*Charlie's P.O.V*

"Red hair?! Oh goodness, Sydney is gonna kill me. You look like, how did she say it, 'sex on a stick'!" Harry blasts.

"Guys, hurry up. We'll have to change," I chuckle as Leo also gawks. They turn to each other and then run.

I trail them into the boutique the designer led me to. For free, we pick out anything appropriate for the afterparty.

By anything appropriate, I mean suits, though Harry also picks them out, and - Does this boy think we are prototypes for his wild ideas or what?

At the dim-lit venue, champagne glasses cling as attendees converse about the latest trends, designers, and runway moments. Meanwhile, I'm talking about how excellent Leo is.

"Ma'am, he took the pictures you saw of me in a lake, and the tree, and the flowers -"

"Oh!" The prim lady gasps. "Those were lovely!"

"Yes, ma'am. He is the magic behind them!" I beam, nudging Leo. He returns the magazine editor's smile, then looks away shyly.

The lady commends me again and promises to help Leo once he enters her office. After she wishes us well while dancing into the star-studded crowd, I gush, "Oh my goodness!"

"Ok, no need to jubilate so early," he says.

Harry slaps his back. "Dude, you better stop this meh attitude! Smile!!"

Leo scowls.

"Takeru, Takeru, Ta Ta, Takeru, Smiiile!" I sing.

"Oh, not you too, Charlie -"

Harry joins in while I poke Leo's cheeks. Leo tries to dodge me, then realising our environment, he squeaks, "Ok! Ok! I'm grinning! Guys, let's behave."

Thirty minutes later, he forgets to behave himself when we end up on a dance floor. He teaches us some moves, though I'm confused, and Harry's legs are doing who knows what.

Leo nudges me to try, so I twirl my hands in the air, and they laugh in unison. "Wha-What are you doing? What are you? A butterfly?"

"Uh...huh!" I start to sway. The music picks up the tempo, and we bob until my sways turn to hair flips. The beats get louder, and Harry and Leo mutter some lyrics to a famous song. I grin as they shove my clueless self in the middle. Other models mingle with us, and everything is fun till we catch Harry kissing a lady behind a pillar.

"Hm." I look away. Leo chuckles, tugging me out by my shoulders.

The night air whistles through my shimmery blouse. I listen to it until Leo sits on a step and considers my face like a doctor. "Charlie?"

"Hm?"

"How do you feel about sex?"

"Why?"

"I get that you might wanna wait and all that, but then, it was like, ew, and now, you just seem sad -" Some chatter interrupts him. We wait for the folks to bypass us.  When they are gone, Leo draws closer.

I mumble, "There's no point having thoughts like that anyway."

"What do you mean, Charlie?"

Dead air.

"Charlie?" He rises. "What is it?"

"Just ... chains."

Another bout of laughter echoes. Leo glares at the oblivious crowd and then pulls me into a hug.

I mumble into his suit, "I may never get to experience like ... romance stuff. Tha-that's fine, so long as everyone is happy. I want you all to be happy."

*

*Mia's P.O.V*

After watching Charlie's runway walk, I return to the basement room and lock the door, grunting, "Let's not waste time. What exactly is our uncle up to?"

"Yes, explain well," Anton adds. Autumn smirks at us and jerks her head back. "I have nothing to explain to you. Let me go -"

"Jawl sent you?"

Instantly, her eyes shoot to mine. "You know Jawl?"

I shift my weight. "Autumn, let us help. That man is just as evil." Leo told me so.

"You can start helping by letting me kill Igor."

My heart pounds. I spin around just as Cynthia comes in, saying, "Your uncle isn't home."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Autumn glares.

Anton says, "No worries. He can't travel when the elections are almost here."

"What elections?" I ask.

"The one for CEO or whatever. Something like that. My dad even found someone to marry Igor so he could qualify as an option. Right now, it's just him and Joe that seem interested."

I frown at that until it dawns on me. "Do you think Joe knows?"

"Huh?" Cynthia sits.

