A/N: I am already working on the next installment. I am sorry this is a bit of a shorter chapter but I wanted to post now instead of making you wait. The next chapter should be coming soon :) As always, thank you for reading!


Christian Grey led Ana by the hand out of the great room. She was not sure at first where he was taking her until he moved down the hallway that led to his personal bedroom, the one room in the penthouse she'd not seen yet. He paused outside the door briefly and turned to her, his grey eyes assessing her shrewdly. He looked like he was making his mind up about something. Finally he nodded, more to himself than to her. His decision made, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his set of keys, unlocking the door to his bedroom.

He opened the door and gestured for her to enter first. She did so and he entered as well, shutting the door behind them. His bedroom was easily the size of most studio apartments by itself, immaculately decorated like the rest of the apartment in chromes and blacks and whites. A kind-bed adorned the center of the room, and a small sofa sat in the corner of the room. The far wall was all windows, like in her room, and the view of the Seattle skyline was truly spectacular.

Still, there was nothing extraordinary about the bedroom and she was not entirely sure why he brought her here. She turned around to look at him, the unspoken question all over her face. He did not address her right away instead moving to his chest of drawers. He pulled open the left drawer. Inside, a tie box with an array of silk ties organized all in shades of grey organized from darkest to lightest, unsurprisingly boring in his color-palette. Grey lifted the tie box up and out of the drawer, setting it on top of the chest of drawers. Underneath, hidden carefully, was a simple silver picture frame, faced down. He picked it up reverently and held it to his chest as he turned back to face her.

"You wanted to know why I am doing the things I am doing, Anastasia. You seem unwilling to accept my help without further explanation. This is not something I share with anyone. This is not something I want to share with you. But I do understand your reticence and desire to know more. I am trusting you with the information I am about to share." Every word out of his mouth felt forced, and deliberate. He was incredibly uncomfortable but he was forcing himself to continue anyway for her benefit. He lifted the picture frame from his chest and gazed down at it. Ana watched his facial features like a hawk. He looked anguished. He touched the photo in the frame briefly before taking a deep breath and handing it to her.

Ana took the photo gently, and looked down at it. Inside the frame, there were three people. Ana recognized a young teenager version of Christian Grey immediately. He looked bout 13 or 14 years old, his coppery hair a bit longer in the photo than it was now, his face somber and wearing a solemn frown. He was staring resolutely at the camera in the photo. To his left was a slightly taller boy, about 16, if Ana were to guess, blonde and with a more carefree smile gracing his relaxed features. He too was staring resolutely at the camera, his hand resting on the shoulder of a young girl who stood in front of and in-between the two boys. The girl had the biggest smile of the three, she looked no older than 10 or 11, her hair a dark brown, long and wavy, and her bright blue eyes looked almost too big for her face. She had one arm wrapped around Christian's legs, the other wrapped around the blonde boys. They were clearly close, the three of them, siblings if Ana had to guess, which meant that the blonde boy would be Elliot Grey, the ever-elusive brother that Christian had mentioned multiple times. The girl was a puzzle though, Grey had not once mentioned a sister. The photo, he kept hidden underneath his ties in a false bottom of his drawer instead of displayed anywhere where someone could admire it. This photo was special to him, but it only created more questions for her.

Ana looked up from the photo and back to Grey's face. He had the same solemn frown, almost a mirror image of the younger version of him she'd just been admiring in the photo.

"This is your brother Elliot?" She asked the easy question first, touching the image of the blonde and looking to him for confirmation. He nodded silently.

"And this is…." She trailed off, touching the image of the young girl next.

"That…was my Sister. Mia. Her name was Mia."

"Was...?" The past tense had not escaped her. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, and the mystery that was Christian Grey was beginning to appear just a little clearer. But she wanted him to tell her.

Christian sighed and moved to the sofa in the room, sitting heavily. He gestured for her to sit as well. She did so, sitting on the edge of the bed, still holding the photograph. Once they were both seated, he spoke.

"My father had three children. My brother Elliot was born first his mother was my father's wife, she died in child birth unexpectedly we never knew her. I was born second, my mother was a slave and prostitute of my father's. I was not allowed to know her. I do not know what happened to her but I believe she too is dead. When I was 5 years old, and Elliot was seven, our sister Mia was born, her mother a low-level Mistress who had hoped to curry my father's favor by baring his third child. Her ploy had not worked, and when he refused to take her as his wife she attempted a short-lived coup and was killed as well. Mia knew none of this, of course."

"Mia was…a jewel. Elliot and I adored her. My father used to scold Elliot and me when we were young for doting on her too much. She was our princess. We were kids, you know, we knew what my father did and we knew his associates…but we didn't really know…. Not really, not until we were older. And that's when things got… bad. "

"My father wanted heirs, he wanted an empire. When Elliot was 14 and I was 12, he made us watch him whip and then rape a girl about your age, Anastasia. He told us to watch and to learn. He called her cattle. Said all slaves just needed to be broken, and we were to learn how to break them too. So we could lead in his wake. After he was finished with her, he made Elliot and me each take a swing at her with a flogger. Elliot cried. I… I did as my father asked. "Christian looked away from her then, his brow furrowed. His eyes glazed over, he was clearly lost in the memory.

