Chapter 6： The One Mistake

"What's your home address?""1314 Amity Crossroads.""Can you describe the intruders?""Around thirty, tall, maybe six-foot-five... glasses...""Did they hurt you physically?""Could you walk us through exactly what happened this morning?""Are you certain there was a person inside that bag, or just guessing?""Did you hear anything suspicious during the night?"Click.

Sebastian pressed the stop button on the audio player.The recording ended with a soft, mechanical snap. He sat down across from her, expression unreadable, voice almost tender.

"Now... is there anything you'd like to tell me, Liliane?"

She couldn't speak.Her body felt frozen, like she was submerged in a block of ice.

That call had lasted over thirty minutes.Her first time ever calling the police.And she had told them everything.Every detail. Every face. Every fear.She'd ended the call with a whisper: "Please help me."

But what happened after?

She didn't know. She didn't dare check.All afternoon, her nerves were fraying.She didn't go home. Didn't talk to anyone.She sat in the library pretending to study, but the pages blurred into white noise.

Her stomach ached with dread.

Maybe they were already arrested.Maybe there were flashing lights outside the house.Maybe—someone knew she was the one who called.

By evening, she made the slow walk home, praying for signs—any signs—that the nightmare was over.

But the house was the same.Perfect. Polished. Silent.

The guards nodded politely. The maids smiled.Dinner was being set.

She went upstairs, changed clothes, showered, came back down—and sat at the piano.Just like every other evening.

Sebastian was already seated at the table.The same calm voice. The same slight smile.Not a hint of anything wrong.

Liliane's fingers trembled.She fumbled through scales, missed entire chords.She rushed her piece and excused herself.

Said she was tired.Poured herself a cup of milk.Went to her room. Locked the door.

She thought she'd survived the day.

But then—the door creaked open.

Sebastian stepped in, fresh from the shower, hair damp, shirt loose.In his hand wasn't milk.

It was a portable audio player.

The call.

Her call.

He played the whole thing.

And now, it was over.

"I'm waiting for your explanation," he said softly.The gentleness in his voice felt colder than any threat.

Liliane couldn't breathe.

How did they get the recording?

If even the police were compromised—If they could just hand things over to him—Then what chance did she have?

"You had a lot to say to the police earlier today," Sebastian continued."So why so quiet now?"

She couldn't answer.Terror pinned her in place.

Sebastian stepped forward, gently tilting her chin with his fingers.His touch was deceptively warm.

"I'm not a difficult man," he said. "In fact, I think I'm quite reasonable. Wouldn't you agree?"

She nodded. Tiny. Weak.

"My men haven't harmed you. They've been respectful. So tell me… why would you do something like this?"

His tone was eerily calm.Like he was asking why someone spilled tea—not reported a murder.

"You weren't supposed to see that room," he said. "You walked in too early. That was all."

She knew he was twisting it.But part of her wished she'd never opened that door.

Sebastian sighed. "The man you saw... the one you thought we hurt? He wasn't some innocent stranger. He stabbed me, Liliane. A known fugitive. A killer. You remember that knife wound, don't you?"

She nodded. Automatically.

"I let it go. But my men? They couldn't. Loyalty means something to them."He smiled slightly."Do you understand now?"

She nodded again.

"The man who died wasn't yours to save. He wasn't your tragedy. And calling the police? It put you in danger, not him."

The guilt hit like cold rain.

"So..." He crouched in front of her, eye-level."What you did today—it wasn't smart. But it wasn't unforgivable either."

Liliane's hands clenched. Her voice barely came out.

"I… I'm sorry..."

Sebastian studied her for a long moment.Then he brushed her hair back.

"Good. That's a start. But words aren't enough."

He rose to his full height.

"Since we're going to be spending more time together, I think it's time to establish some ground rules."

Her stomach twisted.

"From tonight onward, at 9 p.m., you'll report to me in the study. Every night. You'll tell me what you did, what you thought, what crossed your mind. Even if it was ugly. Even if it was about hating me."

His voice stayed soft.But the weight of it was unbearable.

"No lies. No delays. No excuses."

He paused.

"If you hesitate... or hold back... that's another punishment. Twice as hard. Understand?"

Liliane's voice caught in her throat.But she nodded. Slowly.

Sebastian leaned closer. His breath was warm against her forehead.

"Good girl."

He kissed her.Not on the lips. Not on the cheek.Just the forehead—light, fleeting.

But it felt like a brand.

"And one more thing..."He looked down at her—still. Quiet. Shaking.

"Let's talk about consequences."

She flinched.

"You made a choice today. And choices have weight."He tilted her chin again.

"So tell me, Liliane... What kind of punishment would help you remember this lesson?"

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.Her mind flashed to that room—the tray. The dark stains.

Sebastian didn't move.

"Don't worry," he said gently."I already have something in mind."

The lights dimmed.

"And Liliane—next time you even think about calling for help... I want you to remember this feeling. Right now."

He paused at the door.

"Don't forget. Nine o'clock. Every night."

Then he left.Quiet. Final.

The door clicked shut behind him.

And she sat in the dark.Alone.

Her body trembling.

Her heart hammering.

No sirens. No rescue.

Just one thought:

She belonged to him now.