~Elsie's POV
I still remember how my feet dragged across the cracked floor when I got home that evening, like they didn't belong to me anymore.
My body felt heavy, not just tired, but that deep kind of tired that sits inside your bones and refuses to leave. My palms still smelled like detergent from the cafe, and my back ached from standing all day, smiling at people who didn't even see me. Honestly, I just wanted to lie down. Maybe close my eyes for five minutes… or ten… or forever, if life allowed it.
But the moment I stepped in, my mother was already waiting, and in her hands… was something I didn't recognize.
It was a dress.
I blinked at it, slow at first, because my brain was still catching up, and then I looked again. It was… beautiful. Soft fabric, the kind I had only ever seen on mannequins behind glass. And the shoes… God. They looked expensive enough to pay our rent twice.
"Go and dress up," she said quickly, pushing them into my hands before I could even react. "You have fifteen minutes."
I just stood there, staring at her, then at the clothes, then back at her again.
"Where did you get this?" I asked, my voice coming out more confused than anything else. "And why do I have to….Mum, I'm tired. I just got back…"
"Don't ask questions!" she snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through whatever little energy I had left. "Not today, Elsie. I won't let you ruin this day for me."
Ruin?
I frowned, still trying to understand what was even going on, but before I could say anything else, my father's voice came from behind.
"Are you still standing there?" he barked. "Go and dress up now!"
And just like that… I knew I didn't have a choice.
I swallowed whatever words were left in my throat, turned around slowly, and walked into my room.
Honestly… I should have asked more questions.
But I didn't.
And maybe that was my first mistake.
The car ride was quiet. I sat in the backseat, holding onto the dress like it didn't belong to me, because it didn't. My mother kept glancing at me, adjusting my hair every now and then like I was some doll she was preparing for display, while my father drove like a man on a mission.
No one explained anything, and somehow… that made everything feel worse.
When we got there, I knew immediately that I didn't belong.
The estate was massive. Lights everywhere. Music floating in the air, soft but expensive somehow. People stood in groups, laughing, smoking, holding glasses of champagne like it was nothing.
Everything about the place screamed money, and then there was me, dressed in something too fine for my life, standing in shoes that felt unfamiliar, surrounded by people who looked like they had never worried about anything a day in their lives.
I felt… small. My father kept looking at me, not in a proud way, but like he was watching… checking… making sure I didn't mess something up. And my mother…God…she kept pressing talking to me to be well behaved and then few minutes later, she started shoving drinks into my hand.
"Hold this. Drink it and smile,"
It was too much.
"I don't even know why we're here," I muttered under my breath, but no one answered me.
Of course, they didn't.
Then suddenly, my father grabbed my arm.
"Come," he said.
I didn't even get to ask where before he started pulling me along, weaving through the crowd like he knew exactly where he was going.
"This is the man hosting," he added quickly, his tone changing, almost… respectful. "Behave yourself."
Hosting?
I frowned again, my mind already spinning, but then we stopped.
And I saw him. He was an old man. Maybe in his eighties. Surrounded by people, all smiling, all greeting him like he was someone important.
"Mr. Davies," my father said with a small bow, nudging me forward.
I forced myself to step ahead, "Happy birthday, sir," I said softly, lowering my gaze politely as I reached for his hand.
But instead of just accepting it, he lifted my hand and kissed it slowly.
My stomach turned instantly.
A wave of disgust rushed through me so fast that I almost gasped, and without thinking, I pulled my hand back.
I felt my father's stare immediately. It was so sharp and warning, but I didn't care.
Another person came up to greet him, and just like that, we were dismissed, and my father led me away again.
I could feel the anger rising inside me now, bubbling slowly, mixing with confusion and something else I couldn't name yet.
"What was that?" I muttered, my voice tight as we walked back.
He didn't answer.
Of course, he never did.
I went back to sit beside my mother, grabbing the drink she handed me and gulping it down almost immediately.
I needed something to calm myself.
"That man kissed my hand," I whispered to her, leaning closer.
She barely reacted.
"It's nothing," she said lightly. "Don't overthink it."
Nothing?
I stared at her, shocked at how easily she brushed it off, but I didn't say anything else.
Because what was the point?
And then… My eyes landed on someone else across the room. I don't even know how to explain it properly. The man just… stood out. He looked so tall, calm, and dangerous in a quiet way.
The kind of man you look at once… and then you immediately look away because something about him feels like trouble.
My breath caught slightly, and suddenly, I felt warm. I thought maybe… I was blushing.
Embarrassed, I quickly looked away when our eyes almost met, my heart beating faster than it should.
What is wrong with me?
I grabbed another drink and finished it, hoping it would settle whatever strange feeling was building inside me.
But it didn't. If anything… it got worse. Minutes passed, and then my body started feeling… weird. My head felt light. My skin felt hot.
"I… I don't feel okay," I said to my mother, my voice coming out unsteady. "I think I need to go home."
"No," she said immediately, her tone firm. "You're going nowhere."
My chest tightened.
"I'm serious…"
"There is a room upstairs. Second hallway to the right. Go and rest for a while, then come back when you look normal."
I nodded, even though the word stung more than it should.
"Okay," I said.
Because I didn't trust myself to argue. Walking felt like a struggle.
The hallway stretched longer than it should have, and my steps weren't steady anymore. My body burned, like something was wrong inside me, and every breath felt heavier than the last.
I finally reached a door and pushed it open, but it was locked. I frowned, my head spinning, and knocked, but still there was no answer.
So I knocked again hard, and again until suddenly, the door opened.
And there he was, the man from earlier. He was up close… he looked even more dangerous, and drunk.
His eyes were heavy, but sharp at the same time, and his presence alone made the air feel… tight.
"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice low, rough, and cold despite the obvious hint of alcohol.