Chapter Four

The words on the note burned into Sarah's mind like a brand.

You're not alone.

She stared at the paper, her heart racing as she turned it over, searching for more. There was nothing else—no signature, no clue as to who might have written it. But the message was clear, and it sent a shiver of both fear and hope down her spine.

Someone within this fortress of shadows was reaching out to her.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped her out of her thoughts. Instinctively, Sarah crumpled the note in her hand and shoved it into the pocket of her dress just as the door creaked open. Her breath caught in her throat, her body tensing with the fear that it might be Adrian again, coming to check if she'd learned her lesson.

But instead, it was Sofia who entered, her expression a mask of practiced indifference. She carried a tray with a simple meal, her movements graceful and silent as she placed it on the small table by the window.

"Your dinner, Miss Sarah," Sofia said, her voice devoid of emotion, yet her eyes flicked briefly to Sarah's, as if searching for something.

Sarah forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Thank you, Sofia."

The maid nodded and turned to leave, her posture stiff and obedient. But just as she reached the door, Sarah's voice broke the silence. "Sofia, wait."

Sofia hesitated, her hand on the door handle, but she did not turn around. Sarah could see the tension in the set of her shoulders, the slight tremor in her fingers. There was something more to Sofia, something beneath the surface of her composed exterior.

"What is it, Miss Sarah?" Sofia's voice was soft, careful.

Sarah's thoughts raced, searching for the right words. Should she trust this woman? Could she? There was no way of knowing if Sofia was a friend or just another pawn in Adrian's game. But the note in her pocket seemed to pulse with a quiet urgency, reminding her that she had to take risks if she wanted to survive.

"Are you… are you happy here?" Sarah asked, her voice wavering slightly. It was a simple question, yet it carried the weight of a thousand unspoken fears.

Sofia turned then, her eyes meeting Sarah's with a flicker of something—something that vanished almost as soon as it appeared. Her expression remained neutral, her lips pressed into a thin line. "It is not my place to be happy or unhappy, Miss Sarah. I am here to serve."

The answer, though expected, stung nonetheless. But before Sarah could say anything more, Sofia dipped her head in a brief nod and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Alone again, Sarah moved to the table, eyeing the meal Sofia had brought. It was simple fare—bread, cheese, and a bowl of stew—but her appetite had vanished. The note was all she could think about, its cryptic message a lifeline in the dark sea of her captivity.

But who had sent it? And why?

Her mind whirled with possibilities. Was it one of Adrian's men? Someone who pitied her? Or was it a trap, a test to see how she would react, to gauge her desperation? Every option seemed equally likely, and equally dangerous.

She glanced at the door, half-expecting it to open again, for Adrian to stride in and demand to know what she had discovered. But the silence pressed down on her, thick and heavy, leaving her to wrestle with her thoughts.

As she sat there, staring at the untouched meal, another realization crept into her mind. If someone was trying to help her, that meant they knew she needed help. They knew she was vulnerable, alone, and that she hadn't yet given up. But what could they offer her? A way out? Information? Or was it just false hope, something to keep her from succumbing to despair?

The questions gnawed at her, each one a thread unraveling her resolve. She knew she couldn't afford to be careless, not now, not when she was still trying to understand the rules of this twisted game.

With a heavy sigh, Sarah rose from the chair and moved to the window, pushing aside the thick drapes. Outside, the night was dark, the moon obscured by heavy clouds that hung low in the sky. The mansion grounds stretched out before her, vast and shadowed, with only a few dim lights marking the path through the gardens.

Her eyes traced the lines of the wrought-iron fence that encircled the estate, the barrier that kept her in and the rest of the world out. It was a prison disguised as luxury, and every breath she took inside it felt like borrowed time.

Suddenly, there was a movement in the garden below. Sarah's breath hitched as she squinted into the darkness. A figure was slipping through the shadows, moving quickly and silently towards the back of the estate.

She leaned closer, her pulse racing as she tried to make out who it was. But the figure was too far away, too obscured by the night. Still, the sight of someone sneaking through the grounds set her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As Sarah watched, the figure paused at the edge of the garden, looking back toward the mansion. For a fleeting moment, she could have sworn they were looking directly at her.