The guest powder room on the second floor was quiet.
Ivy locked the door. She leaned against the sink, staring at herself.
The pinch on her arm throbbed.
The door handle rattled.
"Open it," Claudia's voice came from the other side.
Ivy closed her eyes. She unlocked the door.
Claudia slipped inside. She locked it behind her.
She didn't say a word. She raised her hand and slapped Ivy across the face.
The sound was like a gunshot in the small tiled room.
Ivy's head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned.
"Stupid girl," Claudia hissed. "Threatening Clive? Are you insane?"
"He was hurting me," Ivy said, her hand cupping her cheek.
"He owns you!" Claudia shouted, though she kept her voice to a whisper-scream. "Until that ring is on your finger and those papers are signed, you are property. You don't threaten the buyer!"
Claudia pulled out her phone.
She tapped the screen and held it up.
It was a video. A grainy feed from a room. A hospital room? Or a dorm room.
A young girl was sitting on a bed, staring out the window. She looked thin. Frail.
"Lucia," Ivy breathed. Her real sister, the only other survivor of the Maldonado family's ruin. Claudia had "rescued" her from the foster system years ago, a supposed act of kindness that had turned into a gilded cage. Lucia was her heart, and Claudia held it in her fist.
"She hasn't been eating well," Claudia said casually. "The doctors say she needs… specialized care. Very expensive care."
Ivy grabbed Claudia's wrist. "Don't hurt her. Please. I'll do anything."
"Then stop fighting back," Claudia snapped. She put the phone away.
She reached into her purse and then turned to the ornate vanity. She opened a small, lacquered drawer and pulled out a thin, black riding crop. It was clearly kept here for this purpose.
"Turn around."
Ivy's stomach twisted. No. Not here.
"Turn around!"
Ivy turned. She gripped the edge of the marble sink. She lowered her head.
Claudia unzipped the back of the blue dress.
The first strike hit her shoulder blades.
Ivy bit her tongue to keep from screaming.
The second strike hit lower.
It wasn't about the pain. It was about the humiliation. The reminder that she was a child. A stray dog that had been taken in and could be beaten at will.
Five strikes.
"That's enough," Claudia said. She was breathing hard.
She zipped up the dress.
"Fix your face. You have two minutes."
Claudia left.
Ivy sank to the floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees. Her back was on fire.
She wanted to burn the world down.
She stood up. She splashed cold water on her face. She applied concealer to the red mark on her cheek.
She opened the door.
Hank was standing there.
Ivy jumped.
Hank held out a small silver tube.
"Boss says this helps with the swelling," he grunted.
Ivy stared at the tube.
Bruno knew?
How?
Cameras? Or did he just know Claudia?
She took the tube. It was cold metal.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Hank nodded and walked away.
Ivy unscrewed the cap. It smelled of arnica and mint.
She reached back and dabbed it on her shoulder where the crop had cut the skin.
It stung, then cooled.
Bruno wasn't saving her. He was patching her up so she could go back into the ring.
He wanted a fighter.
Ivy capped the tube and put it in her clutch.
She walked down the stairs.
