Chapter 15&16
"Please, Scott… help me. Only you can make this pain stop," Kyla murmured in her sleep, her voice fragile and strained.
Her head shifted restlessly against the pillow as her fingers clenched the bedsheets, twisting them tight.
Beads of sweat gathered along her brow, her breathing growing uneven—almost labored.
Then, suddenly, her eyes snapped open.
She jolted upright, a sharp breath tearing from her chest, her hair falling in disarray across her face. Reaching blindly toward the bedside, she switched on the light, its glow cutting through the darkness.
Her hand rose to her head, gripping it as though to steady the storm within, her chest heaving with each frantic breath.
It was only a dream.
It clung to her skin like a second shadow, refusing to fade with the light. Her heartbeat pounded violently against her ribs, each thud echoing in her ears as though the nightmare had followed her into waking.
Kyla drew in a shaky breath, her fingers trembling as they slowly loosened their grip on her hair.
She had shared sex with Robert more times than she could possibly count—enduring his fierce, consuming kisses, his relentless demands for blowjob, the way he had licked her pussy, and every other degrading, intimate act he subjected her to, time and time again.
A man who bore the same ruthless nature as his father—the very man she had been crying out to for help in her dreams—was also the same one who had nearly strangled her to death at the club the previous night.
The very devil she feared most was the same one she found herself silently praying to for salvation.
Kyla glanced at the time; it was almost 11p.m.
Her parents had borrowed a hundred million from her devilish husband, and Scott had already sent a hundred million to her account, leaving two hundred million still outstanding.
Each night at the club, she earned two hundred thousand, and if she were to quit now, she would lose her only chance of repaying her parents' debt—and, with it, her chance of gaining freedom from this house.
She tossed the duvet aside, rose from the bed, and lowered herself to a squat before it.
Reaching beneath the frame, she dragged out a box concealed under the bed and exhaled a long, weary sigh before opening it.
A faint, restrained smile curved her lips as she retrieved a new set of bikinis—one of them a deep green. Beside it lay her waist beads, along with delicate leg chains and neck chains.
Scott had taken the bikini and the jewelry she had worn the previous night at the club, believing it would be enough to make her quit.
Yet he failed to understand that the very place he wanted her to abandon was the only means through which she could survive.
She lifted the bikini, and memories of her sexual performances on the stage flickered through her mind.
A faint, knowing smile curved at her lips.
If she truly abandoned it now, she would forfeit her only path to freedom. She would continue dancing, continue earning, and one day, finally break free from this cursed building.
She rose to her feet and emptied the contents onto the bed, tucking a strand of hair neatly behind her ear as she did so.
Once everything was laid out, she closed the box and slid it back under the bed.
Then she began to undress.
When she was finished, she slipped into the bikini, carefully adjusting it before putting her clothes back on over it, concealing it beneath her outfit.
Walking over to the drawer, she retrieved her old, worn-out purse—the same one she usually used when going to the market.
She unzipped it, then returned to the bed, gathered the jewelry, and carefully placed it inside before sealing it shut.
A deep sigh escaped her lips as she moved to the mirror.
There, she ruffled her hair, deliberately giving herself a disheveled appearance. After a final, lingering glance at her reflection, she slipped into her old slippers, turned off the light, and quietly stepped out of the room.
______
«MRS KATH'S ROOM»
"I came earlier, but your door was locked from the inside, and I heard some strange noises—almost like whispering. Who was in there with you that made you refuse to open the door for your mother, Scott?" Mrs Kath asked, placing a glass cup on the table in front of Scott.
Scott scoffed lightly, adjusting his collar as his gaze briefly swept over her.
He noticed the way she sat at the very edge of the couch—poised, alert, and unwilling to relax. He looked away again, the corner of his lips lifting into a faint, knowing smirk.
"There was no one in there with me, Mum," he said evenly. "I was alone. I simply wanted to be by myself for a moment. Now I'm free. You can tell me about the important discussion—I'm all ears now."
"Regarding the discussion," Mrs Kath began, her tone composed yet firm, "I have come to the conclusion that you will assume the position of Chief Executive Officer of the mobile company. You have completed your studies and returned home; the next step is for you to begin your career. That is the matter I would like us to discuss, Scott"
Scott reached for the glass of wine, lifting it unhurriedly to his lips before taking a slow, measured sip, his expression remaining carefully unreadable.
Then Scott leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose.
"I did not return to be handed a throne, nor to work in a company built on the blood of the innocent," Scott said coldly.
