The velvet curtain hung heavy, velvet folds swallowing the light of the grand hallway. Evelina's breath quickened as she stood before it, fingers trembling on the edge. Fever still burned in her body, but desperation pressed her forward. She needed out. She needed to believe in some exit, even if the world beyond was hostile.
Her knees touched the polished floor as she knelt. A heartbeat passed, then another. Finally, she pushed the curtain aside and pressed her hand against the wall. To her shock, the panel yielded with a faint click.
The secret corridor opened before her.
Cold air swept against her fevered skin as she crawled inside. The darkness felt alive, the silence heavier than chains. Evelina slipped into the passage, the panel sliding shut behind her, sealing her in.
At once, she was swallowed by gloom. The only light came from dim, hidden bulbs tucked sporadically along the stone walls. The passage smelled of dust and forgotten things.
For the first time since her kidnapping, there were no cameras staring directly at her, no servants' footsteps outside her door, no heavy grey eyes dissecting her every move. She almost laughed from relief.
Maybe… maybe this is it. My way out.
Her hand brushed against the wall as she walked deeper. But something snagged her fingertips. She stopped and leaned closer.
Scratches. Long, desperate gouges carved into the stone.
Her blood ran cold.
The grooves were not random. They were fingernail marks, etched in panic and pain. She pulled her hand back sharply, breath catching in her throat. Someone else had been here before. Someone had tried to claw their way out.
Shivers crawled along her spine as she pressed forward. Her fever made the air waver, but she forced herself to continue. The corridor twisted and tightened, almost suffocating in its narrowness. Dust clung to her skin, cobwebs tangled in her hair.
And then, she saw it.
At the very end of the passage, half-buried under rotting wood and forgotten crates, lay scraps of paper and a small, rusted tin box. Evelina knelt, trembling, and pried it open.
Inside were fragments: torn letters, faded photographs, scraps of handwriting in Russian. She couldn't read all of it, but some words stood out enough, jagged and cruel in their clarity.
"Payment."
"Sold."
"Volkov heir."
"Your mother has agreed—"
Her breath hitched as the meaning bled into her.
Kairo.
The boy in the photograph was unmistakable. Even though his features were younger, his steel-grey eyes stared from the faded image. The letters told the rest: his own mother had sold him, bartered him like property, to settle debts, to grasp wealth or safety at his expense.
Evelina's vision swam. The fever raged hotter, but her mind refused to release what it had just learned.
Kairo Volkov—the man who had stolen her freedom, who toyed with her tears, who controlled every breath she took—had once been her reflection. He had been betrayed, too. Not by a stranger. Not by an enemy. But by blood. By the one meant to protect him most.
Just like her father had sold her.
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh all at once. This corridor wasn't just a prison. It was a mirror.
---
In the surveillance room, Kairo watched her. Every inch of the corridor had been wired long ago. He saw the way her fingers trembled as she held the photograph. He saw the horror on her face as she pieced the fragments together.
His lips curved faintly—not a smile, not amusement, but something darker.
"So, you found it," he murmured. His voice was soft, meant only for himself, yet it echoed like a confession.
He rose from his chair. No rush, no fury. Just calm inevitability.
---
Evelina pressed the papers back into the tin, her heart racing. She didn't know what to feel. Pity? Fear? A strange kinship? Or deeper dread, because if Kairo had once been a victim, then how had he become this monster?
The fever blurred her vision, but she began crawling back. The corridor offered no freedom, no escape—only a truth too heavy to carry.
Her knees scraped raw, her palms stung from stone, but she dragged herself forward until at last she found the panel again. She pushed it open with trembling hands.
And froze.
Kairo stood waiting.
He was leaning casually against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest, posture deceptively relaxed. Yet his presence filled the space like a storm waiting to break. His steel-grey eyes bore into her, sharp and unreadable.
Evelina's heart stopped. She clutched the frame of the hidden door as though it might save her, though she knew better. He had known all along. He had been watching.
She staggered halfway out, fever making her body sway, her lips trembling as she searched for words. None came.
Kairo's head tilted slightly. His voice was calm, almost amused, but edged with something heavier.
"Done running, little one?"
Her throat tightened. She shook her head weakly, as if denying the question, as if denying him.
He crouched in front of her, lowering himself until his eyes were level with hers. His gaze was steady, merciless, but in the depths of the steel there was a flicker she had not seen before. Something raw. Something she had just read about in that corridor.
"You've seen it," he said softly, his tone a whisper meant to coil around her thoughts. "You know what they did."
Her lips parted. "Y-your… mother…"
He gave a low, humorless laugh. "Yes. My mother. The woman who gave me life traded me away like currency. The irony, Evelina…" His voice deepened, his grey eyes narrowing, "is that you and I are not so different."
Her stomach twisted. She wanted to scream that they were nothing alike, that she was not him. But the words died in her throat. Because deep down, the cruel truth gnawed at her—there was a mirror between them.
Kairo leaned closer, his breath brushing against her fever-heated skin.
"So tell me," he whispered. "How long before you stop pretending you're different from me?"
Evelina shuddered. She tried to shrink back into the corridor, but his hand came up—not harsh, not violent—simply pressing against the frame above her shoulder, caging her without effort.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her tears blurring her vision.
And yet Kairo's voice stayed calm, steady, as if he had been waiting not for her escape, but for this revelation.
"Run, hide, scratch at the walls all you like," he murmured. "The truth will always drag you back to me."
Evelina's breath broke into sobs she could not contain. The fever made her sway, her strength draining as her knees buckled.
Kairo did not move, only watching her collapse at his feet.
The chapter ended in silence—the predator waiting, calm, patient, while his prey realized that every secret corridor led back to him.
To be continued...