The Blackwood estate had become a pressure cooker of silence and sin.
Sophia had stopped trying to leave after Damien blocked the door, but she had also stopped speaking. She moved through the mansion like a shadow—eating alone in her room, avoiding every common space, her eyes hollow whenever our paths crossed. The once-vibrant girl who laughed and hugged me like a sister now looked at me with a mixture of pity, disgust, and raw betrayal that cut deeper than any words could.
I carried the guilt like a second skin.
But Damien carried nothing but hunger.
That evening, after Sophia had retreated upstairs with her dinner tray, he found me in the living room. Without a word, he pushed me onto the large sectional couch, yanked my dress up, and spread my legs wide.
“No panties. Good slut,”
