Abigail's eyes widened the moment she stepped into the room. For a heartbeat, she couldn't even breathe. The air itself felt charged, almost sacred, as if the room had been waiting for her arrival.
The walls were painted a soft, elegant white—smooth, flawless, almost shining under the warm golden lights. Two pristine white couches sat opposite each other, perfectly aligned, and between them a sleek black glass table gleamed like obsidian, reflecting the lights above. It looked like something taken straight out of a billionaire's mansion, the kind she had only seen in glossy magazines or movies.
"This room… covers my whole house," she whispered, slowly stepping forward, turning in circles as if afraid she might break something just by looking at it. Every corner seemed more luxurious than the last—each detail thoughtfully placed, each surface shining like it had been polished for royalty.
"Oh my goodness… this is another heaven." The words escaped her before she could stop them, carried on a gasp of awe.
Her gaze caught the massive smart TV mounted on the wall.
"Wow…" she breathed, lips parting in awe. Her reflection shimmered faintly in its dark screen before her eyes traveled farther—and landed on something that made her gasp again.
A king-sized bed sat at the far end of the room, dressed in thick white sheets, silver accents, and pillows that looked softer than clouds. Its frame was carved delicately, ornate yet modern, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
"Oh my God," she exclaimed, rushing toward it. Without another thought, she jumped onto the bed.
The mattress swallowed her gently before lifting her back up slowly, cocooning her like a dream.
"What the heck?" she burst into laughter, her voice echoing softly. "It feels like I'm lying on a cloud!"
Everything around her screamed luxury—the silver bedside lamps, glimmering like captured stars; the velvet rug under her feet, soft enough to sink toes into; the marble floors that reflected the warm light like flowing water. It was overwhelming… beautiful… intoxicating.
She drifted toward the curtains, her fingers brushing the silky fabric. When she pushed them aside, sunlight washed into the room like golden water, illuminating every surface. The entire space glowed, and she froze, her breath hitching. Her heart skipped a beat.
Behind the curtains was a wide glass double-door balcony.
"No way…" she whispered, feeling a thrill of disbelief and excitement.
She pushed the doors open slowly. A soft breeze swept into the room, lifting her hair behind her like a scene from a movie. She tilted her face toward the sunlight, letting it kiss her skin.
"This… is my balcony?" she asked the air itself, stepping out with wide, dreamy eyes.
Fresh air wrapped around her, warm sunlight dancing on her shoulders. From here, she could see almost the entire yard—anyone who came, anyone who left. She felt… free. A strange, fluttering sense of possibility coursed through her chest.
She glanced down—and gasped again.
Beside a small, clear pond was a little structure—not exactly a house, but a peaceful retreat. A perfect place to escape the world and think.
There was a single wooden chair, positioned precisely in front of a beautifully polished Chinese Zither (Guzheng). A peach tree stood beside it, its pink petals drifting gently in the breeze, falling into the pond like soft snow.
"Wow… this looks like the perfect place to study… or just think." She smiled softly, her fingers brushing the balcony railing. The tranquility made her want to sit there forever, to listen to the water, to let thoughts float away with the petals.
She lingered a moment longer, breathing in the scent of fresh air, before returning inside. To her left were two doors. Out of curiosity, she opened the first.
It led to the toilet. Next to it was another door—the bathroom.
When she stepped inside, she froze again.
"This is… massive."
The bathroom alone was the size of her entire family's apartment. Marble walls gleamed under soft lighting. Gold fixtures sparkled, a large, elegant bathtub rested beneath a chandelier that looked like it had been plucked from a palace, and shelves displayed luxury bath accessories she had only seen online—perfume bottles, towels folded with precise perfection, and tiny crystals decorating soap dishes.
The toilet, however, was dark. She felt the walls for a switch but found none. Confused, she stepped out.
When she opened her main door, she nearly screamed.
The maid was still standing there silently—with her head bowed.
"Hey—what are you still doing here?" Abigail asked, concern edging her voice.
"I am not allowed to leave until you go to sleep, milady," the girl said softly.
"What? No, no, I'm fine. Really," Abigail said quickly. "I actually wanted to ask… how do I turn the toilet light on?"
"You just say the words, 'Light on,' milady."
"Oh. Wow." Abigail chuckled softly. "Thank you—really. And you can go back. I don't need anything right now. If I do, I'll call."
The girl bowed and left quietly.
Abigail marched straight back to the toilet.
"Lights on," she said.
The entire room glowed instantly, revealing a stunning gold-trimmed mirror, polished walls, and every detail illuminated perfectly. She smiled in satisfaction, feeling a strange pride in claiming this room, this space, as hers.
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LATER THAT EVENING
Abigail dressed in a stunning soft-blue gown. It hugged her waist perfectly and flowed down to her ankles like liquid water, catching the light with every slight movement. Her hair was down, curled slightly at the ends, soft tendrils framing her face. She looked radiant, soft, elegant… hopeful.
She sat in the grand sitting room, anticipation fluttering in her chest. She had rehearsed her greeting over and over, the words rolling on her tongue with careful precision. She wanted this evening to go perfectly. She wanted him to notice her, to see her… appreciate her.
The door opened.
Her heart jumped violently, her breath caught.
Sullivan walked in. Dark suit, dark aura, expression unreadable. Every step deliberate. Every movement contained a quiet command.
The servant assembly themselves, heads bow, not daring to rise it up.
Abigail stood immediately, her soft gown swishing around her ankles.
"Welcome—"
He didn't even look at her.
Not one glance. Not one pause.
He walked past her like she was invisible… like she was a ghost.
Straight inside. Door shutting behind him.
Her heart dropped violently into her stomach.
The soft-blue fabric of her gown suddenly felt too light… too cold… too foolish. The air around her seemed to thicken with disappointment, tension, and the sting of rejection. She exhaled shakily, fighting the urge to crumble right there on the polished marble floor.
And there she stood, alone in the grand sitting room, sunlight replaced by dim evening lights, the echo of the closing door lingering like a cruel reminder: she was invisible to the one person she wanted to see.
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Author's Note 💕
Hey loves!
I hope you're enjoying Abigail's journey and the luxury of her new world in this chapter — "A Room Made of Dreams." I had so much fun writing this scene, imagining every detail, every breath of fresh air, and all the little moments that make her feel both awed and vulnerable.
I'd love to hear from you! How did this chapter make you feel? Did Abigail's reaction to the room, the balcony, and even Sullivan's coldness resonate with you? Your thoughts mean the world to me.
Also, if you haven't already, don't forget to check out The Alpha's Obsession, one of my other novels, where the drama, romance, and intensity continue in a whole new way.
Thank you so much for reading, for loving my stories, and for supporting me — you make all of this possible.
Stay amazing,
—Your Bestie Author 💕