Selene learned that the mansion did not truly sleep.
At night, it only grew quieter in a way that made every sound sharper. The soft hum of electricity beneath the walls. The distant echo of footsteps that were never meant to be heard. The subtle shift of guards changing posts with mechanical precision. Even the silence felt organized, curated, controlled.
She woke before dawn, not from a nightmare, but from the lingering sense that something had shifted while she slept. The room was dim, the heavy curtains still drawn, the air cool against her skin. She lay still for several minutes, listening. Nothing was out of place, and yet everything felt wrong.
The feeling followed her when she rose, when she dressed, when she stepped into the corridor and found Camille already waiting.
Camille always seemed to appear without warning. Not abrupt, just… present. As though she had been standing there long before Selene noticed her.
"Good morning," Camille said evenly. "Mr. Moreau has a full schedule today."
Selene nodded, though she had not asked. "Do I need to be somewhere?"
"No," Camille replied. "You are free until dinner."
Free. The word sat strangely between them. They walked side by side through the mansion, their footsteps soft against the polished floors. Morning light filtered in through tall windows, catching on marble and dark wood, illuminating artwork Selene had never truly looked at before. Everything in the house was expensive, yes, but more than that, it was intentional. Nothing here existed for comfort alone. Every object felt like a statement.
They passed a junction Selene had not seen before. One corridor branched off sharply to the left, narrower than the others, dimmer, guarded by two men instead of one.
Selene slowed.
"What's down there?" she asked.
Camille did not stop walking. "Private offices."
"For guests?" Selene pressed.
"For business," Camille replied, a fraction too quickly.
Selene's instincts stirred. She had learned, in the weeks since arriving here, to listen not just to what was said, but to what was avoided.
Later, when Camille left her alone in the sitting room, Selene made a decision she knew she should not.
Curiosity, she had learned, was dangerous in Adrien Moreau's world. But ignorance felt worse.
She waited. Counted time by the movement of light across the floor. When she was certain the corridor would be quieter, she slipped out and retraced her steps.
The mansion seemed to watch her as she moved. Cameras were discreet, nearly invisible, but she knew they were there. Still, no one stopped her. No voice came over a speaker. No guard intercepted her path.
The corridor was cooler than the rest of the house. The walls darker. The air heavier, as though it carried the residue of conversations that were never meant to leave the space.
She heard voices before she reached the door.
Men's voices. Low, controlled, threaded with tension.
She stopped short, heart thudding.
"…shipment didn't clear customs," one voice said. "Port authority flagged it before it even docked."
"That's the second loss this month," another replied. "They're getting bold."
Selene leaned closer, her pulse loud in her ears.
Adrien's voice cut through the others, calm and unmistakable.
"They aren't bold," he said. "They're calculating."
Silence followed his words, immediate and absolute. Even without seeing him, Selene could imagine the effect he had on a room. Adrien did not raise his voice. He never needed to.
"They know exactly how far they can push," Adrien continued. "And they're about to learn they misjudged."
A man cleared his throat. "The southern syndicate is involved. If this escalates, it won't stay quiet."
"It never does," Adrien replied. "But it always ends."
Selene's breath caught.
This was not corporate language. This was not the vocabulary of boardrooms or hostile takeovers.
This was war.
"And the woman?" someone asked.
The word struck her like a blade.
Adrien did not respond immediately. The pause stretched long enough that Selene's stomach tightened.
"She is irrelevant to this discussion," he finally said.
"She isn't," the man countered carefully. "She's leverage."
Selene's vision blurred for a second.
Adrien's tone hardened, losing its conversational edge. "Anyone who sees her as leverage is making their last mistake."
A nervous chuckle followed. "You're letting emotion interfere."
Adrien's reply was sharp and final. "I am eliminating variables."
Selene backed away, every nerve screaming.
She did not run. She forced herself to move calmly, retracing her steps, willing her breathing to steady. By the time she reached her room, her hands were shaking.
Billionaire.
That was the word the world used for Adrien Moreau. It was safe. Clean. Palatable.
It was also a lie.
He was not merely wealthy. He was structured around power, enforced through fear, sustained by violence carefully hidden behind tailored suits and controlled silence.
And she was bound to him.
The weight of it pressed down on her chest as the day passed. She barely tasted her lunch. The mansion felt different now, its luxury stripped bare to reveal steel beneath. Guards were no longer reassuring. They were reminders.
That evening, Adrien came to her room.
He did not knock.
She was standing by the window when he entered, city lights flickering far below. She felt him before she saw him, the subtle shift in the air, the way space seemed to bend around his presence.
"You followed me today," he said.
It was not anger in his voice. It was certainty.
Selene did not turn immediately. "I got lost."
Adrien moved closer. "No," he said quietly. "You listened."
She faced him then, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "You lied to me."
"I withheld information," he corrected.
"You let me believe you were just powerful," she said. "Not this."
His expression did not change. "Would it have changed your decision?"
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
No. She would have signed the contract regardless. Her family's lives would have demanded it. Her brother, her mother, where would they have been. Dead? Of course she would have signed it.
Adrien watched the realization settle on her face. "Exactly."
"You're dangerous," Selene said, her voice barely steady.
"Yes."
"And people are coming for you."
"Yes."
"And for me."
Adrien stepped closer, stopping just short of touching her. "They will try."
Her heart raced. "You married me to protect yourself."
His eyes darkened, something fierce and unreadable flickering beneath his control. "I married you to protect you."
She searched his face for deception and found none. That terrified her more than any lie.
"You are in my world now," Adrien continued. "Which means you will hear things. You will see things. You will understand things you cannot unlearn."
"And if I don't want to?" she asked.
He studied her carefully. "Then you should not have survived."
The honesty of it stole her breath.
"What happens next?" she whispered.
Adrien straightened. "Now you learn how deep this goes."
He turned to leave, then paused.
"Selene," he said without looking back. "You are not a weakness."
Her pulse stuttered.
"You are a warning."
The door closed behind him.
Selene remained where she was, staring at the city beyond the glass. The lights no longer felt distant. They felt fragile.
She had not married a man. She had married a system of power.
And there was no turning back.
The realization came slowly, settling into Selene's bones like cold. She lingered by the window long after Adrien left, watching the city pulse below. From above, it looked beautiful, orderly. Lights blinked in patterns, traffic flowed like blood. It was easy to forget the violence required to keep it that way.
Adrien did not rule through chaos. He ruled through control, and that frightened her more than brutality ever could.
She crossed the room, touching the bed, the chair, the door that locked from the outside. Safety and captivity shared the same shape here.
She remembered the men she had overheard, their calm talk of loss and retaliation. Adrien had not threatened them. He had stated facts.
Touch her and die.
The words lingered.
She heard a knock that snapped her back into reality. It was Camille
"You may come in" she said
When Camille entered, her measured tone carried quiet warning. "You'll learn how this house works," she said.
"And if I don't?"
Camille did not respond. She walked towards the closet and carefully arranged the clothes that she brought in. Selene eyes moved, according to the way Camille walked, watching her while patiently waiting for an answer. Camille finished arranging the clothes, picked up the basket she was holding and let out a deep sigh of relief as she was done with the days job.
"And if I don't?" Selene repeated
"Then it will learn you." She said.
She moved towards the window checking with her her pointing finger to see if it would collect dusts. She rubbed it with her thumb, moved to the door, opened it and went outside.
Later, alone in the dark, Selene understood the truth.
Adrien Moreau had not pulled her into his world.
He had placed her at its center.