"Elliot and I grew much more distant after that. He actively rebelled against my father's wishes. Or else did the bare minimum my father asked. I …I excelled. I was good at it…I liked it…I think." He shuddered, clearly disturbed by his past actions.

"Mia was still too young, too innocent to know anything had changed. When Elliot was 16 and I was 14, my father took us to our first auction. I remember looking at the people who were brought in not as victims, but…but as commodities. My father was pleased. Elliott was disgusted. It wasn't until later, in private, when Elliott and I talked that I thought maybe it was wrong."

"When Elliot turned 18, my father threw him a birthday party. His present that year was his own personal slave, giftwrapped and everything. Elliott was furious, but he had no choice but to accept, and to perform, show his gratitude in front of the other Masters and Mistresses in attendance at the party. Mia and I were both required to attend…she was…11 at the time. That party was to be Mia's introduction to our world.

"My father wanted Mia to follow in our footsteps. He wanted her to be a Domme. But she… she just didn't have it in her. He tried the same tactics he'd used with my brother, with me…but Mia couldn't manage. She was uncoordinated, she was docile, sweet. I don't think she had a single sadistic bone in her body – to ask her to cause someone else pain…. It went against her very nature" He shook his head, composing himself, and continued. "And as she grew, she grew into a beautiful young woman."

"When Mia turned 16, my father threw her the most extravagant birthday party I've ever seen. Elliot and I were required to attend, though Elliot had moved out of Seattle by then. Mia was dressed in this stunning Versace gown. I can still…still see her…? At 16, showing off her new dress, still so sweet even though you would think it impossible given the man who raised her."

"My father had always indulged in her fancies so it wasn't surprising that he'd go to these lengths for a birthday, but something felt off to me. I know Elliot sensed it too. Mia didn't have many friends outside my father's circle – None of us did – so most of the guests in attendance were other high-ranking Masters and Mistresses, friends of my father, acquaintances Elliot and I were forced to associate with in our business and private lives. No one I'd care to be alone in a room with if I could avoid it. The party air just felt…wrong for a teenager's birthday."

Christian took a breath to compose himself. He was still not looking at Ana.

"My sister's 16th birthday was the day my father decided to disown her. She couldn't be what he wanted. So he was going to make her suffer. He…Elliot and I tried to stop them, we tried to protect Mia, we did…but there were too many of them…My father allowed them to tear Mia's dress to shreds, to string her up…punish her, while he forced my brother and I to watch. And I…I couldn't…I couldn't save her."

Christian paused again then. It was as if he wanted the words to come but couldn't force them out. Ana could see the tears in his eyes when he looked out the window at the Seattle skyline.

"After that night my father had Mia sold at auction. It took me 6 months to track her down. Elliot was beside himself. When we did finally find her it was worse than we'd hoped. She'd been sold to a sex club in the Czech Republic. Elliot and I flew out as soon as we were able. We were lucky. The club owners didn't know who we were. We were rich, and we were American, and we wanted to make a purchase. We got Mia out of there but we couldn't take her home." Christian sighed long and hard.

"We knew it wouldn't be safe for her in Seattle, so Elliot set up offices for his construction company in Paris , under the guise of expanding his business. We set Mia up with a false identity, as a French citizen living there. She was the first….she was the first victim of my father's I wanted to help – and I helped her too late. I should have done more sooner. I should never have let him do what he did….After Mia, I knew I couldn't go along with his wishes anymore."

'Elliot and I have a system now. He lives abroad primarily, returning to Seattle only when Father demands it. We each have our roles to play, I am my father's heir apparent, and Elliot is more the black sheep, though he is still considered a high ranked Master under my father, which grants him certain protections. We do not speak of Mia. Ever. But she is safe. And her safety is dependent on my ability to go undetected. I cannot go to the police, my father owns the police. If what I was doing got out, in any way, it would lead them back to her, and I have vowed that no more harm will come to her. Ever. Do you see now, Anastasia, why I cannot do more? This game we are playing is far too dangerous for all parties involved. And I am sorry, I am sorry that this may seem callous, but I will not risk my sister's safety for anyone or anything."

Ana was speechless. She looked at the man sitting before her, then back down to the photograph in her lap, then back to the man. He was raw, and tense. She stood from where she'd sat perched on his bed and approached him cautiously. She offered the photo back to him wordlessly and he took it returning it to the false bottom of the drawer before placing his tie box back over it, keeping it hidden and safe.

"If you will excuse me, Miss Steele. I have some work I need to attend to." Christian fled the room and she let him.

Ana was reeling. The story Christian told made her heart clench for the man, and his siblings. What they'd gone through. They were all slaves, trapped in lives they had not wished for and did not want. Carrick Grey was a sick man. He'd sold his own daughter into a life of pain and misery as a show of power. He'd forced his sons to commit atrocities for fear of the same fate. He was the ring leader, the high master, the organizer. He was the lynch pen. And Ana wanted nothing more than to take him out herself.