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The atmosphere in the grand dining room was deceptively serene, the soft clinking of silverware against porcelain blending with the low hum of polite conversation.

Alexander, Lucian, and Elijah sat across from their wives Sophia, Scarlet and Shylah, their father, Victor Rivera, presiding over the head of the table with an air of authority that commanded even their silence. The brothers' mother, Eloise Rivera, looked on fondly, occasionally chiming in with gentle smiles and irrelevant anecdotes.

Victor cleared his throat, silencing the room instantly. "I've made a decision," he began, folding his napkin and placing it on the table. His voice, calm yet firm, carried the weight of years of dominance over his family.

The brothers exchanged wary glances, but it was Alexander who tilted his head slightly, awaiting the inevitable command.

"I've noticed you've all been working tirelessly. It's time to step back for a moment. Take your wives on a honeymoon," Victor said, his gaze sweeping across the table. "Fifteen days. I'll have someone else manage the office in your absence."

Lucian, already gripping his glass tightly, opened his mouth to protest, but Alexander cut him off with a smooth, "Of course, Dad."

The younger brothers snapped their heads toward him, disbelief flashing in their eyes, but they bit their tongues. If Alexander, their unspoken leader, had no objections, they had little choice but to follow suit.

Victor nodded approvingly. "Good. You leave in three days. Make the necessary arrangements."

Later that evening, in the privacy of Alexander's study, the brothers' suppressed frustration finally erupted.

"Why the hell did you agree to that?" Elijah barked, pacing the room. His fists clenched and unclenched, his jaw tight with anger.

Alexander leaned back in his leather chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Until we find a way to inherit the company without his conditions, we play by his rules. He holds all the cards right now."

"This is ridiculous!" Lucian spat, slamming his fist on the desk. "We've been running the corporation since we graduated, putting in blood, sweat, and sleepless nights, and now he's tying our inheritance to giving him heirs? What kind of medieval crap is this?"

"Calm down," Alexander said, his voice quieter but no less firm. "We'll figure something out. We always do."

Elijah let out a bitter laugh. "And what about our fragile little princess?" He shot a glance at Lucian. "I can't go a day without seeing her and I believe it goes the same for the two of you as well."

Alexander's lips curved into a calculating smirk. "Simple. We'll go to the same island for our honeymoons where Rose is. It'll be easier to keep an eye on her there."

"What? No way!" Lucian snapped, his eyes narrowing. "What if those witches—"

"That's why we'll keep rose in the basement," Alexander interrupted coldly. "After what you did to her, she won't even be conscious for the next few days. And when she wakes up..." He chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his drink. "She'll be too terrified to breathe, let alone escape or defy any of us."

Elijah, leaning casually against the wall, smirked. "Also, we can drug our so-called wives every night," he suggested with a glint of malice. "Let the guards have their fun. They won't remember a thing."

Lucian scoffed, shaking his head. "You're one sick bastard."

Elijah laughed cruelly.

Alexander raised his glass. "It's about control. They're pawns. And pawns only move where the king allows."

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Meanwhile, in another wing of the mansion, the three sisters sat in a lavishly furnished lounge.

Sophia, the eldest and most cunning of the sisters, leaned forward, her voice low and commanding.

"This is an opportunity," she began, her eyes flicking to each of her sisters. "Use your charms. Use seduction. Keep your husbands focused on you. Control them through their weaknesses."

The sisters exchanged glances, Shylah nervous, while Scarlet intrigued. Shylah, hesitated. "But what if they..."

"No 'what ifs," Sophia cut her off sharply. "We don't question. We act. It's the only way to get what we want. We are queens and will always remain that. Make sure no one should be able to snatch that place from us"

"That's gonna be possible only if we have these Rivera brothers wrapped around our Pinkies" Scarlet smirked as she filed her nails.

"Correct" Sophia smirked.

But only if they knew that place already has been given to someone else and that nothing and no one could possibly replace her from there.

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August lay motionless on the bed, her body broken, her spirit shattered. The nurse beside her carefully fed her soup, as if tending to a fragile, dying flower. The warm liquid touched her lips, but she barely swallowed, her gaze blank and unfocused.

Her world was a prison, the silence around her suffocating. Every creak of the walls, every shuffle of footsteps outside the room sent waves of terror rippling through her body.

Her wide, glassy eyes darted toward the slightest noise, trembling as though she were a child again—afraid of monsters hiding under the bed, only now, the monsters weren't imaginary. They were real. They had names. They had faces.

Her legs were heavy and stiff in their casts, her right arm immobilized in a sling. She hadn't dared move since waking up three days ago, the pain in her ribs like knives stabbing with every breath.

Her head throbbed endlessly, as if her skull were being hammered from the inside. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental agony. The memories, the humiliation, the fear—they clawed at her mind relentlessly.

Lucian's cold, cruel voice still echoed in her ears. His monstrous hands, his predatory gaze—they were burned into her, a living nightmare that she couldn't wake from. And she knew this was only the beginning. If he could do that to her once, he could do worse.

Tears welled up in her eyes, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She didn't sob, didn't cry aloud—her body lacked the strength for even that. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks, trembling as they fell onto the pillow.

Why? Why was she still alive?

She couldn't understand it. What had she done to deserve this? She was no saint, but surely no sin she'd ever committed warranted this kind of punishment. She wanted to scream at the heavens, to demand answers, but even that felt futile.

Her lips quivered as a single thought took root in her mind. Maybe I shouldn't be alive.

The idea of death seemed almost comforting now. Wouldn't it be better? She could escape the endless pain, the ceaseless fear. Maybe on the other side, Noah would be waiting for her.

Her mind drifted to him, and for a moment, the tears came harder.

She could almost see his playful glare, hear his teasing voice:

"And then her majesty finally showed up and honored her favorite slave."

He would always say that whenever she kept him waiting, his tone laced with mock irritation, his lips curving into a smirk that melted her heart every time.

Would he be angry at her if she gave up now? Or would he pull her into one of his warm, unshakable hugs and whisper against her hair, "It's okay. You're safe now. I've got you."

The thought of him, of his touch, broke something in her. A tear slid down her temple, and the nurse, seeing her distress, gently wiped it away.

August blinked, her throat dry and tight, and looked at the nurse with pleading eyes. She had to know. She had to.

"A-Aiden," she croaked, her voice barely a whisper. Her chest heaved with the effort, the sound so weak that the nurse had to lean closer to catch it. Even now, even like this, her first thought was not of herself but of him. Where was he?

The nurse froze, her expression unreadable. She didn't know who Aiden was, but she also knew better than to answer. She had been told to stay quiet, to pretend she heard nothing. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her silence a shield against the wrath of her masters.

August saw the hesitation, the fear, and her heart sank. She closed her eyes tiredly, tears leaking from the corners. She already knew the answer. If Aiden were alive, he would have been here by now.

The nurse adjusted the pillow under her head, her touch gentle but mechanical. August turned her face away, sinking into the void of her despair.

She felt so small, so empty. Her body ached for comfort, for safety. All she wanted was someone to hold her, to promise her that she would survive this, that things would get better.

But there was no one.

She was alone in a cold, dark world, and the monsters weren't just under her bed. They were everywhere.