"I returned for a purpose, and when I have resolved that matter, then I will consider running a company. But it will be one I build with my own hard-earned money. If this was the only discussion you intended to have with me, then I shall take my leave, Mum."
He made to rise, but Mrs Kath swiftly reached out and caught his arm. Her grip was firm, though her hand trembled slightly.
"And don't tell me you returned to find the woman who kidnapped you twenty-three years ago, Scott," Mrs Kath said in a low, fearful voice.
At her words, Scott's composure shattered. He violently yanked his arm free from her grasp, stepping back as his expression darkened with restrained fury.
"That is not your concern," he said sharply, his gaze cutting through her like ice. "When I was kidnapped for six months, no one even bothered to look for me, nor did anyone report a missing child. You all left me alone in that room to fucking die. None of you in this house has any right to dictate anything to me." He fixed her with a piercing glare that sent a chill down her spine.
"No, Scott… don't say that," Mrs Kath said, her voice breaking. "I would never intentionally allow you to die. I made every effort—I went to every broadcast and pleaded for announcements about my missing child. I also personally informed the police, and they searched for you, but they were unable to find you."
She swallowed hard, tears gathering in her eyes as her voice continued to tremble.
"If finding the woman who kidnapped you is the reason you have returned, then I am afraid you are walking straight into danger," she continued urgently.
"The Apheus Empire is a women-led organization—extremely dangerous. I suspect that one of its members may be the woman who took you." Her grip tightened around his hand, as though afraid he might slip away again.
"Searching for her is like signing your own death warrant, Scott. They operate alone—kidnapping women and trafficking them, selling their body parts… they are ruthless. You must abandon this search."
Scott stood perfectly still, her words settling over him like a gathering storm. For a fleeting moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—doubt, perhaps, or recognition—but it was gone as quickly as it came.
Slowly, he lowered his gaze to where her hand clung to his, then back to her face, now streaked with tears.
"The Apheus Empire…" he repeated softly, as though testing the weight of the name. "So you do know more than you've ever told me."
Mrs Kath's breath caught. "Scott—"
"All these years I have lived under this roof—enduring the weight of that trauma—you stood by me, guiding me through it, pulling me back each time I was triggered." He paused, his jaw tightening as a flicker of restrained anger crossed his face, his eyes darkening with quiet intensity.
"And yet, all the while, you knew precisely which organisation had taken your son, and you chose not to tell me. I am certain Father knows even more than you do. All of you conspired to keep me in the dark, leaving me to bear the nightmares and the torment alone," he said in a calm, dangerous tone, as he gently but firmly removed her hand from his arm.
"No, Scott, listen—it isn't like that—"
"I do not wish to hear another word from you, Mother," Scott cut in sharply, rising to his feet. "It has become painfully clear to me that no one in this house truly cares—and I have no need of anyone's concern. I will deal with my problems myself."
Mrs Kath stood as well, reaching for his hand once more, but he wrenched it away with such force that she staggered.
She struggled to steady herself, a flicker of pain crossing her face.
The wounds from Robert's merciless whipping still burned, making it difficult for her to stand or sit without discomfort—a truth she had carefully concealed from her son.
She reached for the chair at once, gripping it tightly for support as she struggled to steady herself.
Scott did not so much as glance back; with anger still coursing through him, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him with resounding force.
Mrs Kath sank back onto the couch, her gaze fixed upon the closed door, as tears slipped silently down her cheeks.
"If they truly are the ones who kidnapped you all those years ago, Scott, I fear you may lose your life before you ever have the chance to confront them. But I will do everything within my power to ensure that does not happen—even if it means putting my own life on the line," she murmured, her voice scarcely more than a whisper.
Her phone lit up on the dresser where she had left it charging.
With a faint wince, she rose and limped towards it, each step measured and careful.
Reaching it, she picked it up and swiped it open, her expression tightening as she navigated to her Zangi app, where a new message awaited her.
Her fingers hesitated for the briefest moment before she tapped the message open.
Unknown Contact: Running will not save you, sweetheart. Let your son continue digging and digging—till he dig his own grave.
Mrs Kath's fists clenched tightly, her knuckles whitening as she stared at the message, a wave of dread tightening in her chest.
*
*
Kyla clutched her purse tightly as she stepped out of the maid's quarters. The cool night breeze swept through her hair, brushing softly against her skin. The compound lay in its usual silence—still, almost eerie.
Then, suddenly, her eyes caught movement, a figure was emerging from the main mansion.
Her breath hitched.
Without hesitation, she slipped behind the side of the building, pressing herself against the wall, carefully she leaned just enough to peek toward the mansion.
