Virgin?

“Stay in the room and don't make any funny moves. The Don will come over soon,” Fox said and shoved Rivera into the room.

Before Rivera could process what was happening, the door slammed shut.

Rivera's brain was still sluggish and dazed, yet her body trembled violently due to the trauma.

The day's events replayed in her brain over and over again like a broken record.

Tears welled in Rivera's eyes, and she curled on the floor, sobbing.

No matter the treatment, Rivera had always believed she had a family, that she had a home.

Alas! Even that was a lie. She was never their flesh and blood. She was just an adopted daughter. No, a girl picked up from the road.

No wonder they never made her feel at home. No wonder...

Rivera's shoulders shook, and her tears fell like a waterfall.

Her gaze fixed on the high white ceiling. Blank. Blank. Just like her life.

As time passed, the drug washed out of her system, and she slowly regained control over her body.

After what felt like an hour or so, Rivera sat up.

Rivera wiped the tears quickly, her eyes glistening with hatred and determination; she had to make them pay.

She had to make the selfish Sylvester family pay!

Rivera shook her head to snap out of her chaotic thoughts.

If she wanted revenge, she had to escape first! And to escape, she had to be calm.

Rivera finally paid attention to the room.

The room featured high, vaulted ceilings with intricate geometric plasterwork.

The walls were finished in smooth, cool tadelakt plaster, while the cold Moroccan tiled floors were softened by heavy silk rugs.

A grand golden chandelier hung from the center of the room, casting a warm glow that complemented the natural light spilling in from the floor-to-ceiling window and door.

To the left, two massive, daybed-style armchairs—nearly the size of king-size beds—offered a luxurious place to rest, each draped elegantly with embroidered linens.

On the opposite side of the room, a smaller accent chair sat nestled next to a tall vase and a classic floor lamp, while an ornate low table rested out front, anchoring the seating arrangement.

Rivera weakly stood up and grabbed her head as a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Rivera rushed to the door and tried to pull it open, but no matter how she tried, the door didn't budge.

Rivera bit her lip and rushed toward one of the windows. She peered through it and discovered that it led to a balcony.

From the angle she stood, Rivera couldn't find a single soul. And that detail sent excitement and adrenaline through her veins.

Jumping through the floor-to-ceiling window seemed like the perfect way to escape.

Although her gaze only reached the edge of the balcony, if jumping down could guarantee her escape, Rivera didn’t mind the pain.

Rivera's hand shot toward the window, but before she could touch it—

SLAP!

Rivera screamed as she collapsed to the floor, her hand flying to her reddened and burning cheek.

She hadn't heard any sound, so how? Icy dread curled through her veins.

Rivera’s heart skipped upon making contact with raging dark eyes. She swallowed, coldness enveloping her skin.

“Do you know what I hated?” Vespertine's frigid voice invaded Rivera's ears.

“Disrespectful slaves.” A contemptuous glint laced his eyes.

Vespertine raised his hand and calmly fixed his wristwatch.

He took a seat on a chair and raised his index finger.

Whip!

A leather whip landed on Rivera's back—without warning.

“Ahhhhhh!” Rivera's lungs tore into a scream. Her body curled up in a fetal position, her hands failing to shield her body from the pain.

Whip!

“Ahhhh! Please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please. Forgive me,” Rivera screamed, hot tears streaming down her face profusely.

Whip!

“First rule: trying to escape was a criminal offense. Regardless of what identity you held minutes ago, you're nothing but Don Vespertine's slave now, capisce?” Shadow calmly explained.

“Yes, I understand. I understand now. I was wrong. I promise I won't—Ahhhh!”

WHIP!

“I'm so sorry. Please. Please. Make it stop,” she hiccuped, her voice turning hoarse.

It was after Rivera was given 25 strokes or more that Vespertine finally raised an index finger.

Shadow stepped back and placed his hands behind his back.

Rivera hiccuped and cried, her body shaking. Her body was lacerated with red marks and her hair clung to her face.

Vespertine glanced at his watch. “Get her prepared. Tonight she'll be bid on.”

A shiver traveled down Rivera's spine. Bid? Bid on? What did being bid on mean?

But judging by the tone and meaning, wasn't that the same as being put up for auction?

What were they going to do to her?

“It's best if she's a virgin. She would sell quite well with her pretty face. A good deal,” Shadow stepped forward, his voice calm and normal, like he was talking about selling a toy and not a grown girl for sex.

Virgin? Rivera froze. Was she about to be turned into a prostitute? Did this man even have a heart?

She trembled. No! No! She couldn't! She couldn't suffer this type of humiliation.

It was bad enough that Rivera and all her rights had been sold to Vespertine, but losing her integrity entirely was the final straw.

She would rather die than be auctioned off like a prostitute to the highest bidder.

Vespertine turned to leave.

Rivera reached to grab Vespertine's legs. She didn't know where she got the courage; all she knew was she couldn't be a prostitute!

