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Sold To The Monster: My Silent Nightmare Novel Cover

Sold To The Monster: My Silent Nightmare

I’ve spent eighteen hundred days as a silent ghost in the Crawford estate, a place where the air smells of expensive cigars and terror. My father, Senator Jed Bowen, sold me to Alek Crawford to pay off his gambling debts, trading his daughter’s life for a seat in the Senate. Alek doesn’t just want my service; he wants my complete submission. He tracks my every move through cameras and bruises my skin just to see if I’ll flinch. He thinks he owns me because he holds the contract, and his mother ensures I’m kept in my place with slaps and insults. When a scandal involving my half-sister and Alek’s brother hit the news, the house turned into a war zone. Alek cornered me in the dark, his hands stained with blood and ink, whispering that I was nothing but a receipt for his family's money. He’s been forcing me to take pills for years, believing they’ve kept me drugged and mute. "She needs to speak again," he told a surgeon over the phone. "Whatever it takes." He thinks he’s fixing a broken toy, but he’s actually planning to carve the silence into my throat permanently. He has no idea that I’ve been switching those pills for years, or that I’m more awake and more dangerous than he could ever imagine. I’ve endured the biting cold and the crushing weight of his obsession, waiting for a single sign that my nightmare could end. Tonight, a secret message reached me in the rain, confirming that the only man I ever loved has finally finished his mission. Kole is coming back for me. The contract review is tomorrow, but I’m not planning on signing anything. I’m planning on taking back everything they stole from me, starting with my voice.
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Chapter 8

"Upstairs."

Alek didn't wait for the staff to disperse. He turned and walked toward the grand staircase.

Eva held the bloody towel in one hand, the ruined club in the other. She followed him. She had no choice.

In the master bedroom, Alek stripped off his jacket and let it drop to the floor. It landed with a heavy, wet thud.

"Bath," he muttered. He walked to the liquor cabinet and poured a drink, his hands shaking slightly.

Eva went into the bathroom. She set the club down in the corner. She turned on the water, her mind racing.

11:30 PM.

She needed to get out.

She tested the water temperature. Hot. Scalding. Just how he liked it.

Alek entered the bathroom. He had removed his shirt. His chest was heaving.

He walked up behind her.

Eva froze as his arms circled her waist. He was heavy, leaning on her.

He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply.

"Quiet," he mumbled against her skin. "Everything is so loud. But you... you are quiet."

His hands moved up. His thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts through the rough fabric of her uniform.

Eva went rigid. She grabbed the edge of the marble tub.

This was different. He wasn't just angry. He was needy. And that was more dangerous.

His fingers fumbled with the top button of her dress.

"No," she mouthed.

She spun around. She placed her hands on his bare chest and pushed. Hard.

Alek stumbled back. His hip hit the sink.

He looked at her, blinking. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by a dark, wounded anger.

He grabbed her hand and slammed it against his heart.

"Feel that?" he hissed. "You think you're better than me? You're just payment, Eva. A receipt."

Eva shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

Alek lunged.

He crushed his mouth against hers. He tasted of whiskey and iron.

It wasn't a kiss. It was an assault.

Eva panicked. Instinct took over.

She bit down. Hard.

She felt the skin of his lip burst.

Alek jerked back with a grunt of pain. He brought his hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, his fingers were red.

He stared at the blood on his hand. Then he looked at her.

He smiled.

It was a terrifying, broken smile.

"Finally," he whispered. "A reaction."

Eva didn't wait. She bolted.

She ran out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and into the hall.

"Eva!" Alek roared behind her.

She didn't run toward the staff quarters. She ran toward the west wing. Toward the terrace.

She burst through the side door.

The storm had broken. Rain lashed against her face, cold and violent.

She ran into the night.

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