Delmar Monroe swept into the room an hour later, bringing with him the scent of expensive cologne and entitlement. His custom—tailored suit was immaculate, his smile condescending. He completely ignored Jennie as she offered a polite greeting, his eyes fixed solely on Arden, who was seated calmly in an armchair by the window.
He expected to see her red—eyed and broken. He expected tears, accusations, hysterics. Instead, he found her looking at him with an unnerving stillness. The desperate, pleading girl he had left here a week ago was gone. In her place was a woman whose eyes were like chips of frozen lake water.
The change threw him off. A slight frown creased his handsome face as he sat in the chair opposite her. He adjusted the knot of his silk tie, a small, habitual gesture he made when he felt the need to reassert control.
"Arden," he began, his voice oozing with false sympathy. "The doctors say you're recovering well. That's good news."
Arden didn't bother to respond to the lie. She let the silence stretch, watching him, until he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Why are you here, Delmar?" she asked. Her tone wasn't accusatory, just flat. It was the way one might ask a stranger for the time.
His mask of concern slipped, revealing a flicker of annoyance. He cleared his throat. "It's about Brenden. And Kallie."
He launched into the same well—rehearsed speech she remembered from her past life. How, during Arden's unfortunate "illness," sweet, gentle Kallie had been a pillar of support for a distraught Brenden. How they had bonded in their shared concern for her. How a "natural affection" had blossomed between them.
Arden listened, a cold, bitter amusement rising in her. They hadn't even waited for her to be declared insane before they started building the narrative for their betrayal.
"The Singleton family and our own believe it would be best for everyone if you were to graciously step aside," Delmar concluded, his tone shifting from sympathetic to demanding. "You will announce that you are breaking the engagement, and you will give them your blessing."
She met his gaze. The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the ticking of a clock on the wall.
"What if I say no?" Arden asked, her voice quiet but clear.
The smile vanished completely from Delmar's face. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the pretense of the concerned brother gone. His voice dropped, laced with a threat that was all the more chilling for its casual delivery.
"Arden, don't be difficult," he said softly. "You know your current mental state is... unstable. The doctors here are very thorough. If you were to cause a scene, if you were to seem agitated or irrational, they might conclude that your treatment needs to be extended. Indefinitely."
The words were an exact echo of the past. A cold dread, familiar and sickening, washed over her. This man, her brother, was her jailer. He was calmly, coolly, threatening to bury her alive in this white—walled tomb. Any lingering, foolish wisp of sentiment for the boy she grew up with turned to ash and blew away.
He pressed his advantage, his voice taking on a righteous, lecturing tone. "This is your own fault, you know. Your dramatics, your instability... you pushed Brenden away. Kallie has been an angel through all of this. The entire Washington social circle feels for her. She's sacrificing so much to clean up your mess."
He leaned back, confident he had her trapped. "Just agree. Behave yourself. We'll make sure you have a comfortable, quiet life. But this engagement is over. Brenden's parents have already given Kallie their blessing. This is happening, Arden, with or without your consent."
He waited for her to crumble. He waited for the tears.
Arden simply looked out the window, at the perfectly manicured lawns of her prison, her expression unreadable. She was no longer looking at him, but through him, as if he were nothing more than a ghost of a memory.
