2
The penthouse was nothing like her apartment.
It felt like stepping into another world. Dark wood, black stone, and floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering lights of Stockholm far below. Everything was expensive, cold, and meticulously clean. There were no personal photographs. No clutter. No signs that a real person actually lived here.
Linnéa stood in the middle of the vast living room, still wearing her damp coat, clutching her bag like it was the only thing anchoring her to reality. The door had locked automatically behind them when they entered. She had already tried it twice.
Isak had disappeared into another part of the apartment without a word.
She walked slowly toward the windows. The drop was dizzying. Even if she could open them, jumping would be pointless. She pressed her palm against the cold glass and tried to steady her breathing.
This couldn’t be happening.
A sound behind her made her spin around.
A woman in a simple black uniform had appeared from a side door, carrying a tray. She set it down on the long dining table without looking at Linnéa, then disappeared again as quietly as she had come. The smell of warm food drifted through the air.
Linnéa didn’t move.
A few minutes later, Isak returned.
He had removed his coat. The black shirt underneath stretched across his broad shoulders, and he had rolled the sleeves up to his forearms. He looked at her, then at the untouched tray, then back at her face.
“Sit,” he said.
She stayed where she was.
Isak walked over to the table and pulled out a chair. His movements were calm, controlled. Like he had all the time in the world.
“Linnéa,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Sit down. You’re going to eat.”
Something in his tone made her legs move before her mind had fully decided. She walked over and sat down stiffly. The chair was too comfortable. It made her feel like a guest instead of a prisoner, and that somehow made everything worse.
Isak took the seat across from her. He didn’t eat. He simply watched as she picked up the fork with unsteady fingers and forced herself to take a small bite. The food was good. She hated that it was good.
They sat in silence for several minutes. The only sounds were the faint hum of the city far below and the occasional clink of her cutlery.
Finally, he spoke.
“You’re wondering how long I’ve known about you.”
Linnéa kept her eyes on her plate. She didn’t answer.
“Four years,” he continued. “Almost to the month.”
Her fork stilled.
Isak leaned back in his chair, studying her with unnerving calm.
“The first time I saw you, you were twenty-one. You were standing outside a café in the rain, holding a coffee you clearly couldn’t afford, and you gave it to a stray dog that had been hanging around the tables. You smiled at it like it was the only thing in the world that understood you.”
Linnéa’s chest tightened. She remembered that day. Vaguely. She hadn’t thought anyone was watching.
“I became… interested,” Isak said. His voice was low, almost thoughtful. “At first it was just curiosity. Then it became something else. I started paying attention. Your shifts at the bar. The way you always took the same route home. The nights you sat by your window with that sketchbook and never finished anything. The way you cried sometimes when you thought no one could see.”
She finally looked up at him. Her voice came out hoarse.
“You had cameras in my apartment.”
“Not at first,” he admitted. “But eventually, yes. I needed to know you were safe. Or at least as safe as someone in your position could be.”
Linnéa felt sick.
“You’re sick,” she whispered.
Isak didn’t deny it. He simply tilted his head.
“Perhaps. But I’m also the only reason you’re still breathing right now. The people who owned your father’s debt before me were not gentle men. They were going to use you to send a message. I prevented that.”
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table.
“I didn’t buy the debt to be kind, Linnéa. I bought it because I decided a long time ago that you were mine. The debt simply gave me the opportunity to take what I already considered mine.”
The words settled over her like a weight.
She pushed the plate away, no longer able to eat.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Isak was quiet for a moment.
“Now,” he said, “you finish eating what you can. Then you’re going to take a shower. There are clothes in the room I’ve prepared for you. You will sleep there tonight. And you will not try to leave.”
“And if I do?”
His eyes darkened, but his voice remained calm.
“Then I will bring you back. And the next time you try, the consequences will be worse. I have been patient for four years, Linnéa. My patience has limits.”
He stood up and walked around the table until he stood beside her chair. He reached down and gently tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. The touch was almost tender. Almost.
“Go shower,” he murmured. “I’ll have more food sent up if you’re still hungry later. And Linnéa…”
She looked up at him.
“Don’t make me come find you. I’ve already spent years finding you. I’m done waiting.”
He turned and walked away, leaving her sitting alone at the long table with the lights of Stockholm glittering coldly below.
Linnéa sat there for a long time after he disappeared.
Eventually, she stood on unsteady legs and walked down the hallway he had indicated earlier. The room at the end was large and beautiful in the same cold, expensive way as the rest of the penthouse. A king-sized bed with dark gray sheets. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A walk-in closet filled with clothes she had never seen before — soft sweaters, silk blouses, and jeans that looked like they would actually fit.
She didn’t touch any of it.
The bathroom was all black marble and glass. She locked the door even though she knew it wouldn’t keep him out if he wanted to come in. She stripped out of her wet clothes and stepped under the hot spray of the shower.
Only then did she let herself cry.
She stayed under the water until it ran cold and her fingers had gone numb.
When she finally came out, wrapped in a thick towel, she found a black T-shirt and soft sleep shorts laid out on the bed. She hadn’t heard anyone enter the room.
She put them on anyway.
The bed was too soft. The sheets smelled expensive. She lay on her back and stared at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of the city far below.
Somewhere in the penthouse, Isak was moving around.
Linnéa turned onto her side and pulled her knees up to her chest.
She had no phone. No money. No one who would notice she was gone for days.
She was completely alone with a man who had been watching her for four years.
And he had made it very clear that he had no intention of ever letting her go.