The marble bathroom eventually fell into a heavy, hollow silence. The steam had long since vanished, leaving the air cold and damp. Elva wiped her face with a trembling hand, her eyes red and swollen, but the tears had finally stopped.
A cold realization settled deep in her chest. If she stayed in this house, the girl she used to be would slowly disappear. Her dreams, her books, her very name—everything would be erased by the shadow of the Salvatore family.
She stood up from the cooling water, the rose petals clinging to her skin like withered silk. She dried herself mechanically and wrapped her body in the thick, white bathrobe the maids had left for her. Every movement was slow, heavy with the weight of her decision.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, the room looked different. An hour ago, the gold fixtures and velvet chairs had seemed like a dream of luxury. Now, they looked like the bars of a very expensive cage.
She looked around the room, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. I have to leave.
The thought was no longer a fear; it was a necessity. She couldn't spend seven months pretending to be a wife to a man who looked at her with such cold disdain. She couldn't be a puppet for the Rodriguez family while her own life turned to ash.
First, she hurried toward the sofa where the staff had placed her travel bag. Her fingers fumbled with the clasp as she pulled out the most precious things she owned: her medical textbooks. Biology guides, thick entrance exam manuals, and her own handwritten notes.
She held them to her chest for a moment. These books weren't just paper and ink to her; they were the only proof that Elva Williams still existed.
She looked around the room for a hiding spot. If Matthew found them, he might burn them just to prove his point. She knelt by the massive mahogany wardrobe and opened the bottom drawer. Moving the heavy, scented blankets aside, she pushed the books deep into the dark space beneath the wood, sliding them back until they were completely invisible to a casual glance.
She closed the drawer slowly, her breath hitching. "They're safe," she whispered. "For now."
But hiding her books wasn't enough. She had to hide herself.
Her gaze drifted across the room to the massive, floor-to-ceiling window. The silk curtains fluttered in the morning breeze, beckoning her. Elva walked toward it, her bare feet silent on the plush carpet.
She pulled the curtain aside just an inch. Outside, the Salvatore estate stretched out like a kingdom. She saw perfectly manicured lawns, rows of ancient oak trees, and stone pathways that wound through the gardens. Far in the distance, she could see the spiked iron tops of the perimeter fence.
Uniformed guards walked the grounds, their movements disciplined and alert. Her heart sank. This wasn't just a home; it was a fortress. Matthew Salvatore was one of the highest-ranking military officers in the country, and his security was absolute.
She touched the cool glass of the window. It was a long drop to the terrace below, and the garden was crawling with men paid to keep people out—or in.
She stared at the gates, her reflection ghost-like in the windowpane.
"I have to try," she murmured to the empty room.
Staying meant losing her soul. Escaping meant risking her life. But as she looked out at the horizon, Elva realized that for a girl with nothing left to lose, the risk was the only thing that felt real.