firm and possessive.
Without his glasses, the luxurious dining room was a hazy blur of shapes and shadows, making everything feel even more overwhelming.
He kept his head bowed low, eyes fixed on the floor, too terrified to look up at her.
Every tiny shift of his weight sent stinging reminders across his thighs and back, but he bit down on the inside of his cheek and stayed as still as possible, barely daring to breathe.
Lauren picked up her chopsticks with elegant precision and began eating. After a few moments of silence, she glanced down at him, her voice cold and commanding.
"Why aren't you eating? Didn't you learn yesterday?"
Ryan's entire body jolted at the sound of her voice. He flinched hard, shoulders hunching inward as if expecting a blow.
His heart hammered wildly against his ribs, fear flooding him so intensely that speaking felt almost impossible. His lips trembled as he tried to form words, voice coming out in a soft, broken stutter that was barely audible.
"I-I-I… I-I'm s-sorry… I-I-I d-didn't… I-I thought… after w-work… I-I-I'd… d-do it… b-but then… y-you… I-I m-mean… I s-slept…" Each word was forced out between tiny, panicked gasps.
He couldn't finish a single sentence properly, his eyes glassy and wide with terror. Fresh moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, but he didn't let the tears fall freely... he was too scared to make any more noise than necessary.
His hands rested on his thighs, fingers twitching nervously, and when Lauren shifted slightly in her seat, he flinched again, a small, involuntary jerk that made one of the welts on his side pull taut.
A sharp, silent wince crossed his face, his breath catching painfully.
Lauren paused, chopsticks hovering mid-air. She noticed how violently he was flinching now far more than before.
With anyone else, that reaction would have pleased her, fed her sense of absolute power.
But seeing Ryan do it, this soft, innocent boy who had stepped in front of his own abusive father for her, made something tighten uncomfortably in her chest.
A flicker of that unwanted guilt tried to surface again the same guilt she had felt last night after the whipping.
She had ended lives without blinking, yet these marks on his good body and his constant flinching at her mere presence twisted something inside her she refused to name.
She crushed the feeling down instantly, her expression remaining ice-cold and ruthless. No weakness. He was hers to train, nothing more.
"Quiet," she ordered flatly, cutting off his stuttering attempt. She picked up a small piece of perfectly cooked egg with her chopsticks and held it to his lips. "Open."
Ryan's eyes darted up for a split second before dropping again. He flinched once more at the closeness of her hand, his shoulders drawing up protectively. "S-s-sorry…" he whispered almost soundlessly, then obediently parted his lips.
He took the food gently from the chopsticks, chewing slowly and carefully, his jaw tense with fear.
The act reminded him painfully of yesterday... how she had fed him like a baby in front of the staff.
He still didn't know how to use cutlery properly. Shame burned in his cheeks, but he was too scared to ask for anything or complain about the pain still throbbing through his body.
Lauren continued feeding him bite after bite in silence small portions of fruit, toast, and more egg using the chopsticks with deliberate control.
Each time she brought the food closer, Ryan would flinch faintly, his body instinctively recoiling even though she wasn't touching him harshly.
He accepted every offering with the same soft, terrified obedience, murmuring tiny, barely coherent apologies between swallows.
"I-I'm… s-sorry… th-thank you… Mommy…" His voice was so quiet it was almost lost in the quiet clink of her own utensils.
Tears hovered at the edges of his vision, making his already blurry world even hazier, but he fought them back, too frightened to let them spill while she was watching.
His core tightened with every flinch, the welts on his front stretching slightly and sending dull, burning aches through him, yet he remained kneeling, small and vulnerable in front of her overwhelming presence.
Inside, Lauren felt that unwelcome tightness in her chest grow stronger with each flinch.
She hated it.
Why did this... seeing him so scared of her... bother her? It was unacceptable. She pushed the feeling down harder, focusing instead on the possessive satisfaction of having him completely dependent on her.
He would learn. He would stop flinching so much eventually, or she would train it out of him through stricter control.
No guilt. She was the mafia queen. Feelings like this had no place in her world.
She continued the silent feeding, occasionally pausing to take her own bites, her face an unreadable mask of ruthlessness.
Ryan stayed quiet after his initial stuttering attempt, only letting out the softest, most fearful sounds when a particularly sore welt was pressed by his own posture.
He kept his head down, eyes glassy, body tense and ready to flinch again at any second, more terrified of displeasing her than of the physical pain itself.
When the meal finally drew to a close, Lauren set her chopsticks down with a decisive click. She looked down at him, voice cold and commanding once more.
"Stand up. We have work at Voss Tower today. You will stay close and obey instantly. Do not make me repeat any order."
Ryan nodded quickly, a small, shaky movement. He rose to his feet with extreme care, a barely audible wince escaping as the welts on his thighs protested the change in position.
"Y-yes… Mommy…" he breathed, so softly it was almost inaudible, his hands trembling at his sides as he fought to keep still and not flinch again in front of her.
Lauren stood as well, towering over his vulnerable form. She refused to acknowledge the strange tightening in her chest. He was hers. That was all that mattered.