GLASS HEARTS AND GHOSTS

The walls of Ravenna's new room whispered silence.

Everything was too clean. Too rich. Too close to him.

She sat on the edge of the ivory bed, her fingers curling over the delicate stitching in the duvet. Adrien hadn't spoken since dragging her back from the garden in the storm. No threats. No slaps. Just control, thick and quiet and terrifying.

Now he had placed her a wall away from him. Like a warning.

Or a promise.

She glanced at the connecting door.

'That should be locked' she thought to her self

Her heart beat like a rabbit in her chest.

---

Dinner was served in her room that night. Silver trays, linen napkins, wine that smelled like seduction. She didn't touch it.

Instead, she lay on the window seat in her robe, watching the garden sway beneath the moonlight, every droplet from the storm now calm and still.

Ravenna's fingers touched the glass.

So clean. So sharp.

Like her heart. Fragile.

She closed her eyes.

And ghosts swirled behind her eyelids.

---

Her father's voice, weeks ago, full of fury.

"You're a disgrace. Get out of my house. You're no daughter of mine."

The rain that night, pounding on her jacket as she ran.

Alone. Confused. Unwanted.

Then the blood.

The body in the alley.

Adrien's gun.

His eyes.

And now—his house.

His rules.

His temper.

His silence.

---

Her eyes fluttered open to darkness.

Her body ached from how tightly she'd curled into herself. Had she slept?

The clock read 2:41 AM.

But something felt wrong.

The air shifted.

Then—a sound.

A breath.

She sat up sharply.

Adrien stood in the doorway. The door she thought was locked. His shirt half-unbuttoned, hair slightly tousled, shadows stretching across his face.

He said nothing.

Just staring at her from the distance.

She didnt know how It happened, but under the watchful gaze of Adrien, she fell asleep.

She rose at dawn, her muscles stiff from sleeping upright. The air in the mansion was quiet, deceptively gentle. She padded toward the bathroom, trying to wash off the stiffness, the ache in her bones, the ghost of his presence.

But nothing helped.

Even as she dressed in a plain black dress left on her bed—her "uniform"—she couldn't erase the sensation of being watched. Owned. She tugged the sleeves over her wrists and pulled her hair back, as if that might protect her.

By the time she stepped out of her new room, she realized something even more chilling.

There were no more locks on her door.

None.

---

In the hallway, Elena —the housekeeper—glanced at her with barely masked contempt. Her lips curled into a sneer before she turned away, muttering something under her breath.

Ravenna didn't respond.

What was the point?

As she passed the long mirror in the hallway, she paused. Her reflection looked back—paler than she remembered, thinner. But her eyes had changed the most.

No longer innocent. Just… dimmed. Bruised, but not broken.

The soft sound of voices filtered from the far end of the corridor.

She turned sharply.

Selene.

Her heels clicked like threats against the marble floor.

Ravenna stepped back into the shadows just as Selene passed, wearing a silken emerald robe, her hair pinned like royalty. The woman's expression was tight with irritation—her lips pressed in a perfect red line, jaw clenched.

She hadn't seen Ravenna.

But she was heading toward Adrien's wing.

Ravenna pressed her back to the wall and closed her eyes.

She listened, his voice, then her voice.

But was he?

---

Later that evening, Adrien didn't come for dinner. Again.

Elena dropped the tray on the small table in Ravenna's room without speaking. There was no wine this time—just cold soup, bread, and something that smelled vaguely like chicken. Ravenna barely touched it.

Instead, she walked to the grand piano in the lounge. The only thing in the mansion that didn't feel tainted.

She let her fingers rest on the keys, cold ivory and silence waiting.

Then she played—softly at first, then louder. A haunting waltz she barely remembered. Something her mother used to play.

The notes filled the house like a prayer she didn't believe in anymore.

But as she played, something loosened in her chest.

She didn't belong here.

She didn't deserve any of this.

And she wasn't going to let Adrien Moreau turn her into a shadow of herself.

---

At that exact moment, on the other side of the wall, Adrien stood in his private study.

Listening.

Not moving.

Not breathing.

Just listening.

To her music.

To her ghost.

To his ghost.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in years…

He felt something break inside his chest.

Something soft.

Something dangerous.