Chapter Nine: The Illusion of Freedom

Anastasia had never been in a place so grand, so breathtaking—and yet, so lifeless.

Kosta Manor was immaculate, built with wealth and power in mind. The halls stretched on forever, with sleek black marble floors that barely reflected light, walls lined with expensive art that had probably been chosen by an interior designer, and chandeliers that dripped with crystal.

But there was no warmth.

No sign that anyone actually lived here.

It felt sterile, more like a museum than a home.

Everything about it screamed untouchable.

Much like its owner.

She wandered through the vast corridors that morning, her fingers grazing the cool, smooth surfaces, her heels muffled against the endless marble.

She had expected to feel something in this place—comfort, safety, maybe even belonging.

But there was nothing.

No familiar scents, no laughter echoing down the halls, no misplaced books or forgotten cups of coffee left on a table.

It was like walking through a world designed only to impress, never to be lived in.

She wasn't meant to belong here.

And maybe that was exactly how Leonidas wanted it.

She had agreed to this marriage.

She had promised herself she would respect the arrangement, honor the deal between their families.

Leonidas had done nothing cruel, nothing unfair.

In return, she would do her part.

But she hadn't realized how much that would cost her.

Not until she started noticing the details.

The doors that didn't open.

The hallways that led nowhere.

The subtle red lights of security cameras, tucked into corners so neatly that most people wouldn't have even noticed.

Except she wasn't most people.

She saw them.

And the longer she walked through the house, the more she realized something unsettling—

She wasn't just a guest in this house.

She was being monitored.

At first, she ignored it.

Pretended she didn't see the tiny blinking lights, the way the cameras seemed to follow her movements, the guards stationed near doors that led to the outside world.

But the realization sat in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn't scratch.

So she decided to test it.

Not in a reckless way—just enough to see how deep the chains wrapped around her wrists.

She made her way to the far end of the estate, where the tall glass doors led out to an open-air terrace. Beyond it, the gardens stretched far, leading to a pathway that disappeared into the trees.

For the first time in days, she could breathe.

The sun was warm, the scent of citrus and freshly trimmed grass filling the air.

She took a step forward, toward the garden.

Then another.

And then—

Movement.

A man in a suit, positioned near the corner of the house, turned slightly, lifting his hand to the earpiece in his ear.

She froze.

Her fingers curled into fists as he murmured something under his breath.

She didn't know what he said.

She didn't need to.

Because within minutes, she heard the low hum of an approaching car.

A sleek black vehicle pulled up to the front of the house, tires crunching softly against the driveway.

The door opened.

And Leonidas stepped out.

She went completely still.

He hadn't been home.

But now, he was.

Because she had moved.

Her stomach twisted.

Had someone alerted him?

Had he been watching the security feed?

Or had he simply known?

She didn't get the chance to decide.

Because in the next moment, he was walking toward her.

Leonidas moved like a man who had all the time in the world, but none of it to waste.

Effortless. Unhurried. Completely unreadable.

She should have gone back inside.

Should have pretended she hadn't been testing him.

But she didn't.

She held her ground.

Even when his eyes met hers, dark and sharp.

Even when he stopped just a few feet away, close enough that she could feel the quiet weight of his presence.

His lips curled slightly, a shadow of amusement flickering across his face.

"Taking in the view?"

A simple question.

Too simple.

She hesitated for half a second before forcing herself to meet his gaze. "It's beautiful here."

He didn't blink.

Didn't look away.

And yet, something changed in the air between them.

Slowly, he reached out.

And before she could react, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

The touch was brief. Barely there.

But it was deliberate.

A claim.

His thumb brushed the edge of her jaw—light, effortless, as if he had done it a hundred times before.

And yet, her breath caught like it was the first.

She should have stepped back.

Should have said something sharp, something to remind him that she wasn't some object to be handled like this.

But she didn't.

And that, more than anything, terrified her.

Leonidas must have noticed, because his smirk deepened.

He leaned in, just slightly, lowering his voice so that only she could hear.

"Next time, Anastasia," he murmured, "try something a little less predictable."

Then, just like that, he stepped back.

And walked away.

Leaving her standing there, breathless, skin burning, heart pounding in a way it had no right to.

She had tested his control.

But somehow, she was the one who had lost.

She barely remembered walking back inside.

Barely remembered the feel of the cool air pressing against her heated skin, the way the house swallowed her whole again.

Her thoughts were racing.

He knew.

He had always known.

She was never free—not really.

Leonidas had surrounded her with invisible chains, walls she couldn't even see.