Chapter 3

Ridley's lips curled into a wicked grin as he barked commands. "Disfigure her face. We'll see if she still claims to be the don's daughter after that!"

A pair of ruffians approached me, their faces twisted with malicious intent. One of them revealed a sharp knife that glinted menacingly in the dim light. My limbs were securely bound, the coarse rope digging into my flesh. Fear coursed through my veins as I gasped for air, futilely attempting to break free. The pungent mix of booze and cheap perfume from the surrounding men made me feel nauseous.

"I swear I'm Ryan's child!" I cried out, my voice cracking with fear. "He'll make you pay if you hurt me!"

The room crackled with tension, but my words only seemed to entertain them. With a sinister laugh, one thug tore at my clothing, the fabric ripping loudly. A chill ran over my newly exposed skin, filling me with dread.

"How dare you try to deceive us? Start begging for mercy, though it won't help you!" Ridley taunted, clearly relishing my distress.

I fought back tears, determined to stay strong. Just as I steeled myself for the worst, a loud pounding on the door interrupted the scene.

"Boss! The don has arrived!" someone yelled from outside. "He's selecting a private room for a birthday celebration and wants to see you!"

Ridley's demeanor shifted instantly, his face lighting up with a mix of enthusiasm and deference. "The don? Really? It must be for his wife!"

He turned to his men, his previous cruelty replaced by urgency. "Get this girl out of here quickly! Don't let the don see her and spoil his mood!"

Before I could process what was happening, several thugs grabbed me. My heart raced as they covered my eyes with a grimy cloth. I struggled to breathe as the fabric pressed against my face.

Rough hands gripped my arms as they began to drag me away. I knew this was my only chance. If I didn't act now, I might never get another opportunity. Desperation gave me courage, and mustering all my strength, I kicked out blindly.

My foot connected solidly with one thug's groin. He let out a pained groan, loosening his grip on me. Seizing the moment, I stumbled forward, ripping the cloth from my face and running as fast as I could.

The corridor stretched out before me, poorly lit by flickering lights. I had no idea where I was going, my mind a whirlwind of terror and adrenaline.

"Catch her!" someone roared behind me, heavy footsteps echoing as they gave chase.

I spotted a staircase at the end of the hall and sprinted towards it, my heart pounding. But as I reached the top step, I tripped on the carpet's edge. Time seemed to slow as I lost my balance, tumbling down the stairs.

Agony shot through my body with each impact, my vision blurring. When I finally stopped falling, I was dazed and disoriented, struggling to lift my head.

Before I could regain my senses, a heavy blow struck the back of my skull, sending fresh waves of dizziness through me. "You little wretch! How dare you kick me? I'll end you!" an enraged voice growled.

Blackness crept in at the edges of my sight, but just before I lost consciousness, I caught a glimpse of a familiar figure at the end of the hallway—broad shoulders, a commanding presence. Could it be... my father?

The next thing I knew, I was being hauled across a cold, hard floor. I tried to resist, but my body felt leaden and unresponsive. My head throbbed painfully and my vision was unfocused.

When I finally came to, I found myself tied up in a dimly lit storage room. The faint odor of dust and mold hung in the air, mixing with the metallic scent of old, rusted tools scattered about. Tape covered my mouth, muffling my breathing. I looked down at myself and felt a small wave of relief—my clothes were intact. They hadn't violated me.

Was it possible they were too preoccupied with greeting my father? If he was still here, there was still hope!

Without wasting a moment, I shuffled to a corner, the rough floor scraping my knees. Driven by desperation, I began rubbing the ropes around my wrists against the sharp edge of a broken shelf. The fibers cut into my skin, but I ignored the pain, focusing solely on freeing myself.

Suddenly, faint voices drifted in from beyond the door. I froze, straining to hear the conversation.

"Have you received the money yet? Hurry up and give me my cut!" a familiar voice demanded.

My heart sank. Hobs.

"You've got some nerve!" another man retorted angrily. "That girl only has a hundred thousand in her account. Pretending to be the don's daughter? She's asking for trouble! But I have to admit, she's quite attractive."

"Search her bag for anything valuable," the man continued. "I'll sneak in for some fun with that wench. When I'm finished, I'll give you your share!"

A tense silence followed, broken only by Hobs's disgusted reply. "Go ahead. I want no part of it. That little tease wouldn't even let me touch her, acting all superior. Turns out she's someone else's mistress, huh?"

"But she must have money," he added. "She drives a car worth over a hundred and fifty grand. How could she not afford a hundred thousand dollars?"

I clenched my jaw, rage and heartbreak battling within me. I had thought Hobs was being forced to betray me. But this—this was his true nature. The man I'd trusted, the man I'd planned to introduce to my family, had sold me out for cash.

Tears stung my eyes, but I forced them back. I couldn't afford to break down now. Just as the last of the rope came loose, I heard the metallic click of the door lock turning.

My pulse quickened as I frantically scanned the room. The windows were sealed shut—there was no escape. Clutching the frayed rope in my trembling hands, I darted toward the wall, leaning against it as though I had just regained consciousness.