Adrian's Mansion
Another day – Late Afternoon after training
Raya sat on the stone steps outside the grand estate Adrian had locked her in—or rather, kept her in. "Locked" made it sound like she was chained in some dark dungeon. But no, her prison was a paradise… if you didn't know better.
The garden around her was manicured to perfection. Wild roses curled up white trellises. A quiet fountain trickled peacefully in the center of the yard, birds sang in the distance, and the sky above looked far too free for how she felt inside. The mansion itself towered behind her—modern, intimidating, and beautiful—a fortress wrapped in elegance.
She rested her chin on her knees, eyes drifting to the winding driveway beyond the iron gate. It was long—almost impossibly so—and guarded like a military base. Two men stood near the entrance, armed and alert. Another patrolled the yard, pretending to mind his own business but glancing at her every few seconds.
She wasn't stupid.
One wrong move, one step too far, and she'd be tackled, sedated… or maybe even shot. Adrian was an enemy who didn't play fair, and neither did he when pushed. He hadn't hurt her—yet—but she knew enough to stay still until the storm passed.
To be honest, she wasn't just scared for her father or even that they might harm Anna. She was scared for her own life too… she really didn't want to die yet.
Call her a coward if you wanted.
She didn't want to die. And especially not in some brutal, messy way.
She hadn't given up, not completely. She'd tried the first few days—jiggling door handles, scanning for blind spots, even sizing up the guards. But the place was designed like a trap disguised as a palace. Cameras. Motion sensors. Silent alarms.
The worst part? Even the beauty around her mocked her. The soft cushions inside, the velvet curtains, the silk sheets. It was like being buried alive in a five-star coffin.
And yet… the quiet part of her still clung to hope.
She didn't know what Adrian truly wanted from her. Or maybe it was as simple as he'd said. But she was grateful she was still alive.
Until she figured it out, the safest thing to do… was sit still and wait.
Just waiting.
---
The next day
Raya was awake before the knock. Her body had already adjusted to the rhythm of this harsh new routine—an unfamiliar place, cold stares, exhausting training, and sleepless nights that crawled by too slowly.
When Grigor's deep voice rumbled through the door—
"Breakfast."
—she was already rinsing her face, the cool water doing little to ease the tiredness beneath her eyes.
She dressed quickly, choosing another plain dress from the intimidating closet full of Seraphina-style clothes. This one was soft beige, flaring slightly above the knee. She didn't like how light it was, how expensive it felt against her skin. But it was better than wearing the same wrinkled outfit again.
As she descended the stairs toward the dining hall, her pace slowed unconsciously. Her fingers tightened around the railing.
Adrian was back.
She knew before she even stepped in. The air felt heavier. Charged.
When she walked into the dining room, her eyes found him instantly—Adrian Blake, seated at the head of the long table, dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He didn't look at her. He didn't have to. His presence filled the entire room. The men around him stood.
Stephen by his left, Dante near the corner, and some others she hadn't spoken to yet. Ace and Stone weren't here today, probably dealing with something else. But no one was eating. Only Adrian.
Raya froze for half a second at the entrance, surprise flickering in her chest before she caught herself. She took a breath and walked forward, quiet but not hesitant.
"Good morning," she said lightly, her voice even.
Stephen gave her a small nod. Dante offered a subtle lift of his chin. Grigor remained silent behind her.
Adrian didn't respond. He continued eating, silverware clicking against porcelain like a metronome.
Raya moved to the table and took her seat beside him, as always now. The silence stretched. She focused on the plate in front of her, choosing fruit and toast. Her fingers moved with unconscious grace—posture straighter than before, gestures slower, more deliberate.
And he noticed it.
"How's your training going?" Adrian asked suddenly, his voice smooth but unreadable.
"Fine," Raya replied, eyes on her plate. Her tone was polite, but distant. No need to play friendly.
He gave a low hum but said nothing more.
The rest of breakfast passed in silence. The men around them didn't eat, just lingered, talking quietly amongst themselves, occasionally glancing at their boss. Raya ate quickly, but not messily. She'd learned by now to chew with grace, avoid clinking her spoon too loudly, and keep her elbows off the table.
When she rose to leave, Adrian was already on his phone, speaking in low tones. He didn't look up.
---
The training room felt different today.
Maybe because Raya felt different.
She stood straighter. Her steps were quieter, more precise. Her body still ached, her legs still burned, but she'd grown used to the pain. Even her right hand didn't tremble as much when she picked up a pen.
Elena Monroe stood by the mirror, clipboard in hand as usual.
"We'll review posture transitions again," she said without looking up. "Then table etiquette drills."
Raya nodded, tying her hair back.
After hours of drills, the door opened.
Adrian stepped inside.
Elena immediately straightened, and Raya, mid-step, paused before regaining composure. She dipped her head slightly in greeting. "Good evening," she said, tone even.
Why even bothering to greeting him?
"Good evening," Elena echoed politely.
Adrian nodded to the greeting. He crossed the room and sat on one of the chairs, folding one leg over the other.
"Continue," he said.
Raya resumed walking, now more aware of every movement.
Adrian didn't speak much. He just sat there. Watching. His eyes sharp, assessing everything like this was one of his business meetings. Raya could feel his gaze on her spine, on her hands when she picked up a teacup, on her face when she smiled at a pretend guest.
After several minutes, he finally spoke.
"How has her training been?"
Elena responded quickly. "She's improving steadily. Not as flawless as Miss Hart, but Miss Calder is adapting. Her posture has been corrected, her diction is clearer. With time, she'll be ready for basic appearances."
Adrian's gaze flicked to Raya.
"Miss Calder?" he repeated, and both women stiffened.
He let the silence drag before continuing, his tone sharper now.
"Start calling her Seraphina Hart from today. She needs to respond to the name instinctively."
Raya's heart jumped.
Elena nodded once. "Understood."
Raya opened her mouth. Then closed it.
She wanted to argue. To say she wasn't ready. That this was too much. That she wasn't Seraphina Hart and would never be her. But she didn't know where her father was. Didn't know what Adrian might do if she pushed back.
So she swallowed the words.
And nodded.
"Yes... Mr. Blake."
"And her eyes....?" Adrian said dragging his words not bothering to say much
"Yes, sir. When she's ready, we'll get some contact lenses in Miss Hart's eye color for her," Elena said carefully, not wanting to say anything that might annoy him.
"I believe she's ready," Adrian said, his gaze locking on Raya, who just glared at him.
This little one is too bold and rude. If not for him needing her—which he regret to admit—he wouldn't even bother with her.
Adrian stood, gave a last unreadable look, and left the room. No goodbye. No warning.
Raya stared after him, breath caught in her throat.
She really needed to control her habit of glaring at people. But it had become so ingrained that no amount of training could erase it.
And Adrian.... He was turning her into someone else, piece by piece. She was no longer being trained. She was being remade.
---
Later, after training ended, she walked out of the room quietly. Her arms were sore from posture drills. Her tongue ached from pronunciation repetition. Her right wrist throbbed.
She found Adrian in the hallway.
He wasn't looking at her. Just standing near the window, phone in hand.
But when she passed him, he turned.
"Seraphina," he said.
Raya stopped.
The name felt like a slap.
She turned slowly, meeting his gaze.
He didn't repeat himself. Just watched her, like testing to see how naturally she'd respond.
She held his gaze for a long second.
Then lowered her eyes and replied softly, "Yes?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, measuring the weight of her reaction. But he said nothing more.
He turned away and walked off.
And Raya stood there, heartbeat loud in her ears.
Not because she'd passed a test.
But because she had just answered to someone else's name.
And for the first time, it hadn't felt completely unnatural.