It was Adrian.
He stood in front of the grand entrance, one hand tucked casually into his pocket while the other held his phone to his ear. He seemed deeply engaged in a call, his voice low and steady.
His shirt hung open slightly, the breeze teasing the fabric and lifting strands of his hair, giving him an effortlessly commanding presence in the dim light.
Kyla bit her lip hard, her gaze shifting toward the gate and then back to him.
Now that Scott was involved, none of them could afford to see her leaving the gate at this hour of the night, because if Scott saw her, it would ruin her plan for the night's earnings.
For the past three years, she had managed to slip out of that house every night by repeatedly crafting different excuses—sometimes claiming she had forgotten something at the mall, and at other times insisting that the mall had not provided everything she needed, requiring her to return or check elsewhere.
That she had chosen to try again at night, as she never had the opportunity to go out during the day.
She did not merely rely on words alone; her frail appearance and the evident maltreatment she endured in the household often left the gatekeeper with little to no choice but to let her pass.
And should any member of the family inquire, he would simply repeat the same account she had given.
Whenever she returned, she always ensured she carried a bag of groceries, carefully aligning it with the story she had told.
"Tell me—how much did they pay you, and how much did you actually get? Do you really think this goddamn place will earn you the money your parents borrowed from my father—three hundred fucking million? You think you can earn it here, by letting your pussy be fucked by countless men? How shameless can you be, Kyla?"
Scott's voice echoed in her mind, and she bit her lip so hard that it bled.
"And the only way to save up was to sleep with seven men? the only way to save up was to flaunt your body for the whole world to see? And now you have the audacity to shout at me, to yell at me, when you've been so shameless? They inflicted those horrors on you because you allowed it! I don't deny the suffering, the pregnancies you lost— you let it happen! You have no right to complain, not after everything you let them do to you!"
Scott's voice echoed more loudly in her mind.
She clenched her purse tightly, her hands trembling as tears slid down her cheeks. This was the only work she had been able to find—night stripper.
She endured all the maltreatment in that house, accepting it because of the debt her parents had incurred, not in thousands, but in millions.
That burden was the reason she tolerated their cruelty, even to the point of losing her babies.
And she had never wanted to bear a child for that devil incarnate; all her life, she had dreamed of having a child with someone she truly loved.
She wiped away the tears that threatened to fall, silently praying for Adrian to simply go back inside the house.
Adrian let out a faint smile, lowered his phone, and began walking toward the garden, brushing his hair back as the cold breeze continued to sweep through it.
Kyla exhaled shakily and finally stepped out of her hiding place.
She made her way toward the gate, glancing back anxiously as she approached. Breaking into a hurried pace, she rushed forward—and, as always, the gatekeeper stood firmly in front of the gate, guarding it with unwavering vigilance.
Her steps slowed as she drew nearer, her heart pounding against her ribs.
She forced a calm expression onto her face, though her fingers trembled slightly at her sides.
The gatekeeper's eyes narrowed as he noticed her.
"Going out again?" he asked, his tone neither harsh nor kind—just routine, as if he had asked the same question too many times before.
"Yes, I ran out of salt and some ingredients while preparing lunch. You noticed it when you ate, didn't you?" Kyla asked.
The gatekeeper scoffed, unimpressed.
"I was left without the vegetables I needed to garnish the food," Kyla said, forcing a faint, nervous smile as her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag.
"I couldn't go during the day because I didn't have the chance. The mall stays open late at night, which is why I decided to go tonight. If I leave it until tomorrow, I may not have another opportunity to restock the items."
The gatekeeper studied her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.
He had heard variations of her excuses too many times to count, yet there was always something about her—her quiet urgency, the way she avoided eye contact—that made it difficult to completely dismiss her.
With a reluctant sigh, he shifted aside.
"Go on then," he said flatly. "But don't stay out too long."
Kyla gave a small, grateful nod, though her heart was already racing. She tightened her grip on her bag, careful to maintain the illusion, and stepped past him.
The moment she crossed the gate, she did not look back.
Her pace quickened almost immediately, each step pulling her further away from the suffocating walls of the house and closer to the uncertain freedom of the night.
"When I was lost in the dark, you saved me. Your arms, your words—they were nothing short of magic. That's why you'll always be seen differently by me in this world. And, just as before, you're the only hand I allow to touch me, the only woman I'm permitted to hold like this,"
Scott's voice echoed again in her mind, uninvited and unforgiving, tightening her chest until her steps wavered slightly.
She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep moving, faster this time, as though speed alone could outrun the fear.
