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The soft chime of the dining bell startled Jane. She had been sitting quietly in the guest room all afternoon, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling, letting the weight of her new reality sink in.
The door creaked open, and a maid stepped in, hands folded neatly in front of her apron.
"Sir Alexander requests your presence in the dining room."
Jane swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "Now?"
"Yes, miss."
The maid's voice was polite, but there was no warmth. It was the kind of tone that belonged in a place where rules were made of steel.
Jane followed her down the long corridor, her footsteps muffled by the thick, wine-red carpet. Oil paintings lined the walls — stern men in expensive suits, women with sharp eyes, landscapes of cities she didn't recognize. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and something else — power, maybe.
When they reached the dining room, Jane's breath caught. A long polished mahogany table stretched across the space, gleaming under the golden glow of a chandelier that looked like it had been stolen straight from a palace. At the far end sat Alexander.
He didn't rise. He didn't smile. He simply gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sit."
His voice was low, even, but it carried the weight of a command, not an invitation.
Jane obeyed. The moment she sat down, a pair of maids appeared, silently placing dishes before them — roast lamb with rosemary, mashed potatoes whipped to perfection, and a salad so vibrant it looked painted. Jane's stomach tightened. She hadn't eaten since breakfast, but her nerves twisted the hunger into something sour.
Alexander cut into his lamb with surgical precision, then finally spoke.
"Your father…" He paused, chewing slowly. "…was a great man."
Jane's chest tightened. It was the first time Alexander had mentioned him since taking her from her home.
"But," Alexander continued, his eyes meeting hers at last, "I hate him."
Jane's lips parted, but he raised a hand before she could speak.
"Don't ask me why," he said simply, setting down his knife and fork. "That's not your concern."
Her fingers curled against her lap, the questions dying on her tongue.
Alexander leaned back slightly in his chair. "You're here now, Jane. Whatever you think about running, about finding a way back — don't. No matter what you do, you will end up here again. Understand?"
The words were delivered calmly, but they hit her like a slammed door.
"Yes," she murmured.
His gaze lingered a moment longer, sharp enough to make her shift in her seat. Then he turned toward one of the maids standing by the wall.
"Make sure she has everything she needs. Clothes. Toiletries. Food. Whatever she asks for — within reason."
"Yes, sir," the maid replied with a bow.
Dinner ended in silence. Alexander finished his plate, stood, and left without another word.
The maid from earlier returned. "Come, miss. I'll take you to your room."
---
The room Jane entered was nothing like the cold corridors outside. It was… breathtaking.
The moment the door opened, a wash of warm golden light spilled over her. The walls were painted a soft cream, framed with elegant crown molding that curved gracefully toward a high ceiling. A grand chandelier hung in the center, its crystals catching the light in tiny rainbows that danced over the floor.
The bed dominated the space — a king-sized masterpiece draped in layers of ivory silk sheets and a duvet so thick it looked like it could swallow her whole. The headboard was carved mahogany, its patterns intricate and regal.
A plush Persian rug covered most of the dark hardwood floor, its deep reds and golds so vivid they seemed almost alive.
To the left, tall windows stretched nearly from floor to ceiling, framed by heavy velvet curtains in a shade of deep emerald. They were tied back with gold tassels, letting in the faint glow of the moon. The glass was so clean she could see her reflection in it.
A dressing table sat against one wall, its mirror framed in silver filigree, the surface clutter-free except for a crystal vase holding a single white lily.
Across from it stood a wardrobe — not the kind you could open with a creak and find a few hangers. This was a full walk-in closet disguised behind carved double doors. Inside, the shelves were already lined with neatly folded clothing in her size: soft cashmere sweaters, crisp blouses, silk skirts, even shoes arranged by color and heel height.
To the right, near the corner, was a seating area with two armchairs upholstered in cream leather and a small round table between them, already set with a porcelain teapot and two matching cups.
And then there was the fridge.
It wasn't just a fridge. It was a sleek, built-in, stainless steel double-door unit tucked into a small alcove beside a marble counter. When she pulled the handle, the cool air that hit her smelled faintly of fresh herbs and citrus.
It was full.
Not "a few drinks and snacks" full — it was stocked like a gourmet store.
Top shelf: neatly stacked glass containers of fresh fruit — strawberries, blueberries, pineapple slices, and watermelon cubes.
Second shelf: imported cheeses wrapped in wax paper, small jars of olives, trays of cured meats.
Bottom shelf: cartons of fresh milk, almond milk, and neatly labeled bottles of sparkling water.
The drawers were filled with vegetables so fresh they looked like they'd been picked an hour ago — bright green lettuce, cherry tomatoes, bell peppers in every color, asparagus, baby carrots.
The freezer section had neatly arranged pints of artisanal ice cream, packs of frozen berries, and a few trays of what looked like pre-prepped gourmet meals.
On the counter beside it sat a polished espresso machine, its chrome parts gleaming, with a row of labeled jars — coffee beans from Colombia, Ethiopia, and Kenya.
---
Jane closed the fridge slowly, her mind spinning.
This place had everything.
Everything except freedom.
She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the soft silk sheets. Her thoughts wandered back to Austin — his voice, his laugh, the way she'd trusted him so much she'd signed everything over to him without hesitation.
And for what?
So he could throw her out like a stranger? So he could keep what she'd given him out of love?
She clenched her jaw. Love. That word didn't belong in her life anymore. Not after this.
She stared at the chandelier above, the light blurring as her eyes burned. In this massive, beautiful room, surrounded by comfort and luxury, she had never felt smaller.
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