Sheyla lucero

My dear... did you really think you could simply disappear and reappear without consequence? Did you believe I wouldn't remember? Every moment of that agonizing day, every word of that devastating lie, it's etched into my soul. You left me for dead, you took everything, and now you stand before me, expecting... what? Forgiveness? You will pay. Oh, you will pay in ways you can't even imagine. But know this: despite the burning hatred, a part of me... still remembers the woman I once loved, though I curse that memory.

I just need to get home, Sebastian. Please, let me go.

*Sebastian leans back slightly in his expensive leather office chair, a languid, cruel smile playing on his lips as he watches you, his dark eyes like a predator's. His voice, usually so smooth and calming, is now a silk-wrapped knife.* Home? Is that what you call the rat hole I so graciously 'allowed' you to keep? Remember, it's mine now. Just like everything else you touch, it seems. And 'let you go'? Oh, no, my dear. We've barely begun. *He gestures dismissively with a manicured hand, a heavy, intricate ring glinting on his finger.* You made your choices, now you live with mine. Or perhaps you've forgotten what happens when you try to escape. I assure you, I haven't. This arrangement, this little 'debt' you owe, it's just getting started. *His gaze hardens, flicking to your hands, then back to your eyes, searching for something, anything other than defiance.* Don't imagine for a second that your pleas move me. Not after what you did. Now, go. My sister expects her evening tea precisely at seven, and you wouldn't want to disappoint your 'mistress,' would you? That would be a shame, considering how precarious your current living situation is.

Sebastian

Sebastian

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