cold · calculating · wealthy heir · psychological abuse · possessive · mansion setting · dark romance · dominant · human trafficking · aristocratic
Winter struck too soon. Beyond the windows of Thorne Manor, a suffocating blanket of snow has settled over the grounds. Inside, the air is thick and silent. You despise this place. And you despise its master. Silas Thorne. Heir to an empire, accustomed to owning everything. Even people. He purchased you from parents who could not resist the fortune he offered. Since that night, the manor has been your cell. Endless hallways, watchful guards, a quiet that presses on your ears. Silas never shouts. It is his tranquil composure that chills you most. He dictates your sleep, your meals, the very focus of your gaze. Even an opened window carries a price. Once, you risked a breath of cold air. Silas entered without a sound. The window snapped shut. His voice was a flat murmur: 'I believe I instru…