Chapter 19 : A Prisoner in a Gilded Cage

The sound of running water filled the bathroom, yet Celeste didn't move.

She stood before the mirror, staring at her own reflection with vacant eyes.

The black silk nightgown Alistair had given her remained neatly folded on the sink, untouched.

Celeste knew what was happening.

This wasn't just confinement. It was domination—a warning that she no longer had any freedom.

She closed her eyes, trying to suppress the fear that clawed at the edges of her mind.

There was no escape.

No one could save her.

No one could help her.

Celeste lifted her gaze, meeting her own eyes in the mirror. She had to find a way to survive.

But her thoughts were cut short when a soft knock echoed through the door.

"Celeste."

Alistair.

His voice was deep and cold, but there was a trace of impatience beneath it.

Celeste swallowed hard. She didn't respond.

Another knock, softer this time.

"You've been in there for too long."

Her heart pounded as she stared at the door. Should she answer? Should she say something?

Before she could decide, the doorknob began to turn.

Celeste's breath hitched. In a panic, she grabbed the silk nightgown, pressing it against her chest as if it could shield her from whatever was about to happen.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing Alistair standing there with a piercing gaze.

His eyes immediately roamed over her, noting her still-dry hair and unchanged clothes.

He exhaled deeply before stepping inside without asking for permission.

"I gave you time to adjust," he murmured, though there was an unmistakable edge to his tone. "But you've wasted it."

Celeste took a step back, clutching the nightgown tighter.

Alistair studied her expression for a moment before reaching out, fingers gently prying the silk fabric from her grip.

"There's no need to resist," he whispered. "I've been patient enough."

Celeste froze.

His expression was unreadable as his dark eyes bore into hers.

"I don't like repeating myself, Celeste."

His gaze darkened.

"But if you need my help changing…" He arched an eyebrow. "I wouldn't mind."

Celeste held her breath, her body going rigid.

Alistair's eyes locked onto hers, trapping her in fear she couldn't control.

And as he stepped closer, Celeste knew—

Celeste remained frozen in place, her heart pounding as she stared at Alistair. The black silk nightgown she had been clutching was now in his hands.

She knew what would happen if she refused.

Alistair never accepted rejection.

His sharp gaze studied her, like a predator savoring the fear of its prey. With deliberate calm, he placed the nightgown on the table near the sink, then reached out, brushing his fingers under Celeste's chin, tilting it up just enough for their eyes to meet.

"You know, Celeste…" His voice was low and deep, laced with quiet menace. "I've been patient enough. But it seems you still don't understand your place."

His fingers shifted slightly, making Celeste swallow nervously.

Alistair leaned down, whispering against her ear.

"You can't keep hiding from me."

Celeste bit her lip, trying to suppress the fear coursing through her veins. She wanted to run. She wanted to scream. But what was the point?

She was trapped here.

She had no power against Alistair.

Seeing that she still wouldn't move, Alistair exhaled, as if his patience had truly worn thin. He took a step back, then leaned against the sink, arms crossed over his chest.

"Alright," he said in a casual tone. "If you don't want to do it yourself, I can wait outside. But don't make me wait too long."

His stare was piercing.

Celeste nodded slowly, though her body remained tense.

A faint smirk curved Alistair's lips before he turned and walked out of the bathroom with measured steps.

But just before leaving, he stopped at the doorway and murmured without looking back:

"I expect to see you wearing that when I return."

Then, the door closed, leaving Celeste alone in suffocating silence.

She stood there, struggling to steady her breathing, but her body still trembled.

What was she supposed to do now?

Running wasn't an option.

Fighting was impossible.

Celeste looked at her reflection in the mirror. The light in her eyes was gone, replaced by nothing but fear. She barely recognized herself anymore.

With trembling hands, she picked up the silk nightgown, feeling the fabric between her fingers.

And with a quiet, shuddering breath—

She finally surrendered.