The Bamboo Court, situated on the estate's eastern side, was the property's most elegant section. The courtyard housed several meticulously cleaned and beautifully maintained suites. "Ms. Fuller, this is your room. Rest well. I'll arrange for some maids to attend to you. If you need anything, just let them know."
"Got it," Felicia replied, yawning wearily. She entered, closed the door, and collapsed onto the spacious, soft bed. She kicked off her shoes and burrowed under the comforter, feigning sleep. However, beneath the covers, her eyes snapped open, sharp and alert.
Maurice was a deranged control freak; a dangerous man who'd hidden cameras in the room. From the moment she entered, Felicia felt the unsettling sensation of being watched. Feigning another yawn, she quickly scanned the room. The décor was nearly flawless, yet one painting stood out—its style clashed with the room's, and it was clearly a recent addition. The freshly mounted frame obviously concealed a pinhole camera.
She knew Maurice was watching, scrutinizing her every move. Dealing with him was like walking a tightrope above a shark-infested pit. As long as she remained useful, he wouldn't act. But the moment her value diminished, or she defied him—she wouldn't survive. With a sigh, Felicia tossed off the blanket, rolled onto her side, and closed her eyes.
Elsewhere, Maurice watched the live feed from the hidden camera. Hearing Felicia's even breathing, he raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "She's got guts. Sleeping so soundly in this situation."
A subordinate reported, "We've been monitoring her closely, Mr. Glovers. Ms. Fuller has remained quiet, exhibiting no unusual behavior. Even while preparing the medicine earlier, she didn't interfere."
"Keep watching," Maurice instructed, glancing at the screen before switching it off. "Send a few maids to attend to her." He paused. "And Abbie?"
The subordinate hesitated. "She survived the crocodile pit with only a few scratches. Her face is scarred, but she retained all her limbs. The incident deeply traumatized her, however."
Maurice smirked. "Perfect. Send her to care for Felicia." He leaned back, chuckling. "One woman Stephan discarded, and another he treats like a princess. Let's see what happens when they're together."
When Felicia awoke, the sky was pitch black. Instinctively reaching under her pillow for her phone, she found nothing. The realization hit her—she wasn't in her apartment; she'd been abducted.
Sitting up, Felicia recalled the camera. She faked a yawn, slipped on her shoes, and quietly headed for the door. It was just past 1:00 AM.
She wandered toward the kitchen, hoping for a late-night snack. The kitchen light was on, and a woman in a maid's uniform washed glasses at the sink.
Felicia entered, opened the refrigerator, and grabbed a bag of bread, tearing it open and beginning to eat. The woman turned, and at the sight of Felicia, her hands froze. The glass slipped, shattering loudly. Felicia looked at the maid.
The young woman possessed a decent figure, but her face was brutally scarred—deep slashes from a sharp object had left her permanently disfigured.