"Being with you is like pushing a rock uphill, Scott—it can never be possible. I am already bound to your father. The fact that you paid a hundred million for me does not change that; it does not mean I will submit to you. Your father is married to me, and if he ever sees us together, it would be the end of me and my family. That is the last thing I would ever want to face. You need to put an end to these feelings, because it will never be possible, Scott," she muttered inwardly.
She stopped a taxi and quickly got inside.
"Hellish Virgin Empire, please," she muttered, and the driver immediately sped off.
Kyla let out a slow exhale, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again. She tightened her grip on her purse, her knuckles whitening as anxiety coiled tightly within her chest.
If any member of the family were ever to discover her work as a stripper at the club, it would undoubtedly be the end of her life.
*
*
"The Apheus Empire? What makes you think I have any knowledge of a female-led organisation of that nature? And where did you get the information that one of its members might be the one who kidnapped you twenty-three years ago?" Robert asked, exhaling a plume of tobacco smoke.
His shirt hung loosely undone as he leaned back, while behind him Mrs Valencia stood massaging his shoulders.
Her gaze fixed on Scott, who stood before them with burning eyes that whispered pure hatred.
Scott remained still for a moment, his gaze locked on Robert as though measuring every word, every breath, every deception beneath his calm exterior.
Then, slowly, he let out a quiet, humourless breath.
"You always had a talent for answering questions without answering them," Scott said evenly.
Robert tilted his head slightly, unbothered, the smoke curling lazily around him as a dark, menacing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
Mrs Valencia remained silent behind him, continuing to massage his shoulders and neck with deliberate, steady motions.
He studied Scott through the drifting haze, his expression calm but sharpened with quiet authority.
"The Apheus Empire had nothing to do with what happened twenty years ago. It was a random kidnapping—an unfortunate incident that could have happened anywhere. Yours is no exception, Scott. You were rescued, you were found, and everything is now in the past," Robert said with a scoff.
"The puzzle you speak of—is this it? This fixation on finding the woman you claim abducted you? You have only just graduated; you did not study law or investigative sciences—you studied business. Instead of taking over one of my companies, you are preoccupied with pursuing a woman you do not even know is still alive."
Scott brushed his hair back and slipped his hands into his pockets, stepping a little closer.
"Talia Vance—you know something about her, don't you?" Scott asked, lifting an eyebrow.
Robert, who had been about to take a drag from his tobacco, paused mid-motion and slowly lowered it. Behind him, Mrs Valencia's hands froze on his shoulders, her gaze instantly sharpening and fixing on him.
"Isn't she that well-known journalist?" Mrs Valencia said with a gentle smile, continuing to massage his shoulders.
"What exactly are you insinuating, Scott? Do you believe she may be the one who abducted you?" She exhaled softly, her tone remaining calm yet deliberate.
"Listen, Scott, leave everything that happened twenty years ago in the past and move on with your life. Even if you dig deeper into that case, no one is going to reopen what transpired then. You were not the only child who went missing—there were many others as well. I would strongly advise you to stop trying to unearth old wounds."
"I do not need any of your advice. I will conduct my affairs myself. I came here only to confirm whether the Empire truly exists, and now that I have my confirmation, I require no further information from any of you. As for that journalist, I have my own investigation to pursue," Scott said coldly.
He turned and walked out of the room, his hands buried in his pockets.
Robert gritted his teeth.
"Then I shall watch as you successfully dig out the truth, dearest son," Robert muttered with a dark chuckle.
Scott did not spare him a glance before leaving, shutting the door firmly behind him.
Robert continued chuckling menacingly, the sound low and unhurried as he leaned back in his chair. Mrs Valencia remained silent, her expression tightening slightly, though she said nothing further.
The smoke from his cigar curled lazily into the air as Robert's gaze lingered on the closed door.
"You are biting off more than you can chew, son."
*
*
"The Apheus Empire, dude—that organisation only deals with females," Adrian said, glancing at Scott briefly as he settled into the car.
Scott's jaw tightened slightly, though he remained silent, his gaze fixed ahead.
"They kidnap women and sell their organs. They are extremely ruthless. I have never seen what they look like, but all I know is that they bear a scorpion tattoo on certain parts of their bodies. And I do not believe they were behind your kidnapping. I still do not understand why she would abandon me and Stacy by the roadside and drive off with you. Perhaps it was a paid arrangement," Adrian said as he shut the door and fastened his seatbelt.
Scott's lips curled faintly as he started the car.
The engine rumbled to life, filling the brief silence that followed Adrian's words.
