As I made my way out of the hallway, I bumped into Mrs. Helena.
"I have been looking for you, Selina. The last guests are about to leave, come say goodbye", she said gazing at me. But there was no concern in that gaze. No warmth. Just... calculation.
I forced a smile, one that cracked at the edges. “ I can't. I think I need to lie down,” I said faintly, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m feeling… dizzy.”
Immediately, her expression turned into mock concern. “Of course, darling. Let me take you to your room.”
As we ascended the stairs in silence, my stomach twisted. My heart pounded. I could feel the trap tightening around me like invisible hands.
Mrs. Helena opened the bedroom door. “Get some rest,” she murmured, and just as I stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind me. Click. It was an unmistakable sound of a key turning in a lock.
No. No no no… I spun around, rattled the doorknob. “Mrs. Helena?” I called, panic rising in my throat. No answer. I heard her footsteps retreating down the stairs.
That wicked witch really wanted me locked away no matter what.
I hurriedly looked for the documents I had hidden in my closet. I grabbed them and put them into a small backpack together with my phone.
Without thinking I ran to the window and yanked the curtains aside. I was two stories up. I shoved the window open and climbed out into the night, the cool air hitting me like a slap.
Halfway down, the rope ladder snapped. I hit the ground hard, the shock of it knocking the wind from my lungs. Pain screamed through my arm–bruised, maybe broken but I didn't care. I pushed myself up, blood trailing down my elbow.
I jumped the small wooden fence and landed into the neighbors yard. Thankfully their gate was open and i ran into the street.
At this point, I was already feeling drowsy and my vision was blurred. My heart was racing and I was already hallucinating. Before I knew what was happening, a pair of headlights blinded me like a second sun.
SCREEECH. The impact threw me like a ragdoll and everything went dark.
When I woke up, I stirred to the soft rustle of curtains and the scent of something warm–lavender and citrus. My body ached, my muscles were stiff and sore, but the sheets beneath me were impossibly soft.
Where was I?, I wondered.
My eyes fluttered open. The room was too perfect to be familiar. Cream walls, tall windows veiled in silk, furniture that whispered old money and absolute control. Even the light felt peaceful, as if it was filtered through gold.
Panic flared in my chest. I sat up with a gasp but pain sliced through my ribs like a blade.
“Don’t,” a voice said gently.
I turned sharply and found a woman in a tailored cream coat standing at my bedside, clipboard in hand.
“You fractured a rib and bruised half your body,” the woman said calmly. “You are lucky you weren’t killed.”
I blinked, my throat was dry. “Where am i?”, I asked.
“You’re safe. Private residence. You’ve been unconscious since last night.”
The doctor reached for a small tablet on the side table.
“Vitals are stable. You should try eating soon,” she added. “He’ll want to speak with you.”
“He?”
But the doctor didn’t answer. She checked my pupils with a tiny penlight, jotted something down, and gave a single nod.
“I’ll give you a moment.”
Moments later, a housekeeper entered. She said no words, just a polite smile and set down a silver tray with fresh orange juice, toast, eggs, and tea.
I stared at it. My stomach twisted. It looked safe. But I’d learned not to trust beautiful things.
Still, the smell was too much, I couldn't resist, so I took a small sip of juice and let it settle. The warmth was grounding. My mind swirled. Then it dawned on me.
I had escaped.
Chris. Madison. Mrs. Helena. The drugged wine.
I had escaped them all.
Before I could take another breath, the door creaked open and the finest man I had ever seen walked in.
Tall. Built like he owned the air around him. Dressed in a black wool coat over a grey open-collar shirt. His presence entered the room before he did. Slowly, deliberate, dangerous.
It was the man that hit me. My chest tightened. The doctor brushed past him silently as she left. He nodded at her once, then turned his full attention to me.
For a long second, he said nothing. He just looked at me. Grey eyes. Cold. Unreadable but there was warmth in his eyes.
“I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you,” he said finally.
His voice was smoother than I had imagined, very deep and precise, like every word had weight. “You ran out into the road. Bloodied, dressed like a bride in flight.”
A flash of memory sent a jolt through me. I clutched the sheets tighter.
He walked closer, slow and measured.
“I’m Darian Thorne.”
On hearing the name, My breath caught.
That name.
Thorne.
Chris had raged about that name once. Drunk. He said he was a “monster in a suit,” said he would be finished if Thorne ever sniffed too close.
My heart was thudding as I looked at him. The man Chris fears like the devil himself.
But he didn’t look like a devil.
No. He looked like Peace. Like Power.
I should’ve been terrified. A few days ago, I would have been.
But now, after everything– after the betrayal, the whispers in the study…my fear twisted into something else.
The man Chris feared was standing in front of me. And suddenly, for the first time in what felt like years,
I didn’t feel small. I felt dangerous.
Darian watched me closely.
“My name is familiar, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.
I didn’t answer.
But something flickered in my eyes—just enough for him to know he was right.
"I didn't try to run a background check on you, even though you looked like you were running from something but I trust we would get to know each other when the time is right".
And with that, he turned and left the room.
