I woke up slowly.
For a few seconds, I didn't move. My body felt heavy, sore in places I didn't want to think about, and the bed beneath me was softer than anything I had ever slept on.
The sheets were silk.
Real silk.
Cool against my skin.
My eyes opened fully, and the first thing I saw was the ceiling. It stretched high above me, decorated with subtle gold patterns that looked expensive enough to feed a small village.
Confusion settled in my chest.
This wasn't the small room Claire and I rented.
This wasn't the hospital either.
Memory came back like a slap.
The gun.
Claire screaming.
The priest's trembling voice.
Cyprian standing beside me while I was forced to repeat vows I never agreed to.
My stomach twisted violently.
I pushed myself up on the bed, ignoring the ache in my ribs.
The room around me slowly came into focus.
It was enormous.
Dark wooden panels lined the walls, and tall windows allowed pale morning light to spill across the polished floor.
But that wasn't what made my breath catch.
It was the things inside the room.
My eyes moved slowly across the space.
The wardrobe doors were slightly open.
Inside were dresses.
Dozens of them.
Long gowns, fitted dresses, fabrics that looked far too expensive for someone like me to even touch.
I swallowed hard.
My gaze shifted toward the vanity table.
Perfume bottles.
Jewelry boxes.
Hairbrushes.
Everything arranged neatly like someone had carefully placed them there.
Shoes lined the floor near the closet.
Women's shoes.
My chest tightened.
This wasn't temporary.
This wasn't some misunderstanding.
Someone had prepared this room.
For me.
The realization hit me like ice water.
I wasn't a guest here.
I was expected to stay.
Expected to live here.
Expected to be his wife.
The word alone made anger rise in my chest.
A soft knock came from the door before it opened slowly.
A young maid stepped inside, lowering her head respectfully.
"Good morning, madam."
I almost laughed.
Madam.
If only she knew.
"Where is Claire?" I asked immediately.
The maid hesitated.
"She is safe."
"That's not what I asked."
Her fingers twisted nervously in front of her.
"She is in the guest wing under protection."
Relief washed through me so suddenly my knees nearly gave out.
I swung my legs off the bed.
"I want to see her."
"I will inform...."
"No."
My voice came out sharper than I expected.
"I'm not asking."
The maid hurried out of the room, and moments later two guards appeared at the door.
Large men.
Armed.
Watching me carefully.
"Mrs. Volkov," one of them said politely.
The name made my stomach turn.
"Mr. Volkov instructed that you rest."
"I want to see Claire."
The two men exchanged a glance.
"If you stop me," I said quietly, "I will walk out of this house barefoot and scream until every person in this estate hears me."
Silence followed.
Finally, one of the guards sighed.
"Very well."
They escorted me through the mansion.
And mansion didn't even begin to describe it.
The floors were marble. The ceilings stretched high above us, decorated with chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace.
But the guards stationed at every corner made one thing clear.
This place was also a prison.
Claire was in a quiet guest room down another hallway.
The moment she saw me, she jumped to her feet.
"Raven!"
She ran toward me and wrapped her arms around me tightly.
For a second, I just held her.
"You're okay," I whispered.
She pulled back, studying my face carefully.
Then her eyes dropped to my hand.
To the ring.
Her expression darkened instantly.
"You married him," she said quietly.
I looked away.
Claire dragged a hand through her hair in frustration.
"You shouldn't have done that!"
My head snapped up.
"He had a gun to your head, Claire!"
The words echoed in the room.
Her anger disappeared immediately.
Neither of us spoke for a moment.
Finally she whispered softly,
"Do you think he'll ever let you go?"
I opened my mouth.
But nothing came out.
Because deep down...
I already knew the answer.
Later that night I stood in the bedroom again.
Waiting.
The door opened.
And Cyprian walked in.
The room felt smaller the moment he stepped inside.
Tall.
Cold.
Controlled.
His dark eyes moved slowly over me like he was checking for injuries.
I crossed my arms.
"Have it at the back of your mind that I never wanted any of this!!!."
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he walked toward me slowly.
Each step calm.
Measured.
Dangerous.
"You forced me," I repeated.
He stopped in front of me.
"You're alive," he said quietly.
My jaw tightened.
"By imprisoning me?"
His expression didn't change.
"I saved your life."
"And took my freedom."
For a moment, silence stretched between us.
Then his voice dropped lower.
"You still have it."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"Oh really?"
His eyes darkened slightly.
"Yes."
A pause.
"You are free to hate me."
The words caught me off guard.
I stared at him, unsure how to respond.
And I hated that my heart still remembered the moment I woke up earlier and saw him standing there.
The strange relief I had felt.
I hated it.
Later that night, I heard movement outside the room.
Voices.
Low.
Serious.
I moved closer to the door without thinking.
Through the slightly open gap, I heard one of his men speaking.
"We confirmed it."
Cyprian's voice followed.
Cold.
"Who?"
There was a pause.
Then the man said a name I couldn't hear clearly.
Silence filled the hallway.
When Cyprian spoke again, his voice was ice.
"Prepare the car."
"Where are we going, boss?"
A long pause followed.
Then Cyprian said quietly,
"Someone needs to be reminded who they tried to steal from."
And something about the way he said it made a chill run down my spine.