Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Anthea
By the time I got back to the manor, lunch was over. Not that I cared—I'd grabbed a muffin at the coffee shop.
Afternoon sun washed the manor's white walls in gold. I stepped into the living room. Silas wasn't there.
I searched the manor and finally found Olei in his room, sprawled on the carpet with his crayons. The second he saw me, he dropped everything and ran.
"Mommy!" He crashed into my arms, face bright with joy.
"Baby." I crouched and pulled him close, kissed his forehead. "What are you drawing?"
"Our family!" He dragged me to the carpet and pointed at three stick figures on the paper. "That's you, that's Daddy, that's me! We're having a picnic on the lawn!"
I looked at the crude drawing. Three figures holding hands on green grass.
The smallest one hung between the other two, feet off the ground like on a swing.
The figure on the left had long yellow hair and a flowered dress, eyes scrunched in a smile.
The one on the right had flat lines for eyes and mouth—somehow he'd captured Silas perfectly.
At their feet, a messy blanket covered with food.
"It's beautiful." I smoothed his hair. "Did you eat lunch? Where's Daddy?"
"I ate! Maria made me really good beef." Olei blinked up at me. "Daddy didn't eat. He left. He said he had to handle something and I should wait for you."
I frowned. Where had Silas gone?
I checked my phone. He'd sent a message.
"Emergency at headquarters. I'll be back later. Take care of yourself and Olei."
Unease crawled through me. Headquarters meant danger. I thought of the people who'd been following us. Were they involved?
"Mommy," Olei tugged my sleeve, "can you help me find something in Daddy's study?"
"What?"
"The picture in Daddy's drawer!" His eyes lit up. "The one where Daddy looks at you crying—I want to show you!"
I tried to remember which photo that could be. During my time at the manor, I'd rarely taken pictures. After I got pregnant and my body swelled up, I'd avoided cameras completely.
"Okay, let's go look." I took his hand.
In the study, Olei scrambled onto the desk chair and pulled open a drawer, fishing out a yellowed photograph.
I took it from him and stared.
Six years ago. Me in a white dress, standing in the dahlia garden, smiling at the camera. The dahlias had just been planted. I'd begged Silas to take the picture. My belly barely showed. My face held a naive, happy smile.
The edges were worn, some parts frayed—like someone had picked it up and put it down countless times.
My nose stung.
"Mommy, why are you crying?" Olei's voice went tight with worry.
"I'm not, baby. I'm just... touched." I wiped my eyes and put the photo back.
That's when I noticed the videotapes underneath.
"What are these?" I picked one up.
No label. No indication of what was on it.
"I don't know." Olei shook his head honestly. "I never saw them before."
I stared at the tape, a sweet anticipation blooming in my chest. Could they be about me? Maybe Silas had recorded our daily life six years ago? The thought made me smile. Maybe these tapes held tenderness I'd never known about.
Olei's smartwatch beeped.
"Beep beep beep—"
He checked it, disappointment flickering across his face. "Mommy, it's homework time."
His own alarm. His own schedule.
"You can rest a little longer, keep me company while I watch these."
"No." He shook his head seriously. "You watch the tapes first, Mommy. When I finish my reading, we'll watch together!"
He slid off the chair and headed for the door.
"I'll wait for you then."
Olei turned and gave me a sweet smile, then ran back to his room.
Once his footsteps faded, I carried the tape to the screening room and loaded it into the player. The screen flickered to life. My smile died.
The scene wasn't the manor. It was... my apartment. My bedroom, to be exact.
The familiar nightstand. The familiar lamp. The familiar sheets. The camera angle was calculated, capturing the entire bed. A sleeping figure lay there. Me. I wore a nightgown, one strap sliding off my shoulder, the hem bunched at my waist. My pulse went wild. Dread swallowed me whole.
A tall figure appeared in the frame. Silas. I watched him strip down to his underwear and climb onto the bed.
What is this? No. This isn't real. Stop. Please stop. My blood ran backwards.
But the screen didn't care about my prayers. Silas kept moving. He stroked my face, fingers trailing down my jaw to my lips. Then he kissed me. But in the video, I stayed asleep. Unconscious. Unaware.
Bile surged up my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but my whole body shook.
I looked at the date in the corner. The day before I'd found the mark on my neck. That mark hadn't been from a bug bite. Not from a stranger. Silas had done it. He'd broken into my apartment, installed cameras, and while I slept—
I couldn't watch anymore. My hands trembled as I hit the remote. The screen went black.
