Chapter 2 First morning

Ivy

I woke to the sound of the door opening. No knock.

Elias stood at the foot of the bed, already dressed in another black suit. His expression was the same cold calm as last night.

"Get up."

I reached for the sheet. His voice cut through the air before my fingers touched it.

"I did not give you permission to cover yourself. Stand."

I let the sheet fall and stood. The cool air hit my bare skin. Elias's eyes moved over me slowly, the same clinical inspection from the night before.

"Shower. Dress in the clothes on the bathroom counter. Fifteen minutes. Do not make me wait."

He left.

I did as ordered. The black dress waiting for me fit perfectly and clung in ways that made me feel more exposed than nakedness had. When I stepped into the hallway, Elias was already there. He turned and walked without checking if I followed. I stayed two steps behind him.

In the dining room he sat at the head of the table and pointed to the chair on his right.

"Sit. Eat."

I forced down a few bites while he watched in silence. When I set the fork down, he spoke.

"From this moment your days follow my structure. You rise when I decide. You eat what I provide. You go where I put you. You do not ask questions. You do not offer opinions. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

The word tasted bitter. "Yes, sir."

He stood. "Follow me."

In the study he slid a black folder across the desk.

"These are the full terms. Read every page. Initial each one."

I sat and read. The language was cold and exact. Hours of availability. Restrictions on movement and speech. Consequences for disobedience. Clear statements that my body and time now belonged to him. When I finished initialing the last page, he locked the folder away.

"Sit by the window. Stay silent. Do not move unless I tell you to."

I sat. Hours passed. Elias worked as if I were furniture. My shoulders ached. My mouth went dry. I did not ask for water.

When he finally closed the laptop, he looked at me.

"Come here."

I stood in front of the desk. He turned me around, drew the zipper down, and let the dress fall to the floor. His hands settled on my waist, firm and impersonal.

"Clothes are a privilege," he said. "Privileges can be removed. Sit. Hands on the arms of the chair. Do not cross your legs. Do not look away from me."

I sat naked in the chair while he returned to his work. Every time his eyes lifted to check me, something tight and unwanted twisted low in my stomach. I hated the reaction. I hated that my body answered his control even while my mind rejected it.

In the afternoon he closed the laptop again.

"You did well. Dress. Same dress. Return to your room and stay there until I send for you."

I put the dress back on and left.

Alone in the bedroom, I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the locked garden below. One full day gone. I had been examined, stripped, displayed, and put back on the shelf.

The contract was no longer paper.

It was the shape of every hour still ahead of me.