Selene did not sleep.
The revelation clung to her thoughts, heavy and suffocating, replaying itself no matter how she tried to escape it. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the screens in the underground command center. Cities reduced to glowing grids. Names turning red, then disappearing. Lives compressed into data points and probabilities.
Adrien Moreau did not rule a company.
He ruled outcomes.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the steady hum of the mansion's systems. Air circulation. Security protocols. Surveillance. Even the silence here was engineered. Nothing breathed unless it was allowed to.
Marriage.
The word tasted bitter.
She turned onto her side, clutching the sheets as if grounding herself could keep her from unraveling. She had known something was wrong from the beginning. She had felt it in the way people looked at her now, in the subtle shifts of deference and fear. Being Adrien's wife had changed her status overnight.
It had turned her into a symbol.
And symbols were never safe.
By morning, Selene had made a decision.
Not to escape. Not yet.
First, she would test the cage.
She rose early, dressing herself instead of waiting for Camille. She chose neutral colors, soft enough not to provoke attention but structured enough to feel like armor. When Camille arrived, Selene was already standing by the window, posture straight, expression calm.
"You're awake early," Camille noted.
"So are the guards," Selene replied. "They never sleep."
Camille's lips curved faintly. "Neither does the house."
Selene turned. "I want to walk."
Camille hesitated. "Where?"
"Anywhere that isn't this room."
The pause was subtle, but it was there. Camille weighed the request, measuring it against rules Selene could not see.
"I'll inform him," Camille said.
"No," Selene replied quietly. "You won't."
Camille looked at her then, truly looked, as if reassessing something she had previously categorized and dismissed.
"You're learning," Camille said.
"I have to."
Camille inclined her head. "I'll assign guards."
"I don't want guards hovering over me."
"You'll have them," Camille said gently. "Or you won't walk."
Selene exhaled, accepting the compromise. "Fine."
The corridors felt different when she walked them by choice rather than instruction. Wider. Longer. Less forgiving. The guards followed at a respectful distance, close enough to intervene, far enough to pretend she had autonomy.
She tested small boundaries.
She slowed unexpectedly, watching to see if they matched her pace. They did. She changed direction without warning. They adjusted instantly. She stopped abruptly. One guard stepped forward before catching himself, hand twitching near his weapon.
Predictable.
She smiled faintly to herself.
Outside, the grounds stretched wide and immaculate. Manicured gardens hid cameras in plain sight. Paths curved deliberately, controlling sightlines and movement. Even nature had been bent to Adrien's will.
She walked until her lungs burned, until her thoughts settled into something sharp and focused.
Control could be studied.
Control could be challenged.
Later that afternoon, Selene found Adrien in the study, reviewing documents. He looked up as she entered, eyes assessing her with quiet precision.
"You didn't eat breakfast," he said.
"You noticed," she replied.
"I notice everything."
"Then notice this," she said, stepping closer. "I want access."
Adrien raised a brow. "To what?"
"To information. To the house systems. To schedules. You expect obedience without understanding. That won't work."
His gaze sharpened. "It's worked for years."
"I'm not your men," Selene said. "I'm not your soldiers. And I'm not a hostage you can keep ignorant."
Adrien leaned back slightly, studying her as if she were a puzzle rearranging itself.
"You want knowledge," he said. "Or leverage?"
"Both," she answered honestly.
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Careful."
"Why?" she asked. "Afraid I'll learn how to leave?"
Silence stretched.
Adrien stood.
He was close enough now that she could feel the heat of him, the quiet gravity he carried. He did not touch her. He did not need to.
"Run," he said softly, almost conversationally. "And I will find you."
Her spine stiffened. "That's a threat."
"That's a promise."
She met his gaze, refusing to look away. "You can't cage someone forever."
Adrien's eyes darkened. "You'd be surprised what people endure when the alternative is worse."
"And what's worse?" she asked.
"Losing everyone you love," he said calmly.
The words landed with brutal precision.
Selene stepped back, chest tight. "You use my family like a leash."
"I keep them breathing," he corrected. "Do not confuse restraint with cruelty."
"You call this restraint?" she demanded.
"Yes," he said. "If I were cruel, you wouldn't be standing here."
The truth of it chilled her.
That evening, Selene tried something else.
