Chapter 7 Empty

• VICTORIA WASHINGTON ;
• I felt a warmth settle inside me, so comforting that a small smile tugged at my lips. The only reason to wake up at all was my growing hunger. I licked my lips, already imagining the taste of a delicious chicken wrap.
• “Get up!” A sharp kick to my rear sent me tumbling onto the cold floor. I winced as I scrambled to my feet, only to meet Vincenzo’s furious glare.
• “If you’re going to play housewife, at least try doing something…” His voice was icy as I slowly stood up.
• This man had a knack for ruining my peace.
• “Well, it’s not that late, is it? Stop acting like a child,” I retorted with an exaggerated eye roll. He scoffed.
• “Not that late? It’s past noon. And would you care to explain why I found you passed out on the couch in the villa with a knife under my pillow? What the hell were you thinking, some sort of safety precaution?”
• "Well, if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing. I thought maybe you were part of some kind of cult... you know, killing people," I stammered, trying to justify my suspicions.
• "What in the—"
• "Don! Don, there's an emergency!" a voice shouted from the corridor outside. I froze, startled by the unexpected intrusion. This place was supposed to be discreet, not bustling with people.
• His sharp eyes narrowed for a second, then softened, but his tone was an absolute command. "Stay put. Don’t move." It wasn’t a request—it was an order, like I had no choice but to obey. Like I was nothing more than his puppet, there to dance at his will.
• The moment he left the room, I released a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My hand instinctively reached for my chest, trying to calm the pounding in my heart.
• "I need a bath," I mumbled to myself, eyeing the bathroom a few steps away. As I walked toward it, I couldn't help but marvel at the sheer luxury surrounding me. The whole bedroom was a testament to obscene wealth.
• The black interior design screamed old money—timeless yet imposing. The vases, the art on the walls, even the damn floor—all of it reeked of expensive taste. It wasn’t just rich; it was the kind of wealth that could buy countries, and I was beginning to realize that Vincenzo wasn’t just well-off. He was powerful.
• I was curious, no, desperate to know just how rich this man actually was. I scanned the room for my phone. After a moment of searching, I spotted it on the nightstand.
• Sitting down on the plush velvet chair, I quickly unlocked my phone and typed "Vincenzo Volkov" into the search bar.
• The results left me breathless. Vincenzo Volkov wasn’t just wealthy—he was Vincenzo Volkov, the third richest young billionaire in Russia, with influence stretching across continents. CEO of multiple companies, a major shareholder in industries I couldn’t even pronounce, and his family? The Volkovs had their hands in everything—banking, real estate, tech...the list went on.
• I leaned back in the chair, fanning myself as I scrolled through articles detailing his net worth, his power, his reach. Holy crap, I thought, feeling a rush of excitement—and fear. What had I gotten myself into?
• "On second thought, this marriage isn't so bad," I giggled, putting down my phone. Humming a little tune, I headed into the bathroom, feeling a rush of excitement.
• "Oh, happy day... old money, old money..." I sang to myself, thinking about all the wealth that came with being married to someone like Vincenzo.
• As the warm water from the shower hit my skin, I felt all my stress wash away. I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in days, I felt genuinely happy. The thought of being connected to all that money, the luxury, the power... maybe this wasn’t such a terrible situation after all.
• When I got out, I wrapped a soft towel around myself, still humming. I felt light, carefree. Dancing around the room, I laughed at how ridiculous everything seemed.
• I walked over to the wardrobe, expecting to find something beautiful and expensive to wear. But when I opened it, all I saw were black clothes—black polos, black pants, and nothing else. No dresses. No color. Just black.
• "Seriously?" I mumbled, pulling out one of the black polos. It wasn’t what I had in mind, but I shrugged. I wasn’t going to let it ruin my mood. Slipping it on, I decided not to think too hard about it. Maybe he just liked black.
• "I hope he doesn't get mad. I mean, I'm his wife now, right? Sharing his clothes is part of the deal," I muttered under my breath. "He should've thought about that before bringing me here with nothing."
• Still, I needed something to wear underneath, like boxers or pants. I glanced around the room but couldn’t spot anything resembling an underwear drawer. That was weird. What kind of man doesn’t have his underwear easily accessible? He had to wear them, right?
• As I continued to wonder, my eyes landed on a small door I hadn’t noticed before. Curious, I walked over and opened it, stepping inside—and froze.
• "Oh my God," I gasped.
• It was a room full of dresses. Rows upon rows of them, like I had just walked into a private boutique. Shoes, watches, suits, accessories—everything was perfectly arranged, and it all looked so expensive, like it belonged in a high-end store.
• "This... this is like a shopping mall," I whispered in awe.
• I rushed inside, pulling out dresses, admiring the shoes, touching the sleek fabrics of the suits. Everything was incredible. The only thing was... it was all black. Every single piece. Black dresses, black suits, black shoes. It was like stepping into a closet made for someone in eternal mourning.
• But I didn’t care. The luxury of it all still enchanted me.
• I just grabbed an underwear and carefully put everything else back in its place, making sure nothing looked out of order. The last thing I needed was for anyone to think I was snooping around. As I stepped out of the room, I couldn't help but feel a bit like a thief, even though I technically hadn’t stolen anything. The whole place was too perfect, too cold.
• Back in the bedroom, I made the bed, brushed my teeth, and went through the usual morning routine, but my mind kept wandering. The fact that every single piece of clothing in that massive closet was black still felt odd. Who needed that much black? Everything about this house screamed luxury, but it was unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite explain.
• I stepped out of the bedroom, only to flinch as I saw security guards stationed at every turn. Every few steps, there was another one—dressed in all black, with black sunglasses, standing so still they looked like statues. My stomach churned as I walked past them, feeling like something could go wrong at any moment.
• "Oh my goodness..." I muttered under my breath, glancing around. Just a few steps, and I’d run into another guard. It was impossible to count them all. Why did Vincenzo need this much security? It was like he was preparing for a war.
• I shook my head. "I don’t need to care about that jerk. Let me at least find the kitchen and get something to eat."
• Lost in thought, I wandered down the long hallway but had no idea where the kitchen was. Frustrated, I approached one of the guards.
• "Hey, um... where can I find the kitchen?" I asked, but he didn’t even flinch, just stood there facing the other direction.
• "Excuse me, that was kind of rude. Where’s the kitchen?" I repeated, stepping in front of him, but he turned again, completely ignoring me.
• "Unbelievable," I muttered angrily, cursing under my breath as I stormed off. The house was so massive, I was sure I’d get lost before finding anything.
• After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, I finally spotted a maid.
• "Hey! Hey, you!" I called, hurrying over. She flinched when she saw me, like she was expecting something terrible to happen.
• "Where's the kitchen?" I asked, my voice
• a little sharper than I intended. She bowed her head in respect, barely meeting my eyes.
• This place just kept getting weirder.