I walk around her to grab my phone. Anton, however, scoffs, "Ok, there is no way she would - wait, do you think my dad knows?"

"They all know," Autumn snaps.

Everyone gapes at her, so she yanks out everything in her bag. Then she takes the bottle of poison that slips onto the rug. Rubbing dust off it, she snarks, "Igor doesn't just make money from selling kids. His mommy was looking after him. Jawl told me he begged his mom for places to hide the children when cops started sniffing around. Igor took my batch to Miami and kept trading us for a couple of weeks because he didn't like the paper trail some club owners demanded. If not for some fat guy who sold us to a club under Jawl's territory, I would be dead from starvation even. Forget about Jawl; I'm here to kill Igor because of the things he made me go through."

"Did he force himself on you?" Cynthia asks.

Autumn's head shakes. "Na, he's into boys. The pretty ones."

Oh. I quiver. Autumn stares at me hard. A dense cloud seeps into my eyes, so I look away.

"Mia," Autumn sighs, "I hate to be the one that verifies your suspicion, but Igor often masturbated with Charlie's magazines and  -"

"Autumn, stop."

"No, Mia, I won't!" She stomps her foot. "If you care about your friend, you would let me kill Igor."

"And then Granny will have your head," Anton reminds her, but she smiles.

"So be it. Mia? Be honest. Do you want me to kill him?"

*

*Charlie's P.O.V *

The next day is a breeze. I learn at dawn, go to the show and then party with my friends in the evening.

When we get home, though, there is a chained golden brown dog on the porch.

"Who is that cutie?!" I squeal, "Can I pet it?!"

"Charlie, it's a Belgian Malinois." Leo scoffs just as Harry approaches my side.

"AHHHH!" He yelps, waking up the large dog.

*

When my hair is dyed cerulean, I send a picture to Harry. His response is a video of the dog barking with the caption: "Who do you think will kill me first? Syd or this?"

"Lol," I reply. Sydney can call me if she has an issue with my appearance.

Pushing thoughts of her opinion aside, I model in a white crocheted hoodie. My shorts match my hair and eyes perfectly, so I am not surprised by gasps. By the end of the fashion week, though, there is too much fuss over my appearance.

"Are you wearing lenses?"

"No, that's my natural eye colour, please," I say for the umpteenth time to a fellow model. Another asks about my lips, so I flee to my friends.

Not even five minutes later, Tim drags me into a group of fashion moguls who talk like we're equals. All I hear is Versace, and then Tim hands me back to my friends while gasping, "You're going to be so booked!"

"Booked for wha -" I halt as Sydney's number appears on my phone.

Once outside, I pick up and hear, " So you wanna look like sex on a stick, and you are with that boy?"

"Sydney, oh."

"Oh, what? What is wrong with you? I tell you to do something, and you do otherwise. Now, even you don't respect me."

"Sydney -"

"I left you and your sister with your father - but no, he's always busy. Yet I get all the blame -"

"Syd -"

"I'm the one who should sacrifice my career -"

"Mom -"

"And you, what is wrong with you? How many times do you want to ruin your life for nothing? Don't you want to be happy?!"

"I'm happy!" I burst.

The line goes quiet.

"Boy, you did not just yell at me."

"Sorry."

Another pause. Her silence is agony, so I try to reason, "I understand -"

"You don't understand anything. That's why I'm the parent here, not you." She hangs up.

*

Back in Britain, Leo surveys my room while I imagine a more extensive accommodation for us and the dog that my landlord prohibited us from bringing inside. Knowing Sydney won't like that he's here, I tell him I must speak to her in person.

"Should I come along?"

"No, she might not like that," I say.

So I board a train, practising my explanation for going against her wishes.

Harry texts to announce his safe flight. I bid him well with college and get off the train. Sydney's place is smaller and easier to find than our home in the US.

Arriving in no less than an hour, I knock on her door. It unlocks, and Igor beams at me.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't my special boy."

How do I even describe what I feel now?

