Your Regrets Mean Nothing To Me novel Chapter 5

The stream jumped to another scene. "Two escapes in three days." Lyra's fingers tightened in warning. "Try again, and you'll wish for the cattle pen."

She studied Elysia on the bed, greed darkening her eyes as she took in the beauty dirt had hidden. The hunger in her gaze threatened to swallow the little girl whole.

When Elysia instinctively shrank back, a sharp crack split the air.

"Still defiant?" Lyra spat.

"No! I'll be good," Elysia whispered, her voice trembling. "Just please tell my parents where I am. They must be so—"

The second slap sent her sprawling.

"Parents?" Lyra sneered. "I'm your mother now. Someone paid thirty thousand dollars for your life. You should thank me for keeping you breathing. Forget about your family—that's nothing but a dream now."

Elysia curled into herself, tears blurring her vision. Her four-year-old mind couldn't grasp what it meant for someone to "buy her life." She only knew what her brother had always said—bad children get taken away, never to see their families again.

'But I was good,' she thought. 'I dressed myself, ate properly, slept alone. I always listened to Mom and Dad and my brothers. Why did the bad people still take me?'

"Fenwick," she whispered through her tears, "you promised if I listened to you, bad people wouldn't come."

In the studio, the words struck Fenwick like physical blows. He'd wielded that threat so casually, never realizing how deeply she'd taken it to heart.

His fans fell silent while other viewers continued commenting.

[I thought my display was malfunctioning when everything got blurry. Then I realized—those were her tears. Now I'm about to cry too.]

[That slap felt real through the screen. God, poor Elysia.]

[Are we glossing over the fact that someone bought her life?]

Lyra's words also sparked a chilling realization throughout the stream—someone had located Elysia within twenty-four hours and arranged her murder.

In the studio, blood vessels stood out in Torin's eyes as he gripped his chair. Not ransom, but murder. Thirty thousand dollars was all it took to reveal humanity's darkest face.

[This trafficker actually has a bit of conscience. At worst they're a little harsh—it's Elysia who doesn't know when she's got it good!]

Lyra's next words shattered that delusion with brutal efficiency. "Can't sell her yet—her face is plastered everywhere. Better wait till she's older. With looks like that? Rich men will throw money at us."

Outrage buried the trafficking apologist in the chat feed.