Episode 2

"Miss Kaya."

I hear the voice of one of the maids echo through the room; it's six in the morning, and as much as I wish to continue sleeping, I cannot. In this house, there is a schedule I must adhere to. I rise every morning for my horseback riding lesson, at nine o'clock begin piano lessons, and before lunch yet another of the dreary English classes. A lady must be cultured, and all this is never enough despite my fluency in seven other languages. A high society girl must have more than a pretty face and an attractive bank account, my father always says, trying to convince me that what I do every day is anything but a waste of time. What I truly desire is to travel the world, visit the most famous museums and theaters, and to be more than just a pretty face at dinners and society events, to contribute to social causes, and to be more altruistic—it has never been my focus. It’s not as exciting as an afternoon of shopping in the shops of London. In fact, I've never liked mingling too much with people outside my class, something perhaps unusual for girls my age. My father doesn’t see it as folly; he says everyone has their place in a hierarchy. I am the heiress to one of the largest export empires in Russia, and alongside my brother Ryan, I will take over the business. I don't understand why we moved to Brazil; I don’t like this place. Both my father and brother are constantly traveling, leaving me alone and bored in a third-world country I hardly know.

Kaya Chinaider, 18 years old, the youngest daughter of one of the richest entrepreneurs in Russia, spoiled, intelligent, and heiress of a vast empire.

I rise from bed and walk to the bathroom, take a quick shower, and in the closet, I pick out one of the outfits for today's lesson. It's always the same tight and uncomfortable uniform that I despise, only the colors vary between dull and laughably tacky. I descend the stairs with my equipment in hand, and before I reach the room, one of the staff takes it from me.

"Miss."

He bows in a fashion similar to a reverence, I find it all so overdone and silly, though I do like how it makes me feel like royalty. I sigh, making my way to the breakfast table, where Lesly is drinking an oddly colored juice—I believe it's part of one of her radical diets. She’s enviably thin, though not entirely by healthy means. My cousin is one of the most sought-after models in Europe, yet she possesses the lowest self-esteem I've ever encountered. The eating selectivity she has developed has concerned the whole family.

Lesly Chinaider, 20 years old, cousin and best friend of Kaya

"Up so early?"

I kiss her cheek and sit beside her at the table.

"Thought of going for a run."

She speaks, sipping from her glass.

"You don’t seem excited for the lesson. If you dislike it, why continue?"

"Try convincing Mr. Jeremiah Chinaider. He is unyielding, Lesly. I gave up arguing."

I bite into my toast, then leave. The day is just as tedious as I expected. After hours of moving from club to school and back, I return home, utterly drained. I drag myself up the stairs when my cousin walks up to me.

"Thought you wouldn’t be sleeping at home tonight."

She holds a massive bowl of popcorn in her hands.

"God, tell me you're planning a girls' night. I need some good news today."

She smiles.

"I pick the movie; your last choice was dull. You have no taste."

She leaves for the vast home cinema. I race to my bedroom, take a shower, and choose a comfortable set of pajamas. At this hour, the staff has gone to bed, only the housekeeper remains in the mansion, the staff's quarters being on the lower part of the property allows Lesly and me privacy to walk comfortably around the house. I sprawl on the sofa, grabbing the bowl of popcorn. Lesly finds an interesting series. We watch Bridgerton for several hours until I hear a loud noise from the front door. Startled, I sit up quickly, Lesly already asleep, clutching a pillow.

"Hey, Lesly."

I shake her, but she doesn’t stir. I stand, slipping on my sandals, moving silently through the house, which is dark.

"Who's there?"

I ask but receive no reply.

"It’s just in your head, don’t be foolish."

I scold myself for my paranoia. Being the daughter of an excessively cautious and protective father makes you overly careful. I turn to go back to the TV room when suddenly I am seized from behind, my mouth covered and I am lifted off the ground, I scream after biting hard whoever lurks in the shadows.

"Do that again, and I'll pull those pretty little teeth out one by one."

He squeezes my cheek, his voice as raspy as anything I've ever heard. Desperately, I glance at the massive mountain of muscle before me. I think to scream louder, but then it hits me: a large group of armed men has invaded the house.

"Move."

He yanks my arm, forcing me to walk towards the sofa where Lesly is already crying, being tied up by a thug.

"Sit."

He commands.

"They don't understand, boss. They don't speak our language."

Another man approaches the brute who accosted me. He seems to be the leader. He looks at me warily as the man finishes speaking, the fact that their faces are uncovered is chilling—my father always said cowards cover their faces and that a lack of fear is dangerous.

"Where are the security guards?"

The leader inquires, and the younger man before him makes a grim gesture, sliding his thumb across his neck as if cutting it with a knife.

"Put them in the car."

He orders. Lesly and I are gagged and taken to the vehicle. The mansion is as silent as if it were entirely empty, igniting a torturous fear inside me. What will become of us? Where are these men taking us?

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