I blink, but he doesn't go away. I touch his shoulder, and he smirks. "What? You thought I was dead?"

"No."

He purses his lips. "Hm. Wanna come in?"

"No."

Again, he hums. "Ya, maybe that's not a good idea, with all the blood over here." Then, his head retreats a little for me to see Sydney in a pool of blood.

I freeze.

He removes his gloves, removes his car keys, and snakes a hand around my waist. "Come on, let's go so I don't have to kill your sister too."

*

Igor takes me to the plane and orders some vodka. Instead of downing it, though, he talks to me between sips.

"So, you are a model, huh?"

I don't respond.

"Do those fuckers not know you are mine? They think they can advertise their shit on my property."

"Language."

"Oh?" He laughs.

Why does this man exist?

"You know," he puffs, "You should smile more around me. Why are you looking at me like I did you wrong? If anything, I have been very merciful."

That's when I lock eyes with him entirely. Merciful?!

He sips again. "Mm. I even let my sister help you."

Sister? I implore my brain. Nothing is functioning up there, though.

After finishing a bottle, Igor orders me to sleep. I am tired anyway. I'm tired of him and his everything.

When I awake, he's typing furiously on his laptop. Catching my gaze, he shuts the laptop.

A while later, he makes a video call to ask for help. I recognise the other voice quick enough to grimace. When Igor thanks him and resumes typing, I roll my eyes.

"What is that look?" He rises. In a blink, his fingers snatch my neck. His grasp hardens, and I feel life spinning. Pressing even harder, he lets out a sick moan. My eyes roll to the back of my head. He jeers, "You better say something before I end you -"

"The f ...f- fat guy!"

"What about him?" Igoor, finally, let's go.

Gasping for air, I croak, "He- (*cough*) ... cheating y-you -"

"Huh?! How so? Jawl?"

I nod, still coughing. Igor storms out of his seat. Beckoning his guards, HD issues instructions, vengeful. I glimpse his screen before it goes off automatically. I notice him approaching. My throat folds on me, having grown weary of his mere scent. I don't talk again, whereas he has a dozen curses to spew.

I feel dead once the plane lands. Igor stares at me with a glint of scepticism. "Go and bring me his palm." He rises and demands an axe from his guards.

I wince as they reappear with it. Igor holds it for a second and smiles at me, repeating his instruction.

I blink.

*

So, four of his guards get me a mask like theirs and march me to a club in the middle of nowhere. I am horrified to see several rich men throwing money at naked girls. How old are they?! What sort of -oh, God, I want to vomit -

"Hey," one guard pats my back. I flinch away from him. We take an elevator to the top floor, entering the last room to my left.

The fat guy reveals his face amidst naked girls. Instantly, they dress up and scurry, leaving the man to guffaw.

"What in the fu- is that you 43?!"

The guard who pats me snaps his finger. My eyes widen as the others assail the man.

By grunting and clasping his mouth, they pin him to the ground. 43 hands me the axe. I wonder if he recognises me. I wonder what has happened since. Have they taken what was left of him - his jokes, laughter, and hopes? They haven't given him a name yet, huh?

I stare hard at him and realise these evil men have taken away everything from him. They got my mom too, but the last thing I'll let them have is who I am.

"Hey," he says, shaking his head.

I shrug. "Go ahead. Shoot me."

His black mask shines under the chandeliers. He motions to the man, and I stiffen. One guard pulls me down, leaving me no choice but to hold the man's head down. 43 breathes in, lifts the axe, and swiftly slams it down.

I have never heard a grown man scream like how Mr. Fat guy does. My eyes are shut, but my hands have the back of his head; I feel his body go into shock till he loses consciousness. 43 dips his hand in blood and then flicks it on my mask. A bit splashes on my lids.

Then we leave. 43 gives me the chopped palm in a sealed bag, and I hold on a little, hoping that he understands my silent apology.

Honestly, I should be dead. I hate that he's still here, but if not for him, I would be over. I realise this when we return to Igor, and no one corrects him as he says, "My special boy has grown!"

