CHAPTER THREE Ruins
CHAPTER THREE
Ruins
When he left, I broke down into gut-wrenching sobs. Nothing made sense. I should have fought harder. I should have run. But I didn’t. It wasn’t logic that held me still or fear of what he might do. It was something darker, something I couldn’t name. Something I hated myself for.
I was scared of him.
And I was scared of myself.
The door opened again, and a woman walked in. Middle-aged, grey hair, and lips pulled in a straight line. She didn’t say anything. Just stood there with what seemed to be clothes in her hands.
“Who are you?” I hated how my voice trembled. She stepped closer, and I flinched as she knelt beside me and grabbed my ankle. I went to pull away but stopped when she started un-cuffing the cuffs.
My skin was raw beneath the metal. I pulled my legs toward me, curling them, but the ache was still there.
She didn’t meet my eyes. Not once. Her expression was carved from stone, just like the man she worked for. The silence stretched between us, and coated my skin.
“Who are you?” I tried again, the tremor in my voice betraying the anger.
Still, she said nothing. Instead, she held out the bundle of clothes, her hand steady.
“I’m not putting that on.” It wasn’t disobedience, it was desperation. She didn’t flinch, didn’t even react. Just waited.
Her silence was worse than any threat. It filled my chest with something I couldn’t fight.
“You’ll want to wear them. He doesn’t like waiting.”
Ice flooded my veins, and I shook my head. “No,” I whispered. “No, I’m not—”
Her gaze snapped to mine then. “You don’t have a choice, Miss.”
My fists clenched, and all I could do was stare at her, the clothes in her hands, the door still slightly ajar behind her. But there was no running, no escaping that bastard.
With trembling hands, I reached out and took the bundle.
“The bathroom’s that way.”
I moved toward the bathroom like a marionette, the bundle of clothes hung heavy in my arms. My bare feet scraped against the cold floor, and the door clicked shut behind me, closing me in a hollow space that reeked of bleach and despair.
The mirror was right above the sink. For a long moment, I couldn’t look. My hands gripped the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white, as I willed myself to breathe.
When I finally dared to lift my gaze, the reflection staring back at me wasn’t mine. It couldn’t be.
The girl in the mirror was hollow, her eyes rimmed red and swollen. Her lips quivered, her face—my face—was streaked with the tracks of tears that had long since dried. There was no fight left in her. Only a shadow of the person she used to be.
I hated her.
An ugly sob tore from my throat, and I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle it. Adrian should’ve been beside me, laughing, loving, and… alive.
If I stayed here, I’d die. Maybe not today, but soon.
I dragged my gaze back to the mirror. My fingers twitched as I grabbed the cloth from the bundle, wrapping it around my hand. The mirror trembled under my fist before shattering into a spider web of jagged pieces. The sound was muffled.
I fished out the largest shard. Its edge was sharp enough to bite into my skin.
I quickly slipped into the purple dress and tore the remains of my old dress into strips, wrapping the shard in the largest piece and shoving it against my chest.
My heart thundered against it.
I just needed to act my part. He wouldn’t trample over my life without me fighting back.
The purple dress fit too well. Too perfect, as if it had been made for me.
I bit the inside of my cheek hard until I tasted blood. Pain stranded me.
Hiding my shaking hands behind my back, I took a breath and left the bathroom. The woman was not there. The cuffs lay on the floor. I clenched my jaw before walking to the metal door. My fingers hovered over the handle, and I forced myself to take a deep breath.
She was waiting. Her eyes swept over me and without a word, she simply turned and gestured for me to follow.
If I couldn’t escape, then I’d make him regret ever touching my life.
She led me down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. It was a basement, I realised. Grey and black walls and a concrete floor. Yellow bulbs and a stench... which I didn’t want to decipher.
There was a door at the end of the staircase, and somehow I knew where it led. The moment I stepped onto it, my breath hitched. The door opened into a grand room, and my eyes widened, momentarily forgetting to breathe.
What… what place was this?
My moist eyes took in the cold marbled floor stretching underneath the high ceiling. Everything gleamed with wealth, like the house didn’t know how to be lived in.
The witch tugged me forward, snapping me out of my trance. My feet faltered as my mind raced. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t just rich—he was powerful. The kind of power that made people disappear without a trace.
What could he possibly want from us? From me?
The maid led me through an arched doorway into what appeared to be a dining room.
There he sat at the head of the table, his back to me, his fingers curling around the stem of a wine glass, the liquid inside catching the light like blood.
I thought I knew fear, but this man redefined it.
He didn’t look at me right away, but somehow I felt his sentience.
The shadows played tricks on his face until he looked more like a nightmare than a man.
I stopped in the doorway, my fists clenched at my sides.
Hot anger and hatred surged through me. It was so volatile that I nearly pulled out the glass and plunged it into his neck.
Instead, I forced myself to breathe.