I collapsed on the couch, every ounce of strength drained from my body. The strange dream that night. The soreness when I woke up. It all made sense now. And I'd been stupid enough to let this man—this man who'd invaded my home and violated me—help me change my locks.
"Mommy?" Olei's voice cut through the fog.
I jerked my head up. He stood in front of me, eyes full of worry.
"Mommy, I called you so many times. You didn't answer." His voice was careful. "What's wrong? You look awful."
I sucked in a breath and forced myself steady.
"I'm fine, baby." I stood, keeping my voice even. "Mommy's just not feeling well. Did you... finish your homework?"
Olei nodded, searching my face. "Mommy, were you crying?"
"No, baby. I wasn't." I crouched in front of him and forced a smile. "Let's go out, okay? I want to take you somewhere."
I had to get Olei out. Away from this manor. Away from this lunatic. Olei looked confused but nodded. I grabbed his hand and my bag, then bolted down the hallway. But a tall figure appeared at the other end.
Silas stood backlit, face unreadable, but he looked terrifying. He walked toward us slowly, stopping right in front of us.
I finally saw his expression. No different from usual. His gaze swept over my face, landed on Olei beside me, then settled on my bag.
"Where are you going?" His voice was low.
I didn't answer. I just stared at this man I'd thought had changed. This liar I'd almost believed in again.
His brow furrowed slightly. "Anthea, what happened? You look strange."
"Olei," I knelt, keeping my voice gentle, "go to your room, okay? I need to talk to Daddy."
Olei looked between us, nodded uneasily, and let go of my hand. He kept glancing back as he left. Once he disappeared around the corner, I turned to Silas.
"You put cameras in my apartment. You broke in while I was sleeping. You violated me while I was unconscious. You bastard!" I hurled my bag at him.
He didn't dodge. Just let me vent.
"Anthea, let me explain—" He looked into my eyes.
"Explain what? You raped me!" I cut him off, fury erupting like a volcano. "Everything you did is illegal. I could report you!"
The words were barely out before I regretted them. I'd just provoked him. This man didn't fear the law.
"Report me? You want Julian to help you?" Silas's voice darkened, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "You think I don't know what you talk about on those calls? You think I don't know you want to fight for custody? Looks like I didn't beat him hard enough last time."
His words froze me to the bone. He knew.
He knew everything. He hadn't just put cameras in my room—he'd probably bugged my phone too.
And Julian getting beaten, followed, threatened—Silas had orchestrated all of it.
I'd hurt Julian. And I'd still chosen to believe Silas, to trust that he wouldn't use violence, to fall for his act.
My lungs felt like they'd explode. I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. The crack echoed, sharp and clear.
"You psycho." I stared at him, voice shaking with rage. "You absolute psycho."
The slap turned his head. A red handprint bloomed on his cheek. He slowly turned back, gray eyes fixed on me, holding a near-manic obsession.
"Yes. I'm a psycho." His lips curved, utterly unconcerned. "I went crazy the moment I thought you were dead."
He looked too dangerous. I turned to run, but his arm locked around my waist and yanked me against him.
"Let go of me!" I screamed and pounded his chest. "You psycho! You bastard!"
But his hold was iron. No matter how hard I fought, I couldn't break free.
"Starting today, you're not going anywhere." His voice rumbled in my ear, low and cold. "You'll stay at the manor. With me."
"You can't do this! You can't imprison me!" My voice cracked, shrill.
"You don't have a choice." His tone was eerily calm. "I'll have guards at every exit."
He picked me up. Ignoring my struggles and screams, he carried me upstairs. I hit the bedroom mattress hard. He turned and locked the door.
"Don't even think about running, Anthea. The manor's full of my men. You won't get out." He stood by the door, eyes flat and empty. "When you calm down, I'll let you leave this room."
"You bastard!" I jumped up and grabbed a pillow, hurling it at him.
He dodged. The pillow hit the door. He looked at me one last time and shut the door.
The lock clicked, loud in the silent room.
I rushed to the door and pounded on it. "Silas, let me out! You can't do this to me! Silas!"
No response.
I slid down against the door. Tears poured down my face.
I'd thought Silas had changed. That he'd learned respect. I'd even fallen for him again, believed his sweet words.
But he'd never changed. The gentleman act, the consideration, the compromises—all fake. Deep down, he was still controlling. Domineering. He only knew how to express his so-called love through possession and control. Was that even love?
I curled up on the cold floor, nothing left but crushing disappointment and despair. Could I escape this time?