Adeline stopped counting the days.Not because she had accepted her captivity, but because time behaved differently inside the villa. It stretched when she was afraid and collapsed when she slept. Morning and night blended into one long, colorless existence measured only by routines she did not choose.She woke when the lights came on.She ate when food appeared.She moved when she was told.At first, every command had felt like an assault. Now, they felt like gravity's —inevitable, unquestioned.Ethanol oversaw most of it.He never raised his voice. Never touched her unless necessary. He simply appeared when rules were about to be broken and disappeared once order was restored. His presence had become a signal: pay attention or suffer later."Stand straight," he told her one afternoon as she waited in the corridor outside Donovan's office.She corrected her posture immediately."Good," he said, as though she were a child being trained. "You're learning."Those words unsettled her more than an insult would have.---Donovan began appearing more often.Not suddenly. Not dramatically.He would pass through rooms she was cleaning. Sit at the far end of the dining table while she ate. Stand near the window as she stared outside, saying nothing.He never ordered her to speak.That was the worst part.Silence around him felt deliberate, like a test she didn't know the rules of.One evening, as she folded fresh clothes on the bed, she felt it—that unmistakable sensation of being watched.She turned.Donovan was there leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, eyes fixed on her."How long have you been there?" she asked quietly."Long enough," he replied.Her hands stilled.He stepped inside, unhurried, and gestured toward the clothes. "You were shaking before. You aren't now."She frowned slightly. "I suppose I'm getting used to things.""Used to me," he corrected.The truth of it settled heavily between them.She should have hated him. Should have recoiled. Instead, she felt something else—something she didn't yet have a name for.Attention.It frightened her."You're quieter," Donovan continued. "You listen."She met his gaze despite herself. "I don't have a choice."A faint smile touched his lips."Everyone has choices," he said. "You just learned which ones hurt less."He reached out—not to touch her, but to adjust a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. His fingers never made contact, but the closeness sent a shiver through her.Her breath hitched.He noticed.That was the moment she understood something dangerous: Donovan was not blind to her reactions.He was collecting them.---That night, she realized she was no longer afraid of his footsteps.She still feared what he could do. What he was.But his presence no longer made hershrink.When he entered the room later, she did not flinch. She sat up instead."That's new," he observed.She hesitated. "I didn't know if I was allowed to lie down."A low chuckle escaped him—soft, almost surprised."You ask permission now," he said.She lowered her gaze, ashamed.Donovan stepped closer. "Look at me."She did."You confuse obedience with weakness," he said quietly. "They're not the same."He straightened. "Rest. You've done enough today."And then he left.Adeline lay back slowly, her heart racing.That was the most kindness she had been shown since arriving.And that realization terrified her.---Days later, she caught herself waiting.For his voice.For his presence.For the strange calm that followed him like a shadow.She hated herself for it.But conditioning didn't arrive like a storm.It arrived like habit.And somewhere between fear and familiarity, Adeline began to lose track of where survival ended...and something far more dangerous began.....
