The door closed behind me with a heavy final sound.
Click.
That single sound echoed louder than anything else in the mansion.
I stood still.
Waiting.
Hoping it would open again.
It didn't.
I rushed forward immediately, grabbing the handle.
I twisted it hard.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
"No… no, this can't be happening," I whispered, shaking the handle now. "Open the door!"
Still nothing.
My heart began to pound faster as I stepped back slowly, staring at it like it had betrayed me.
He locked me in.
The reality hit harder than the rain that had soaked my skin earlier.
I turned around sharply, scanning the room like I could find an escape hidden in the walls.
There had to be another way out.
There always was.
Rich people didn't usually trap people like criminals… did they?
My eyes landed on a massive window on the far side of the room.
I hurried toward it immediately.
Hope flickered in my chest for the first time since I entered this house.
I pulled the curtain aside—
And froze.
The window stretched from floor to ceiling, revealing a breathtaking view of the mansion's garden outside. Soft lights illuminated pathways, flowers, and perfectly trimmed hedges.
It looked like a dream.
But dreams always had traps hidden inside them.
I stepped closer and pressed my hand against the glass.
Cold.
Real.
Then I saw it.
Thin iron bars were built into the design—hidden so carefully they almost looked like part of the frame.
My breath caught in my throat.
"No…" I whispered again, stepping back slowly.
This wasn't just a window.
It was a message.
There is no way out.
My chest tightened as I looked around the room again, this time noticing things I didn't see before.
The expensive furniture.
The perfectly arranged curtains.
The soft lighting that made everything feel warm… too warm.
It wasn't a guest room.
It was prepared.
For someone specific.
For me.
A chill ran down my spine.
I wasn't invited here.
I was expected.
A sudden knock broke the silence.
I flinched hard.
My eyes snapped toward the door.
For a moment, I hesitated.
Then I forced myself to speak.
"Who is it?" I asked, my voice sharper than I felt.
Silence.
Then his voice.
Low. Calm. Controlled.
"Amara."
My body reacted instantly.
Alexander.
Just hearing him made something inside me tighten—fear, anger, confusion… all tangled together.
"What do you want?" I snapped immediately, trying to sound stronger than I felt.
There was a pause.
Then—
"You're still in wet clothes."
I blinked.
I looked down at myself again.
My dress was still damp, clinging slightly to my skin, reminding me of everything that had happened before I entered this house.
"I don't care," I said quickly.
Another pause.
Then his voice returned, quieter this time.
"You will."
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Then silence again.
He was gone.
Just like that.
I stood there confused, my chest rising and falling quickly.
Why did he care about that?
Why anything at all?
Minutes later, I heard the door unlock.
My eyes widened immediately.
It opened slightly—but no one entered.
Instead, a woman stepped in carefully.
She looked calm, but not relaxed. There was something cautious in her movements, like she was always aware of unseen rules.
"I brought clothes for you," she said politely.
I crossed my arms immediately.
"I didn't ask for anything."
She nodded slightly, placing a tray on the table near the bed.
"I know," she replied simply.
I frowned.
"Then why are you here?"
She hesitated for a second too long.
Then lowered her voice slightly.
"Because someone else already decided you needed them."
My stomach tightened.
Of course.
Alexander Blackwood.
The woman avoided eye contact as she turned to leave.
"Wait," I called out.
She stopped, but didn't turn fully.
"What is this place?" I asked.
A long silence followed.
Then she answered carefully.
"A place where questions are not always answered."
And with that, she left.
The door closed behind her softly.
Too softly.
Like everything in this house was designed to sound controlled.
I walked slowly to the table.
On it lay a neatly folded dress.
Soft fabric.
Expensive.
Perfectly chosen.
It looked like something I would never afford in my life.
I didn't want to touch it.
But my fingers moved anyway.
Under the dress, I noticed a small piece of paper.
My breath slowed as I picked it up.
Just one line written on it.
"Don't test me on day one."
My heart dropped instantly.
My hand loosened, and the note almost fell from my fingers.
I stepped back quickly.
"What kind of man…" I whispered, my voice shaking slightly. "What kind of person does this?"
Silence answered me.
The mansion didn't care about my question.
Neither did he.
I walked away from the table and sat on the edge of the bed.
For the first time since I entered this room, I felt it clearly.
Not just fear.
Not just anger.
But something deeper.
Realization.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
This wasn't a mistake.
This was intentional.
He brought me here for a reason.
And whatever that reason was…
He already believed I wouldn't leave.
I looked around the room again.
The locked door.
The guarded windows.
The prepared clothes.
Everything pointed to one truth.
I wasn't a guest.
I wasn't even a prisoner.
I was something else.
Something he had decided to keep.
My fingers clenched into the bedsheet.
"No," I whispered firmly to myself. "I won't stay here."
But even as I said it…
My voice didn't sound as strong as I wanted it to.
Because somewhere deep inside me…
I already felt it.
Alexander Blackwood didn't look like a man who let go.
And I had just stepped into his world.
A world that didn't seem designed for escape.