Before Rivera could touch Vespertine, he kicked her away, his face contorting in a frown.

Rivera quickly knelt and clasped her hands together. She blurted out, “Please, sir. I can't. I can't do this. I'm innocent. I'm not a Sylvester; I was roped into this. Please, you've got the wrong person. Can you let me go please? I'm begging you. I promise I'll do whatever you want. I will keep my mouth shut. No one will know I'm here...”

“Whatever I want?” Vespertine's brows arched as if he had just heard something funny.

His calm eyes seemed to be laced with a taunt as they fell on Rivera's face. “Money? Power? Which?”

Rivera's face paled. She hesitated and shook her head. “I...”

Suddenly, a determined look appeared on her face. She explained, “But I'm really innocent in all of this. I didn't spend any of the gambling fees. I've worked my butt off for the family. I...”

“Quit it,” Shadow coldly interrupted, unfazed.

“Had Arthur won the money, would you have said he wasn't your father? Since he didn't, you were quick to toss him out. You all were a selfish bunch of people. I've never seen a selfish family like yours,” Fox sneered.

The father was quick to sell his daughter out, and the daughter wasn't different.

“No. It was... It wasn’t.” Rivera's face paled.

If they knew what she went through, they wouldn't speak like this. She really wasn't who they made her out to be.

“I'm not selfish. I'm really not. I've taken responsibility for the Sylvester family all my life...”

“Don't be late,” Vespertine cut her off and walked out of the room.

“Yes, Don,” Shadow and Fox bowed respectfully.

Rivera became anxious. “I... Sir...”

Fox looked at Rivera. “Don wasn't interested in pity plays; she might as well save her energy. Keep pushing and he’ll end your life. Obedient girls got it easier.”

Rivera's stomach churned. Obedient girls? Would she have to become a prostitute?

To save her life, she should keep quiet and let her life be dictated by these people?

What's life if she lost her morality? She would rather die!

Unlike Fox, Shadow lacked patience. He pulled Rivera up and dragged her out of the room roughly.

The heavy, carved cedar doors snapped shut behind them.

Shadow hauled Rivera down an endless, arched corridor built like a grand North African palace.

Overhead, the ceilings were mazes of detailed geometric woodwork, and the walls were covered in intricate, hand-carved stucco plaster.

The floor was made of cool, hand-painted ceramic tiles arranged in complex mosaic patterns.

The hallway was shaped by a long row of horseshoe arches, creating deep shadows where guards stood like statues.

Shadow shoved open a set of brass-plated doors before he finally dragged her out into a massive, open-air central courtyard.

Rivera raised her head and noticed that the sun was beginning to set. The air hit her face, sweeping her hair across her face.

The palace was built around a massive, central open-air courtyard.

In the center, water gurgled from a large marble fountain.

She saw a lot of people the moment they stepped into the courtyard.

Some people were unpacking boxes, while some were carrying the boxes into one of the buildings.

Some simply smoked and stood on standby.

Some women walked around half-naked and chatted with the men or other women.

Meanwhile, some women were naked with chains around their necks, some of the men touching them indecently.

“If you displeased Don, you would join those naked women. They were playthings with no dignity. They could never leave,” Fox explained, having seen Rivera looking at the naked women.

Rivera's face turned as pale as a sheet.

Rivera had always believed that she had been thrust into the cruelty of the world very early and that there was nothing she hadn't seen before.

But in less than two hours there, she realized that life was far more wicked than she could ever have thought.

Suddenly, a man slapped one of the naked women and ordered her to bark like a dog.

Rivera's scalp turned numb. Things were cruel, very cruel there. What sort of place did the Sylvester family get her into? Did the government know about this?

“The government, huh?” Fox laughed.

Rivera pressed her lips together awkwardly. She had mistakenly said her words aloud.

“Your president had to bow to Don if he wanted to live. What more a governor?”

“Quit talking!” Shadow ruthlessly cut him off and dragged Rivera faster.

Soon they arrived at a building named HOSPITAL.

After different turns and walking around the stark-white building filled with the sharp smell of disinfectant, drugs, and antiseptics, Rivera found herself in front of a man in his twenties. He wore scrubs and a lab coat.

Rivera's eyes dilated.

Harvey Lancaster, a renowned doctor famous not only for his genius and expert skill, but also as an active fighter for the poor.

It turned out he was a member of the mafia.

Rivera suddenly found everything ridiculous.

Life had been feeding her nonsense all this time.

“Diagnose her. Check if she's a virgin and screen her for any sickness. Prepare contraceptive pills for her. She can't get pregnant for at least a year. That's a loss,” Shadow said.

Rivera froze. Things seemed to be turning worse than she had ever thought they would.

The doctor nodded calmly. His eyes fell on Rivera's pale skin filled with whip marks. “Did I need to prepare ointment for the bruises?”

“No. It’s her lesson.”