Choosing Austin's True Love

I stumbled back to my room, my vision blurred by tears I refused to let fall. The narrow staircase to the servants' quarters felt endless as each step echoed the words that had shattered my world.

"Plaything."

The word followed me like a shadow, slipping under the door of my tiny room and settling over me as I collapsed onto the thin mattress. Three years. Three years of washing his clothes, cooking his meals, warming his bed—all for nothing.

My room was barely larger than a closet, tucked away in the far corner of the Wallace estate where Royce wouldn't have to see it. The walls were bare except for a small, faded photograph of my mother—the only possession I'd managed to bring with me when Royce rescued me from that terrible night.

Rescued. The word mocked me now.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill over. "You're so stupid, Kenna," I whispered to myself. "So stupid to think he would ever love you."

Memories flooded back—Royce's cold eyes when I'd first arrived, the way he'd looked through me rather than at me. The nights I'd spent learning exactly how he liked his coffee, his shirts pressed, his meals prepared. The times I'd flinched when he raised his voice, only to apologize for making him angry.

And then there was Austin.

The memory of him hit me like a physical blow—his gentle hands, his promises that seemed so distant now. "I'll always protect you, Kenna," he'd said when we were sixteen, his arms around me as we watched fireflies dance in the summer air. "No matter what happens, I'll find you."

But I'd moved away, and Austin had disappeared from my life, and then came that night—the night Royce had saved me. Or so I thought.

I curled into a ball on my bed, clutching the thin blanket around my shoulders. Sleep wouldn't come, only images of Royce's face as he laughed with his friends, discussing me as if I were a toy to be passed around.

Morning arrived with gray light filtering through the small window. I hadn't slept. My eyes burned, and my chest felt hollow as I forced myself to rise and begin my daily routine.

I was in the kitchen, mechanically preparing Royce's breakfast, when the doorbell rang. The sound was unusual—most of Royce's friends used the side entrance, and it was too early for deliveries.

I wiped my hands on my apron and moved through the silent house to answer the door.

"Austin?"

The name escaped my lips before I could stop it. Standing on the doorstep was Austin Reed—tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair shorter than I remembered but his eyes exactly the same. Those kind eyes that had once looked at me like I was precious.

"Kenna," he breathed, his face paling as he took me in. "My God, what has he done to you?"

I stepped back instinctively, suddenly conscious of my worn dress, my uncombed hair, the shadows under my eyes. "How did you find me?"

"It took months," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. His gaze swept over the grand foyer, then back to me. "I've been looking for you since I heard what happened."

He reached for my hand, and I flinched away. His expression darkened. "Kenna, let me help you. This isn't right—none of this is right."

"I need to finish breakfast," I said, turning away. "Mr. Wallace will be up soon."

"Stop calling him that," Austin said, his voice sharp with anger. "And stop acting like his servant. This isn't you, Kenna. Where's the girl who used to climb trees with me? Who wasn't afraid of anything?"

"She's gone," I whispered.

"No," Austin said firmly. "She's not. She's still in there, and I'm going to help her find her way back."

Later that morning, when Royce had left for work and the house was quiet, Austin found me in the gardens. I was picking herbs for lunch, my back to him as he approached.

"Kenna," he said softly. "We need to talk."

I turned, clutching a bunch of parsley to my chest like a shield. "About what?"

"About you leaving here," he said, stepping closer. "Today. With me."

I shook my head, backing away. "I can't just leave."

"Why not?" Austin demanded, his eyes flashing. "Do you know what he's doing to you? What he's turned you into?"

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I said, my voice barely audible.

"Yes, you do," Austin insisted. "You have me. You've always had me."

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "Please go, Austin."

"Not without you," he said firmly, reaching for my hand again. "Kenna, please. Let me help you."