Sera could still feel the ropes—though they had been removed an hour ago.
The marks were invisible, but the memory was etched into her skin and heart.
She didn't cry. She didn't speak.
But her mind kept spinning.
About Vince. About his words. About the strange emotion that bloomed in the middle of her fear.
When the maid came in to clear the untouched breakfast, Sera just stared blankly. But once the door closed again, she walked over to the mirror, looking at her own reflection.
And for the first time, she asked herself, "Am I still the same Sera?"
A few minutes later, the maid reported to Vince in the back hallway.
"Sir… she didn't eat again."
Vince remained silent for a moment, then said flatly, "Let her starve. Hunger will teach her what words cannot."
But the look in his eyes revealed something else—not just control, but disappointment.
Elsewhere in the mansion, Vince sat in his study, eyes fixed on a monitor showing hidden camera footage from Sera's room.
His expression was calm. But his fingers tapped softly against the table.
"I thought she would scream," he muttered.
"But she's silent. And silence… is more dangerous."
One of his men entered. "Boss, someone is asking about the girl."
Vince's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"An older woman. Claims to be her aunt."
Vince stood up. "Meet with her. But tell her nothing."
That night, while Sera lay curled on the large bed, the door opened slowly.
Vince entered quietly.
He walked to the side of the bed, staring at the girl now curled up like a kitten.
He reached out. Almost touched her cheek. But he stopped himself.
"Don't become a weakness, Sera,"
He told himself.
But as he walked out of the room,
his eyes said otherwise.