Michelle saw the color drain from his face. "Hey, are you okay?"

Milo didn’t answer. His mind was a storm of fear. He looked at the door, half-expecting Nero to burst through and drag him away.

In the living room, the atmosphere was a sharp contrast to the warm kitchen. Salvatore sat on the sofa, looking perfectly relaxed as he sipped a cup of black coffee.

Nero sat down on the sofa by the fireplace, his posture stiff, his eyes darting around the room with impatience.

"I need him back, Salvatore," Nero said, his voice tight.

"I told you. He stays here," Salvatore replied simply. He didn’t even look up from his cup.

"No way," Nero snapped. "He’s been here all night. That’s enough."

"Well, Nero, did you give him to me as a gift? You shouldn’t take a gift back. It’s so rude."

"What?" Nero was shocked, his composure slipping. "It was for one night."

Salvatore set his cup down with a soft clink. "My bad. As I understand it, a ’gift’ is something you give to someone, not something you lend. I have accepted the gift, and I intend to keep it."

Nero stared at him, his jaw muscles tensing. "Are you serious? You really won’t give him back?"

Salvatore shook his head. "No. He is mine now."

Nero’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I hope you’re joking. He’s MY man. He belongs to me. Please, Salvatore, let’s be reasonable. I need to bring him home."

"Go home," Salvatore said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. "He won’t be leaving this house."

Nero was speechless for a moment. He let out a short, dry laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Salvatore, are you serious? You’re going to start a conflict over a slave?"

"Well, I don’t know which slave you’re referring to," Salvatore said. "He is my man now. I will not give him to anyone else."

Nero felt his stomach tighten with fury. "I’ll give you money. Name your price. Just give him back to me."

Salvatore looked at him with a cold, mocking smile. "I don’t need your money, Nero. You still owe me for what we gave you, anyway. But I won’t trade my precious things for cash."

Nero’s mouth fell open. "Precious? You’re calling him precious? No, no way. Don’t do this, Salvatore. Don’t play these games with me."

Salvatore’s eyes drifted to the iron collar Nero was holding, the one he had intended to put on Milo. Salvatore smirked. "I think you need to go buy yourself a new dog, Nero. This one is taken."

Nero’s face turned a deep, angry red. "Fine. Did you even ask him? Bring him here. Let’s ask Milo what he wants. Let him choose."

"No. He’s sleeping." Salvatore lied smoothly.

He knew Milo would immediately kneel and follow the man the moment he saw him. He didn’t want to deal with any drama right now.

"What? Wake him up!" Nero yelled. "I know he’s awake! He never sleeps this late!"

"No, you have no say in my house," Salvatore said. "You can leave whenever you’re ready."

Nero was about to explode when his eyes drifted toward the hallway. He saw a shadow moving against the wall. Milo was standing there, partially hidden, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror.

Nero’s anger vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. "Ah. Here we are. My good boy."

Salvatore followed Nero’s gaze and saw Milo standing there, trembling. Salvatore didn’t look annoyed. He just smirked.

"Come here, Milo." Salvatore motioned with his hand.

Milo gulped. He felt like he was walking toward a firing squad. He stepped into the living room, his bare feet silent on the floor.

At that moment, the front doors opened and Roderick entered, followed by Alben, talking loudly. They both stopped when they saw the tension in the living room.

Roderick’s eyes went to Salvatore, checking for a signal, while Alben took in the scene with a look of pure amusement.

Alben didn’t wait for an introduction. He walked over and sat on the sofa right between Salvatore and Nero. He looked at Nero and smirked. "I know you. You’re Hartley, right?"

Nero, whose focus was entirely on Milo, blinked and looked at Alben. "Yes. Do I know you?"

"I’m sure you don’t," Alben said, his voice light and annoying. "You have no reason to know me. But I know plenty about you."

Alben looked at Salvatore, then at Milo. He saw the gold rings on Milo’s chest through the thin shirt and realized Nero was the one who had put them there.

Alben’s eyes glinted. He sensed a great deal of entertainment coming his way. He looked at Nero, finding the man’s arrogance almost attractive in a twisted way.

Nero ignored Alben and looked back at Milo. "Milo. Come. We’re going home."

Milo gulped. He looked at Salvatore, desperate for a sign, but Salvatore remained silent, watching. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

Milo’s knees felt like they were going to buckle. He looked at Nero, who was staring at him with a murderous, possessive glare. The thirteen years of conditioning were screaming in Milo’s head.

"You know what will happen if you make me angry, Milo," Nero said, his voice low and threatening.

Milo felt the air leave his lungs. He took a small, shaky step toward Nero.

Nero looked at Salvatore with a grin of victory. He was sure Milo would never defy him. He felt like he was on top of the world again.

"Get down, Milo," Nero commanded. "Show Mr. Portello who you truly belong to."

Milo looked at Alben, who was watching him with a curious, small smile. He knew he wouldn’t get help from him.

Then he looked at Salvatore. The man said nothing either.

If he stayed, would Salvatore be hurt? Nero was a monster, he didn’t want Salvatore to suffer because of him.

He looked down.

"Milo?" Nero sounded impatient.

Milo trembled, struggling to breathe. His hands were shaking.

Hah... Hah... Hah...

He felt like he was suffocating.

Milo had no choice. He began to lower himself, his knees bending until they touched the floor.