"And do you know where their meetings are usually held?" Scott asked as he drove toward the gate, flashing his headlights. The signal prompted the gatekeeper to open it wide for him.
"No. They do not have a fixed location; they constantly change their meeting points, which is why they are difficult to track. And for the past five years, all investigators have ceased pursuing any information about them due to the numerous deaths of those who attempted to dig deeper. To prevent further loss of life, the governor recommended that the case be closed," Adrian said.
Scott drove out of the compound, and the gate closed behind them.
"So they erase anyone who gets close," Scott said calmly, his grip tightening subtly on the steering wheel.
Adrian glanced at him.
"That's one way to put it. People prefer living over knowing. I would suggest you stop trying to find them—it is not normal, and it is extremely dangerous. Investigators with training, resources, and experience all backed off. That should tell you something. Finding them is not possible; you will only put yourself in danger," Adrian said.
Almost immediately, his phone rang, and he glanced down to see that it was Stacy calling.
Scott scoffed.
He had spent six months in a dark room, surrounded by all manner of insects feeding on his blood—bedbugs and worse—enduring that suffocating darkness and horror.
He would never back down.
He would find those responsible and teach them a lesson they would never forget. His teeth gritted as his grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Adrian picked up the call, brushing his hair back as he answered.
"What is it this time, pest?" Adrian asked wearily.
"I've got a fucking video—Holy Mary is performing right now!" Stacy shouted through the phone.
Adrian's eyes widened. "Holy Mary is actually on stage?"
Scott shifted his gaze toward him at once. A low scoff escaped his lips, the corner of his mouth curling into that familiar, ruthless smirk. Without a word, he immediately slammed the car into reverse, his jaw tightening as veins subtly marked his neck.
His grip on the steering wheel hardened.
He'll teach her the true meaning of— obedience
*
*
«THE HELLISH—EMPIRE»
"I will give you five hundred million if you arrange for her to be handed over to me so I can spend the night with her," a dark female voice said.
Jericho's lips curled into a deep, knowing smile as he exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the air.
The woman seated on the couch mirrored his expression.
She wore a long black tailored jacket suit, her legs crossed elegantly, revealing striking red heels. Her hair fell in soft curls along her cheeks, framing a face defined by heavy smoky makeup, deep crimson lips, and dark red eyeshadow.
"I do not know you, but I cannot simply sell her to you for the amount you just mentioned. I earn more than that in a single day at this club, and releasing her for such a sum would be a loss to me," Jericho said, leaning forward in his chair, his eyebrows slightly raised.
She let out a soft, restrained chuckle, picked up the glass of wine from the table, and brought it to her lips, taking a slow, unhurried sip.
She lowered the glass slowly, her movements unhurried, almost deliberate, as though time itself bent around her composure. For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she leaned back into the couch, crossing her legs more comfortably, her gaze never once leaving Jericho.
"You misunderstand something very fundamental," she said at last, her voice calm yet laced with quiet authority. "I am not here to negotiate like an ordinary client."
Jericho's smirk remained, but his eyes sharpened slightly.
She tilted her head, studying him as one might study something easily replaceable.
"Just name your price and I'll have it done. All I want in return is the girl. You will get your money, and I will leave with her," she said calmly.
Jericho's lips curled upward as he brushed his hair back, his interest clearly deepening.
Behind her, the man in black stepped forward without a word. His face remained concealed beneath a dark scarf, revealing only his intent. He approached the table and set down a briefcase with a controlled thud.
Click.
The locks released.
He opened it.
Stacks upon stacks of neatly arranged cash filled the interior—bundles of currency packed tightly, enough to make even the air around them feel heavier.
Jericho's eyes lingered on the contents, his slow smile widening as he exhaled another plume of smoke.
"Well…" he murmured, his voice laced with approval and greed. "Now we are speaking the same language."
Jericho slowly leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on the open briefcase as though measuring every bundle within it.
The smoke from his cigar curled lazily between them, softening the sharpness in his gaze.
"I only came with five hundred million, but I will double it for you—make it one billion dollars," the woman said calmly.
Jericho's eyes widened slightly. He studied her briefly, as though reevaluating the woman seated before him. A woman like her… still existed?
For a fleeting moment, his thoughts drifted to Scott, who had once purchased the girl for a hundred million—and now, here stood another willing to offer a billion.
His smile deepened.
"Of course—she is all yours tonight," Jericho muttered, a broad smile spreading across his lips.
*
*
TBC
DO NOT GHOST 🚫
YOUR ACTIVENESS DETERMINES.