𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐎𝐟 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 [𝟏𝟖+] ✓

29*

6k words chapter that's literally two updates lol. Give me some comments. Thanks.

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Katrina Diaz

Early this week, Liam had run into some problems at Evans Group headquarters, which even Dean Kirby couldn't help, and Hayden's presence had been demanded by the board of directors. Hayden and I had decided it was best if he handled the problem in his company, so he had gone to London a few days back, leaving me behind at the Island of Arkney to stay with my friends for the time being.

Staying with my friends was a disaster because the only time Delilah's and Freya's brain cells worked was when we were clubbing. Tonight, despite my resistance, they had demanded I tag along with them.

Having no work to do anymore, I didn't resist.

"Why did you cut your hair?" I asked, eyes raking over my cousin's figure. Something about Freya Hall had completely changed after her trip to Russia. "Is there something I should know?"

My gaze drifted across the room.

"Long-short story. I fell in love, but it could be Stockholm syndrome," answered my cousin.

Delilah narrowed her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"No?! My trip to Russia went horribly wrong. I got abducted, taken into a sex ring, and was sold as a sex slave. I tried, like really tried, to escape from this sex contract and failed. At some point, I resigned myself to fate and served like a sex slave. I fell in love with the man who owned me, confessed my love only for him to toss me back. He brought me to the UK to my family and here I am," she mumbled, hands twisting a chunk of hair in a hair curler, her eyes meeting mine in the reflection.

"Such a cliche story." Delilah snorted, evidently missing the look that passed on my cousin's face. "You texted me all the time during the summer."

"I am not bluffing." Freya released her hair, letting her curled hair fall on her shoulder. "When I was a good girl, he let me use my social media, talk to my family, but nothing much."

"Nope, tell the truth," demanded Delilah, trying on a pair of red heels.

My cousin's nostrils flared, anger forming hard lines on her face. With a deep breath, she pulled her dress over her neck, revealing herself in a red lingerie.

"See that," she cried out, finger jabbing at a tattoo on the curve of her waist. "The trademark of Sinful Dolls. I was number 13."

Sinful Dolls was rumoured as one of the most notorious human trafficking rings in the world that served high society clients, from royalties, to billionaires, to mafia men. Had I not known how much Freya hated the number 13, I would've never believed the fact that the tattoo was forced on her. A trademark.