Page 61 of Billionaire’s Ruin

We didn’t have water, so we didn’t have blood-water either.

But Xiao Wu said it didn’t matter.

We’d been through hell together—starved, scared, and uncertain if we’d live to see another sunrise.

That was enough to count.

We knelt before the door, bowed our heads, and swore our oath.

To protect each other.

To find each other if we were ever torn apart.

To never forget.

The next morning, someone came.

They took Xiao Wu away.

And that was the last time I saw him—as a child.

This white, sterile, padded chamber was a five-star hostage facility in comparison.

No creepy crawlies. No roaches. No centuries-old cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.

There was even a toilet.

Not a cracked plastic bucket with no lid—an actual toilet. With water. And a flush.

Fuck!

Had I ever used it?

How the hell did I manage to use the bathroom while tied up?

I rubbed the sheets beneath me—smooth, dry.

That was… weirdly reassuring.

Was I wearing a diaper?

My body felt foreign, like it didn’t belong to me.

Numb. Detached.

I couldn’t feel my skin, couldn’t tell if I was clothed, couldn’t even tell where the line between my body and the bed began.

I reached down as far as the chain allowed, fumbling to check. No sign of padding. No adhesive strips.

A shaky breath escaped me. Relief.

Even in captivity, even like this, I couldn’t let go of my stupid male pride. One day, maybe, I’d be old or half-dead and have to wear one—but at least that wasn’t today.

Then it hit me.

A flash.

Hands. Someone’s hands changing me. Cleaning me up.