Chapter Two

The walls were too quiet.

Aveline sat on the edge of the massive bed, her hands in her lap, fingers curling and uncurling in slow, nervous rhythm. The silk sheets beneath her felt too clean. The air smelled like lavender and something colder, something artificial like perfection that had been forced into place.

The room was warm, but she was still shivering.

She hadn't taken off her coat yet.

The door was closed now, but she could still hear his last words ringing in her ears.

"Don't try to escape. You won't like what happens if you do"

She knew she shouldn't have followed this man but she didn't have any choice.

She will have to pay for her stupidity but she won't let him win.

---

She got up and walked to the window, pressing her fingers lightly to the glass. It overlooked the front of the estate long hedges, an iron gate far too tall to climb, and black pavement stretching into darkness. There was no way out. Not without been seen. Not without been caught.

She hadn't even asked how far they'd driven. She'd stopped keeping track of things like time and distance a while ago.

She leaned her forehead against the cold pane. "What have I gotten myself into …"

---

It was sometime after midnight when the door creaked open.

She turned quickly, half-expecting him to stride in again with that unreadable expression and ice behind his eyes.

But it wasn't him.

It was a woman. Late forties, maybe. sharp eyes, professional posture. She wore black slacks, a pressed blouse, and the kind of smile that never reached her eyes.

"You'll be bathed and given fresh clothes in the morning," the woman said. "Master Cross has requested you be brought to the study at eight."

Aveline blinked. Master Cross.

So that was what they called him here.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

The woman looked her over once, then turned to go.

"Wait," Aveline said quickly, her voice too small.

The woman paused.

Aveline swallowed. "What… does he want from me?"

The woman didn't blink. "I don't know"

Then she left.

---

Aveline couldn't sleep.

Not because the bed wasn't soft, it was too soft. Not because she was scared, she was, but fear had long ago become something she wore like a second skin.

No. What kept her awake was him.

Dominic Cross.

She knew that name.

She had pushed it out of her mind at first, blinded by shock and exhaustion. But now, in the quiet, it all started to resurface like a bruise rising under the skin.

She'd heard it whispered when she was younger in her father's office, behind closed doors, in courtrooms and headlines.

Cross vs Torres.

Her father had killed a man,in a fight between two enemies. It was self-defense, the lawyers claimed. A dispute turned violent. But the Cross family hadn't accepted that. Especially not the son.

Dominic Cross had been barely eighteen at the time, but he'd stood in that courtroom with a stare that could split concrete. Her father had told her to ignore him. That the boy would go back to his empire and leave them alone.

But he hadn't.

Instead, everything had started falling apart.

Their family company was sued, slandered, drained of investors. Banks pulled out. Properties were seized. Her father broke under the pressure. Her mother, too.

They never said his name. They never admitted it.

But Aveline had always known who did it.

Dominic Cross destroyed them.

And now he had her.

---

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she woke to a soft knock at the door and a girl no older than twenty standing with a folded set of clothes and a tray of food.

"You're expected in the study," the girl said, without eye contact.

The food was warm. Eggs, toast, fruit, tea. She ate it in silence, aware of how clean everything was her clothes, her plate, even the silver fork.

This place was the opposite of every alley, clinic, and broken shelter she'd hidden in the past six months.

And that scared her.

---

She was led through a long corridor lined with bookshelves and gold-framed portraits, most of them dark and imposing. Oil paintings of serious men and distant women, their expressions cold and empty.

The study door was slightly ajar.

She paused in front of it, heart pounding. Then she pushed it open.

He was there.

Sitting behind a massive desk made of black wood and glass, reading something she couldn't see. He didn't look up.

"You're late," Dominic said simply.

"I didn't have a clock," she replied, before she could think better of it.

His eyes lifted. Sharp. Assessing. Dangerous.

But instead of snapping at her, he leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together.

"Sit."

She did, across from him. The chair was leather. Cold.

"Do you know why you're here?" he asked.Aveline stared at him. "You said I could have food. Safety."

"I said I could give it to you," he corrected. "That's not the same as saying I will."

Her nails dug into her palms. "What do you want?"

He didn't answer right away. He studied her like something under glass.

"I've known who you were for a long time, Aveline Torres."

The sound of her last name in his mouth made her stomach twist.

"You knew my father," she said quietly.

He nodded once. "I watched him ruin my family. And I watched your family fall apart because of what he did. Because of who he was."

"You destroyed us," she whispered.

"No," he said, calmly. "He did that. I just made sure he didn't recover."

She looked away, swallowing hard.

"And now?" she asked. "You want to finish what you started?, you want to break me too."

He stood slowly, walked around the desk, and stopped in front of her. She didn't flinch, but she had to look up to meet his gaze.

"I could have let you die on the street," he said. "But I didn't."

"Because you're merciful?" she spat.

"No." He crouched slightly, lowering to her eye level. "Because I'm patient."

Her heart skipped.

"I want obedience,and control over you," he said, voice steady. "I don't want your apologies. I don't want your gratitude. I want your presence. Your submission. The knowledge that the daughter of the man who destroyed mine now answers to me."

Her chest rose and fell faster.

"You want me to be your… slave?" she said, hating how shaky her voice sounded.

His smile didn't reach his eyes.

"No. Slaves are chained by law. I want you to stay… because you know there's nowhere else to go."

She stood then, hands clenched.

"You want me to depend on you ."

"Good," he said. "you are pretty smart"

---

He gave her a list of rules.

She wasn't to leave the mansion.

She would stay in her wing unless summoned.

She would eat what was given.

She would speak only when spoken to unless it was important.

She would not lie.

And most importantly:

She belonged to him.

Not legally. Not physically. But in every way that counted in this house.

---

That night, Aveline stood in front of her window again, hands trembling.

She could still run.

She could try, at least.

But something inside her whispered that Dominic would expect that. Maybe even want it.

No… she'd wait.

She'd play the game.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd find a way to escape on her terms.

---

But deep down, she feared it was already too late.

Because monsters didn't just trap you with chains.

They made you forget you were ever free.