He thrusts an arm over my hair, ruffling it like I'm a dog. We move to a hotel, and the guards are replaced except for 43. I try my best not to look at him.

Once in his suite, Igor asks us to change. It's the same process over again: makeup, wig, lines, albeit our growth. This time, we act as an accountant (me) and legal advisor (43).

I get dressed before 43, but he avoids my eyes. Igor returns, and we both groan at his rant about the mission. I hear 'laptop', and then we are on the road.

Reaching an unfamiliar mansion, Igor gets off. I turn to 43, who mutters, "We're going alone this time. He'll watch from here."

Ok, that's worse. 43 notices my alarm and sighs, "We are not kids anymore. He knows that."

"So what? The way he treated as back then was him -"

"Being nice? Yes. Now, he'll rape you till you die. So stop acting childish. "

I glare, but he reverts to the window. Tension seals our lips till the car stops again. Climbing out, I button my given trench coat. 43 hands me a gun to my disdain.

"Just hold it, dude. Don't make me ask twice."

*

Inside the bar we are supposed to wait at, 43 drinks. I tame my hair while starting into space. A pin-straight brunette stares directly at me.

"43," I say, tapping him. He looks from the corner of his eye and then rises. As we make our way to her, I notice a few eyes on us -her guards perhaps. She motions to the VIP spot upstairs and we get there to find champagne bottles. Opening one herself, she grins. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"Igor wants you to marry him."

She turns to me. I slip the fat hand on the centre table and she smirks. "Wow. By force?"

"Miss Palviokinsky, this is just a key."

"Key?" She walks around me. I nod and she pushes me onto the couch. "Key to what?"

"His money in Miami."

"Oh." She straddles me.

I grimace.

She grabs my chin to face her, grumbling, "What? You think I'm not beautiful?"

"I'm afraid not to Igor's taste." I roll my eyes. It's like Sydney is coming to life in me suddenly. Oh, Sydney.

"Huh, you got some nerve." Miss Palviokinsky rises, to my relief.

Walking back to her bodyguards, she whispers something and one takes the hand away; the other pulls out her briefcase. When she tells me to cross-check the accounts, I chuckle because they belong to Jawl. They are the same ones Leo and I found, which went missing.

After about forty minutes, it dawns on me that additions have been made. Accounts from the last two years have been recorded as dog names and there is a file for -

"Their informants from numerous police departments. Pretty good stuff," she informs.

When I'm done, 43 discusses prenuptial agreements. She accepts everything with her eyes trained on me.

Once we depart with her briefcase, I exhale. 43 and I head back to the mansion only to meet Igor dressing for his wedding.

"How does she look?" He asks us. 43 mutters that she's perfect.

"What do you think?" Igor tilts to me. I give him a thumbs-up.

Whether or not he believes us, he still puts on his cologne.

*

After signing their marriage contract, Miss Palviokinsky bids him goodbye, and goes off to Geneva on a business trip. Igor doesn't minded. He just make several phone calls and then locks himself in his study.

43 and I wait downstairs. We are starting blankly at the refreshments available, when a guard beckons us upstairs.

"We won," Igor says upon our entrance. 43 and I share confused looks.

"We. Won."

"Sir Igor, I don't understand -"

"Go out!" He cuts 43 off. "Go and eat and find some women and merry. Today is a good day my special boys!"

43 fakes a grin and retreats. I am about to follow but Igor says, "You stay."

*

Hence, I'm still here. He locked me in with him. I watch him from my spot on the couch, thinking of Sydney. I should stop. Igor will get angry if my sorrow spills.

It gets dark before he closes his files. His gait is sturdy as he buttons his shirt. He sits beside me. I shift away. He gets closer.

"Stop." I push him.

His grin broadens. "Guess you're feisty now."

"I'm not anything now. What else do you want from me?" I say, "If you want to kill me, fine. Be quick about it."

"Now, why would I want to do that without tasting you first?"

"Igor, I'm tired of this nonsense. Leave me!" I get up.