She sought the staff.
Not directly. Not openly. She listened. She observed. She noted who avoided her and who watched her with curiosity. She learned which servants spoke freely and which were silent by habit rather than fear.
She asked small questions.
Neutral ones.
How long they had worked here. What the house was like before her arrival. Whether anyone had ever left.
The answers were vague. Careful.
Too careful.
That night, as she lay in bed, Selene tested the door.
Locked.
She tested the window.
Sealed.
She pressed her ear to the wall, listening for patterns.
Guards rotated every four hours.
Cameras shifted angles on a fixed cycle.
There were blind spots.
Not many.
But enough.
Her pulse quickened.
This was not escape.
This was preparation.
Across the mansion, Adrien watched from his office, eyes fixed on the screens.
He had seen the change in her hours ago.
The way she walked differently. The way her gaze lingered on details most people ignored. Selene was no longer absorbing passively.
She was mapping.
Lucien stood beside him, arms crossed. "She's testing boundaries."
"I know."
"You should stop her."
Adrien shook his head. "No."
Lucien frowned. "That's risky."
"So is underestimating her."
"She'll try to run."
Adrien's jaw tightened. "Yes."
"And?"
"And she will fail."
Lucien hesitated. "And after?"
Adrien's gaze never left the screen. "After, she'll understand."
Back in her room, Selene lay awake, heart pounding. She had crossed an invisible line today.
Adrien knew. He always knew.
But something in his reaction unsettled her. He had not punished her but He had warned her. And warnings, she was learning, were invitations to choose. Selene closed her eyes, resolve hardening in her chest.
If this was a cage, she would learn its limits. And if escape was impossible… Then she would learn how to survive it on her own terms.
Selene did not run that night. She prepared. Preparation was quieter than fear, more dangerous than hope. She began with small disobediences from doors left open that were usually closed, lights extinguished where they were meant to remain on. She altered her routines just enough to introduce inconsistency into a system that thrived on pattern recognition. No alarms sounded, and that unsettled her more than resistance ever could.
She learned quickly that the house watched differently at night. The cameras no longer moved on fixed cycles; they adapted. Guards changed positions without visible signals, appearing where she did not expect them and vanishing where she assumed they would remain. Adrien had designed this place to punish assumptions. Selene tested it anyway, timing the gap between patrols near the southern stairwell for four minutes, twenty seconds, then four minutes, eighteen, then four minutes, twelve. The system was learning her back. She stopped testing for two days after that and listened instead.
At night, the mansion spoke in whispers of movement and controlled breath. She heard the faint shift of boots beyond walls that should have been solid, felt pressure changes when unseen doors opened and closed. The building was not static. It responded. On the third night, she made her mistake. Small. Almost insignificant. She removed a bracelet Camille had given her and left it on the bedside table, telling herself it was symbolic; a shedding, a signal to herself that she was ready. She did not realize it was tracked.
The moment she crossed into the west wing, the temperature dropped. not physically, but strategically. She felt it in the stillness, the way silence gathered instead of receding. Her footsteps sounded too loud, then not at all. She did not panic. Panic was expected. She moved faster, down a service corridor she had memorized by reflection and echo, past a door she had never opened, toward a stairwell she believed unsupervised. The lights dimmed. Not off. Dimmed. A choice. She took the stairs two at a time, breath sharp but controlled. At the bottom, the exit was closer than she expected. That should have warned her. The door was unlocked. That should have terrified her.
She reached for the handle and froze.
Adrien's voice came from behind her. "Already?"
She turned slowly. He stood in the shadow of the corridor, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, not angry or rushed, as if he had been waiting exactly there for some time. "You let me get this far," she said. "Yes." "Why?" "Because you needed to believe you could." Her jaw tightened. "You tracked me." "I anticipated you." "You said I could run." "I said I would find you."
He stepped closer, his presence folding the space inward. "You changed the house," Selene said. "I felt it." Adrien nodded. "You forced a recalibration." "You manipulated me." "I taught you," he corrected. "And you learned quickly." "That was the point, wasn't it?" she demanded. "You wanted me to try." His gaze softened in a way that frightened her far more than cruelty ever could. "Yes." She laughed once, bitter. "You're insane." "No," he said quietly. "I'm thorough."